By now, a pretty decent pile of money won from the two girls was already stacked in front of Luke.
This time, of course, he hadn't cheated—because he realized that against these two idiots, there was simply no need.
He only had to put in the slightest effort, and that was already their limit.
After that, an interested Fiora and Sona also joined in Beat the House.
The five of them rotated back and forth between two games—Gomoku and Beat the House.
By the time night fell…
Luke had already won nearly thirty gold coins.
The four of them kept winning and losing among themselves, but in the end, the money all flowed into his pocket.
It felt amazing.
"I'm done. You're all way too bad."
Luke stood up to cook, and before leaving, he didn't forget to roast them one more time.
Ignoring the four irritated stares burning into his back, he walked into the kitchen.
There were quite a few people for dinner tonight, so prep took a bit longer.
While he cooked, Lux and the others caught the aroma drifting out through the house, and their stomachs started protesting early.
When a table full of dishes finally appeared in the dining room, every second of waiting suddenly felt worth it.
Dinner was lavish. Luke made six hot dishes, two cold dishes, and two soups.
For Sona, tasting Luke's cooking for the first time, the smell alone had already made her hungry.
And the moment the food hit her tongue, her eyes lit up again—completely conquered in an instant.
She lifted her gaze and sneaked a look at Luke, her eyes sparkling. Luke had surprised her so many times today.
And she wanted to understand him even more.
After the meal, the six of them fully demonstrated what it meant to leave nothing behind—there wasn't even a sip of soup left.
Sona didn't usually eat much, yet even she ate about twice her normal amount tonight—maybe even more.
Once she was full, she leaned back in her chair, patted her slightly rounded belly, and let out a long sigh.
She'd already decided she was going to slim down… so what was she supposed to do now?
Humans, sometimes, were easily satisfied.
When their appetite was satisfied, their stomachs were full, and their whole body finally loosened up—over the next stretch of time, a feeling called happiness would quietly rise in their chest.
Like right now.
The three of them who were full sprawled out in their rocking chairs, appreciating the night view.
The sky had gone dark, stars blinking to life one by one, and a bright moon hung along the horizon, painting the moment with a kind of quiet poetry.
None of them spoke. No one wanted to break the stillness.
It felt like time itself had become beautiful.
Because the Buvelle family had a strict curfew, Sona and Kahina left after dinner, saying their goodbyes.
Inside the carriage on the way home, Kahina looked at her sister's profile and couldn't help asking, "Sister… what kind of person do you think His Highness is?"
Sona thought for a moment, then smiled and signed a few gestures:
"He's a really interesting person. Being around him makes you feel safe."
Kahina often mentioned Luke at home, and every time her sister spoke his name, Sona could feel joy and happiness in her heart.
That was when Sona's curiosity about Luke truly started to grow.
After spending a full day with him today, she arrived at that conclusion: His Highness really was an interesting man.
"I think so too!"
Hearing her sister's opinion, Kahina smiled happily.
10:00 p.m.
Racing the clock before curfew, Fiora returned home.
She assumed her parents were probably already asleep.
But the moment she stepped inside, she saw the living room lights still on—and then she saw her mother's severe expression.
"Why have you been coming home so late every day lately?"
Elma looked at Fiora with displeasure and pointed at the clock. "Do you even see what time it is?"
Fiora glanced at it and answered, "Curfew is at ten-thirty."
"That's for other people. For you, how could it be the same? You're a girl. Coming home at ten at night—what kind of behavior is that?"
Elma raised her voice to show how angry she was, then demanded, "Explain it clearly. What have you been doing lately?"
Fiora opened her mouth, but nothing came out. In the end, she lowered her head and stayed silent.
She could have said she'd only been spending the whole day somewhere that was, at most, a ten-minute walk from home.
But it wouldn't matter.
She knew that no matter what she said, in Elma's eyes it would still be "rebellion."
Seeing her silent, Elma grew even more furious. "Have you been sneaking off to practice swordplay again? Answer me, Fiora!"
"You always treat what I say like it's nothing. The last gathering I told you to attend—you stayed less than ten minutes before leaving!"
"Why do you always go against me? Why do you always make things harder for me?"
Elma's anger spilled out in harsh scolding.
Fiora never said a word.
"Enough."
From the sofa, a voice interrupted Elma.
Sébastien stood, his whole body radiating the authority of the head of the household, and said calmly, "It's late. Get some rest."
But Elma, already seeing red, didn't care about anyone. She turned on him, eyes wide. "Don't always jump in at times like this to play peacemaker. Is she not your daughter too? You sit there forever and that's all you've got to say? Useless—can't squeeze out a single meaningful word!"
Sébastien was immediately shut down, face awkward. He coughed once and sat back down.
But the fire had already shifted. Elma kept pointing at him. "And you're still sitting! Every day you plant yourself there—either drinking tea or reading. Have you ever managed anything for this family? Haven't I been the one carrying everything?"
Sébastien didn't dare breathe too loudly. He lowered his head, all trace of "head of the household" gone.
Elma looked back—and realized Fiora had already slipped upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother chasing. She simply kept venting at her husband.
"I can see it now—neither you nor your precious daughter wants me to live a good life!"
"Look at you now, trying to act imposing. Rest? Rest my ass. I'm telling you—don't even think about resting tonight. You like sitting so much? Then sit right there. I want to see exactly what kind of man you are."
Back in her room, Fiora shut the door, inhaled deeply, then let the breath out.
A heavy, suffocating powerlessness welled up inside her.
Somewhere along the way, in Elma's eyes, she'd become a disobedient, immature child.
Maybe it started when she picked up a sword and shredded the new dress and cloth doll they'd gifted her.
From that moment on, she was no longer allowed to touch a sword hilt.
She didn't even have the right to hold a sword openly.
"Fiora, you're a girl. Learning the sword isn't something you should be doing."
"The family doesn't need a girl to use a sword."
"Don't get hurt. Girls should stay far away."
"Why did you sneak off to practice again? I told you—don't touch a sword ever again!"
For years, those words had echoed in her ears again and again.
To the entire family, she was only a fragile girl—and among most nobles, a girl was born already carrying the "mission" she was meant to fulfill.
Even she was no exception.
Elma… that pitiful woman.
Years ago, when her husband's right leg was crippled on the battlefield, he sank into despair. From that day on, she had taken the weight of the whole family onto her shoulders.
She clawed and dragged a family sliding toward decline back up with sheer capability, and no one knew how hard it was for her.
So Fiora never blamed her for the decisions she made.
All these years, Fiora worked hard to complete every goal her mother set for her—yet every time she finished one, another goal appeared.
Without realizing it, she was nearly crushed, barely able to breathe.
The reason she desperately wanted to become stronger was because she wanted to break free of the shackles—to change the fate the family had written for her.
She just didn't know when that day would come… or whether she would ever live to see it.
The next day, June 22. The weather was clear.
According to the Farmers' Almanac-style superstition people loved to quote, it was a great day for ceremonies—and a terrible day for funerals.
By late morning, Luke finally slept until he woke naturally. The courtyard was unusually quiet today.
He yawned, got up, washed up, and casually did his daily check-in.
The reward was just two rare exotic fruits.
Then he walked into the courtyard, and for a moment, he didn't quite know how to adjust to the quiet.
The little blonde had been whining through the communicator last night about how she had after-school tutoring again today, so she couldn't come over until it let out.
Kahina didn't come by every day to begin with—she needed time for training, and she also had to go over to the Church of the Illuminators. Yesterday had been a rare day off.
But he hadn't seen the duelist today either, and he didn't know why.
"Since nobody's coming today, I'll go out for a walk."
After pacing a few steps in the yard, bored, Luke turned and ordered, "Yurna, get the carriage ready."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Yurna left to carry it out. Before long, the carriage was prepared.
Luke climbed in, and the destination was naturally the prison he hadn't visited in a while.
He wanted to see whether the chains guy was dead yet.
Some time later, the carriage stopped at the Capital Prison.
After coming twice already, Luke had become a familiar face to the guards.
As usual, he went straight through without obstruction, all the way down to the second level of the dungeon.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
Dierde greeted Luke with a broad smile. "It's only been a few days, and Your Highness looks even more handsome."
Luke usually couldn't stand this kind of flattery. He casually tossed Dierde a few gold coins as "punishment" for not controlling his mouth, then ignored him and walked straight toward the far end.
Dierde caught the coins, and his grin bloomed like a flower. He followed behind Luke, fawning.
"Open the door."
At the order, the guard opened the cell door.
As always, Dierde held the torch behind him.
Luke walked in with a calm expression.
As the firelight spread across the cage, he quickly saw Sylas sitting in the corner—looking much the same as before, except his eyes were darker.
In his hand was a shriveled piece of bread, hard enough to look like it could crack teeth. He broke it apart bit by bit, feeding it into his mouth, chewing with a blank face.
When he saw that the one visiting again was still Luke, Sylas didn't move, continuing the same repetitive motion.
Luke stood outside the cell, looking down at him. "Sylas. Looks like, between life and death, you chose life."
Sylas made no extra movements, as if he hadn't heard. He continued chewing the hard bread.
In truth, even on the fourth day after Luke left last time, Sylas still hadn't chosen to eat.
Back then, he truly intended to die.
But later, when he genuinely felt death approaching… he got scared.
In that moment on the brink, the belief of revenge suddenly ignited inside him. He understood—he still couldn't die.
Or rather, he couldn't die like this. The meaning of his life could not be silently snuffed out in this dark dungeon.
Maybe he would never see the light again in this lifetime—but even if there was only a one-in-a-thousand, one-in-ten-thousand chance, he couldn't let it go.
He wanted revenge. He wanted to fight back against this unjust world.
Even if Luke mocked him for clinging to life, even if Luke called him a coward—so long as he could live, that was enough.
Luke let out a slow sigh. "Sylas… I liked you better when you were still defiant."
Sylas lifted his eyes and let his gaze sweep across Luke's face, still saying nothing.
At first, he'd been determined to die, so he'd tried to provoke this prince—because with a single word from Luke, he would be dragged out and executed.
But now he didn't want to die anymore. He'd realized that once you died, you truly had nothing. Only by living did any possibility remain.
He didn't understand why this prince had come to see him three times—first cutting off his food, then restoring it.
Just those two visits had forced him to see himself clearly.
So what was this third visit for?
"How boring."
Luke lost interest. He turned and ordered, "Starting today, make him copy books."
Dierde blinked. "Copy books?"
"That's right. Find someone specifically to check his work. One hour, fifteen hundred words. One word short, one meal less."
Luke gave the order casually, then added, "One wrong word also counts as a lost meal."
Only then did Dierde understand. He nodded in realization. "Understood, Your Highness!"
Inside the cage, Sylas watched Luke's back. As the door closed, Luke gradually disappeared from view.
In that moment, Sylas thought: if one day he ever got out… he would find this man and beat him senseless first.
Luke left the prison quickly.
Not long after he was gone, Eldred arrived at the dungeon.
After hearing Dierde's report, Eldred frowned. "The prince came again?"
"Yes, sir," Dierde said with a bow.
Eldred asked next, "Why does he keep coming to see Number Zero?"
"His Highness seems to enjoy tormenting prisoners," Dierde said, recalling the earlier visits. "At first he was just curious. Later, after Number Zero mocked him, he's been doing everything he can to torment him."
"A powerful man's nasty little hobby."
Eldred's expression remained flat, unconcerned. "Let him. Just don't let Number Zero die."
"Yes, sir."
Dierde bowed again.
On the carriage ride home, Luke's thoughts still lingered in the dungeon.
As for what to do with Sylas, Luke had prepared two approaches.
The second time he'd gone, Luke had given Sylas two choices:
Wait for death in numbness… or cling to life.
If Sylas chose death, then death was death. It simply meant the world would lose that person entirely.
If he chose life, then Luke would keep him for now—until he became useful later.
Whichever Sylas chose, to Luke, it didn't matter.
When the carriage stopped, Luke snapped his attention back, stepped down, and returned to the courtyard—still just as quiet as before he'd left.
He used to enjoy sitting alone in silence, but now, feeling it again, he found it oddly hard to adapt.
He'd assumed lunch today would be just him and his maid.
But as another carriage rolled up and stopped, a lush, curvy figure stepped down—her watery blue hair striking in the daylight.
"Sona. Good afternoon."
Luke was lounging in the courtyard. When he saw her, he smiled and greeted her.
Sona responded with a warm smile in her beautiful eyes.
She couldn't speak, but her eyes seemed to talk—bright and expressive.
After a bit of conversation, Luke learned the reason.
Sona had originally planned to come over in the morning, but then she thought it was too much trouble to keep traveling back and forth.
So she simply found a main residence near his home and bought it.
That way, she could come whenever she wanted.
Luke was momentarily speechless.
Maybe this was what a rich woman looked like.
As the eldest daughter of House Buvelle—and already a renowned musician—Sona truly had the money for it.
And judging by her attitude, she clearly planned to come mooch meals often.
Luke didn't mind. He was the type who liked lively company anyway. One more person was just an extra set of chop—an extra fork and knife.
Around noon, when lunch was almost ready…
Luke finally saw Fiora.
He didn't ask where she'd gone in the morning. He simply took out her place setting too.
He didn't even greet her. He didn't say a single word.
Yet somehow, just that was enough to make Fiora's heart slowly settle, a warmth rising for no clear reason.
Sitting at the table, she silently watched the busy figure in the kitchen, a faint smile forming at the corner of her lips.
A thought welled up inside her—maybe it was like the books said.
In everyone's heart, there was a harbor that belonged only to them.
And once you arrived at that harbor, all the bad feelings would vanish without a trace.
Maybe… this place was her harbor.
"Time to eat!"
With those words, the three of them started lunch.
Sona lifted her gaze and glanced at Fiora across from her, finally letting out a quiet breath of relief.
When she'd first seen Fiora earlier, Sona had immediately felt the gloom inside her—confusion, suppression. Just listening to those emotions, even Sona herself felt like she could barely breathe.
This strong-willed woman's shadow had likely been there for a very long time.
Sona didn't know where it came from, and for the moment she didn't know how to comfort her.
But soon, she realized—
Once that shadow encountered Luke, it mysteriously dispersed on its own.
Sona blinked, then looked at Luke eating with obvious enjoyment, and thought that might be the most powerful thing about His Highness.
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