"When I look back on my life, I will not regret wasted years, nor feel ashamed of having achieved nothing. For my life and all my energy have been devoted to the most magnificent cause in this world—fighting for justice!"
In the pristine white hospital room, Lucien Valois sat propped up in bed, speaking passionately to the reporter, Charlotte.
Charlotte was completely swept up in his fervor. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she rapidly scribbled down every word.
After finishing her notes, she looked up and asked, "Captain Lin, who do you believe is behind this assassination attempt?"
Lucien Valois's expression turned solemn.
"Before more evidence is uncovered, I will not make reckless judgments. However, I wish to state my position clearly—no matter if I am suspended, persecuted, or even assassinated, I will never stop pursuing justice."
Though he did not name anyone, anyone with the slightest knowledge of the situation could guess whom he was implying.
Charlotte asked a few more questions.
Lucien Valois answered each one with careful precision, further shaping the image of himself as a fearless warrior standing firm against oppressive power.
Just as the interview ended, the door to the hospital room opened softly.
Emilie entered, carrying an exquisite food container. Her eyes were filled with concern.
"Lucien Valois, are you feeling better?"
He smiled gently. "Much better. I should be able to leave the hospital in a few days."
Only then did Emilie truly relax.
She opened the container. Instantly, a rich, savory aroma filled the entire room.
"I made pigeon soup. It's very nourishing."
Her soft voice carried a hint of girlish shyness.
"Thank you."
Lucien Valois accepted it and began drinking with large spoonfuls.
Emilie sat quietly at his side, watching him drink. A faint, satisfied smile gradually appeared on her elegant face.
He finished the entire portion in one go—and couldn't help but let out a small burp.
The soup was delicious. Just… a little too much.
After packing away the container, Emilie hesitated before speaking.
"Lucien Valois… I was the one who cleaned up the scene yesterday."
He froze for a moment, then fell silent.
After a pause, he said slowly, "Emilie, I don't want to lie to you. I did deliberately give the assassin a chance to fire. I—"
She cut him off.
"No need to explain. I believe you."
Lucien Valois lifted his eyes to meet hers, a complicated emotion stirring in his heart.
At the same time, Emilie was gazing at him as well.
Their eyes met in midair, and the atmosphere in the room gradually grew intimate.
Then—
The door opened again.
Chiori walked in, carrying a Japanese-style lunchbox.
The moment she stepped inside, her gaze fell on Emilie's empty container.
"Miss Emilie, you're here quite early," Chiori said calmly.
Emilie smiled gently. "I went home early last night, so naturally I could come earlier today."
"You're busy with work. There's no need to come out of your way to take care of Lucien Valois. I'll look after him."
"I'm self-employed. My schedule is flexible. On the other hand, Shopkeeper Chiori, don't you have orders waiting?"
"My orders can wait. But I'm not sure the same can be said for your perfume commissions."
"…"
Back and forth they went—polite on the surface, yet sparks practically flying between their words.
Lucien Valois cautiously suggested, "I think… both of you could take care of me."
The instant he finished speaking, both women turned to glare at him.
"Shut up!"
He immediately shrank back and obediently closed his mouth.
The verbal duel ceased.
Emilie smiled lightly. "Since Lucien Valois finished all my pigeon soup, I suppose it must have tasted good."
With that, she waved and departed.
Chiori expressionlessly opened her own lunchbox. Another wave of fragrant aroma filled the room.
"I learned to cook a Liyue dish. Chicken stewed with mushrooms."
She handed it to him.
Lucien Valois looked down at the brimming bowl of soup and felt his stomach and bladder protest simultaneously.
Still, he gritted his teeth, lifted the container, and drank it all.
After finishing, he forced his facial muscles into perfect composure, raised a thumbs-up, and beamed.
"Chiori, this chicken soup is incredible! Absolutely amazing! It tastes like home!"
"Then tell me," Chiori asked coolly, "which tastes better—my chicken soup or Emilie's pigeon soup?"
Without hesitation, Lucien Valois replied, "Yours, of course. Hic."
A faint, satisfied smile curved Chiori's lips.
"At least you still have some conscience."
She began packing up her container.
Just then, the door opened once more.
Furina walked in lightly, carrying yet another beautifully wrapped food container.
"Lucien Valois! I specially went to Debord Hotel to pack duck liver soup for you. I heard it's excellent for recovery. Hurry and try it!"
The moment Lucien Valois heard it wasn't personally cooked by Furina, he silently sighed in relief.
"Lady Furina… I just finished Shopkeeper Chiori's chicken soup. I really can't fit anything else right now."
At his words, the distinctive white ahoge atop Furina's head seemed to droop in disappointment.
"Oh… then I'll just take it back."
Seeing her crestfallen expression, Lucien Valois's heart softened.
"I… can still drink a little."
Furina's face instantly bloomed into a radiant smile.
Chiori shot him a sharp glare.
This man was truly greedy beyond measure.
"I'm leaving."
She gathered her things and walked out without looking back, leaving the space to him and Furina.
The hospital room, moments ago a battlefield, finally quieted—though the tension in the air lingered like the faint aroma of soup.