The breakfast table was small—barely enough room for four plates without elbows knocking glasses—but Sarah had clearly prepared for an army despite it. She'd over-prepared, the way she always did, expecting leftovers to stretch the week. Today it worked out perfectly.
A generous pile of scrambled eggs still steamed in the center, flanked by thick-cut bacon crisped exactly the way market vendors charged extra for, and golden toast stacked like little soldiers. A porcelain teapot sat sweating gently beside chipped but clean cups. The table was a proud display of Middle-class competence.
Since Mya was employed by the baron, and was the middle-child's personal maid, she possessed a more-than-decent salary. Most individuals would kill to live in such a modest apartment in Acerbus—not to mention eating this type of meal.
Mya slid into the chair directly beside Stiletto without hesitation.
Her heavy breast brushed his elbow as she settled, the soft weight pressing through thin gray fabric for one deliberate heartbeat before she straightened. The contact was so blatant it might as well have come with a neon sign.
James's fork paused halfway to his mouth.
He blinked once, slowly, the way men do when they're deciding whether they just saw what they think they saw.
"Next to the boy…? You're not sitting beside me?" he asked, voice flat.
Mya's smile never wavered. "I have to accommodate my Young Master, dear. It would be rude otherwise."
A long second passed as James's jaw worked like he was chewing the words before swallowing them. Eventually he grunted—more animal reflex than agreement—and returned to stabbing his eggs.
Stiletto hid his smirk behind a sip of tea.
Sarah, meanwhile, kept flicking her bright silver eyes between her mother and the tall purple-haired boy seated at her family table. Finally she leaned forward on her elbows, grin wide and shameless.
"So you must be him," she said. "The one my mother talks about constantly~"
Almost immediately, James's ear visibly twitched. He didn't look up, but the fork in his hand tightened.
Mya's thigh pressed firmly against Stiletto's under the table—warm, possessive, a silent claim that said mine louder than any words. She didn't even glance at her husband as her daughter went on.
"I'm Sarah," the girl continued, extending her hand across the plates. "Nice to meet you."
Stiletto met her grip. Her palm was surprisingly callused for an academy student—probably from whatever half-hearted sparring they taught at whatever backwater spirit academy she attended.
He quickly appraised her:
——-
[Watchful Eye]
(Sarah Caster)
Stage: 2
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Height: 5'8
Favorability: 90/100
(Page 2) Proceed to view skills?
——-
'Yes'
——-
[Skills]
{Wind Manipulation (Active Ability)-}
Rank: Common
Description: Allows the user to generate and control gusts of wind. Can push objects, deflect small projectiles, enhance jumps, or create brief bursts for acceleration. Range and force scale with Spirit stat and skill proficiency. After using for ten seconds, a minute cooldown follows.
(Page 3) Proceed to view stats?
——-
'One skill… the fuck? What the hell is she supposed do with that—give me a blowjob with wind around my dick?'
…
'Maybe her stats are high for a Stage 2 and she compensates that way…'
——-
[Stats]
{Main Stats-}
Strength: 3
Agility: 7
Vitality: 13
Endurance: 11
Intelligence: 25
Luck: 1
{Added Stats-}
Spirit: 33
——-
He almost laughed out loud.
'Weak…'
Twenty-one years old and three years at a so-called spirit academy, and her total stat pool didn't even break triple digits. Weaker than him—and he was barely a month into actually trying. If this was the average output of whatever third-rate institution had scouted her, then Valora Institute was going to eat him alive unless he got his numbers up. Fast.
And yet, something else caught his attention in the moment…
'Ninety favorability?'
He had no idea whether the number came from Mya's nonstop glowing praise, from the simple fact that his face and body were improving at a steady pace due to his increasing Charm, or whether Sarah Caster was simply the kind of girl who caught fire easily. "An easy slut" as some might put it.
In any case, it didn't matter.
The corner of his mouth curled anyway.
Sarah caught the smirk and tilted her head, teasing. "You didn't tell me he was hot, Mom~"
Instantly, Mya's cheeks flared scarlet. "Sarah! You do not address the Young Master like that!"
Stiletto waved a lazy hand, laughing low. "It's fine. Really. I've heard worse."
Then, with the exchange of a few more meaningless words, the meal began. No prayer was needed.
In Acerbus, people had long since stopped bothering with gods and goddesses. No one bowed their heads to invisible benefactors here—that type of thing was more present in other cities and towns, including some parts of Valora. The only thing worth thanking in this city was the person who actually cooked the food.
Stiletto inhaled deeply. "Smells incredible, Sarah. You've outdone yourself."
It was polite bullshit and they both knew it. Mya's cooking would have turned this exact spread into something that made grown men whimper. Still, Sarah beamed like he'd handed her a medal.
Picking up his fork, Stiletto began to eat.
The only sounds for several minutes were silverware scraping porcelain, the soft clink of teacups, and the occasional crunch of bacon. Sunlight slanted through the half-closed blinds and painted gold bars across the tablecloth.
Eventually Stiletto set his fork down.
"Thank you again for having me," he said, voice warm and perfectly noble. "I've always wondered what kind of home my maid returns to every night. I'm glad to see it's… comfortable."
James gave a dull nod. "It's fine."
Sarah, however, smiled brightly enough for both of them.
Another stretch of silence…
James's gaze drifted—again—to the white trench coat with silver embroidery hanging on the rack by the door. Then back to Mya's bare shoulders. The gray dress she wore left them exposed, the neckline lower than anything she'd worn in years.
"Your shoulders are bare, hun," he said quietly. "Haven't seen you wear that in… forever."
Mya jolted like she'd been pinched. Then she smiled—bright, compensatory—and glanced at Stiletto for half a second before answering.
"Is that so? Well… I decided I wanted to impress my lover today~"
James nodded once. "Well. I'm impressed."
Stiletto nearly choked on his tea.
Inside his skull a small, vicious voice screamed: 'How are you this fucking dense?!'
His cock twitched under the table anyway. The sheer absurdity of it—the husband sitting three feet away nodding like a trained dog while his wife's pussy was still sore from being stretched around Stiletto's dick every night for weeks—was electric. He'd never experienced anything like this…
It was fun. Thrilling—even more so than any dangerous stunt he had performed back on Earth.
'I should probably refrain from getting addicted to this…'
Still, his slight grin held.
Suddenly, James pushed his chair back—completely oblivious to it all. "Nature calls," he muttered, and disappeared down the short hallway.
The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Sarah leaned forward, cupped her hands under her own decently large chest, and gave two exaggerated bounces with a wicked smirk.
"My dad probably got all flustered seeing Mom's…"
Another bounce.
"SARAH!" Mya hissed, mortified.
Stiletto barked a genuine laugh and leaned back in his chair. "I've lived with your mother beside me my entire life, Sarah. And the older I get, the more I realize just how lucky I am~"
He punctuated it with a shameless wink.
Mya slapped his shoulder—hard—but her face was burning and her lips kept twitching upward.
Sarah's eyes went comically wide for a heartbeat. Then she grinned wider. "Understandable. I mean—unlike me, Mom probably makes men do full 180s on the street before they realize they're staring."
"Don't sell yourself short," Stiletto said smoothly, letting his gaze linger just long enough to make the point. "You've got your own charm."
Without hesitation, Sarah immediately spun toward her mother, voice bright and playful. "Mom. I'd like to marry this guy. I mean it."
"NO!" Mya snapped without missing a beat.
A long stretch of silence followed… and then:
"Pftt—"
Laughter and giggles began to fill the kitchen like the sunlight. Then not long after, James returned just as the giggles were dying down.
"What's so funny?" he asked, sliding back into his seat.
Before Sarah could open her mouth, Mya cut in smoothly, her voice high-pitched: "It seems Sarah wants to marry the Young Master!"
James snorted—a dry, stale sound. "As if that would ever happen." A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Though… I wouldn't mind."
'Of course you wouldn't, you parasitic fuck.'
The longer Stiletto spent around this man, the more clearly he saw what a leeching, disrespectful opportunist he truly was. In just this single meeting, the man had already mentioned his expensive coat, casually addressed him—a member of the nobility—as "the boy," and was now actively trying to exploit his family's wealth through his daughter.
'Sleazebag.'
Stiletto's smile turned razor-sharp. "In all honesty, James…" He paid no mind to the way the older man stiffened at the casual address. "… I just might~ If there's one thing I've learned about the Caster family as a whole—" He slid his hand under the table and squeezed Mya's, firm and unmistakably possessive, then released it. "—it's that they're very accommodating… and devastatingly easy on the eyes~"
James elicited something like a scoff and then gave the fakest smile imaginable as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.
More silence followed as the sunlight crept higher and plates slowly emptied.
After swallowing some toast, Stiletto leaned forward slightly, his charming smile back in place. "So, Sarah… Mya tells me you're attending a spirit academy right now?"
Mya shifted in her seat. She knew exactly where this was going.
Sarah immediately lit up like a bonfire. "Yeah! Three years now. I got scouted right after my eighteenth birthday. It's been amazing—well, mostly. The instructors are strict, but—"
Three years.
Three entire fucking years and she still can't break 100 total stats.
What the hell have they been teaching her? Finger-painting with Spirit?
Despite his thoughts, Stiletto kept the smile nailed to his face. "That's impressive. Valora Institute is on another level entirely, but still—three years of dedicated training is no small thing."
Sarah's eyes sparkled. "Wait—you're going to Valora?!"
Even James's fork froze mid-air.
Everyone knew what Valora meant. Power. Prestige. The place where future generals, mages, and heroes were forged. And even if that wasn't a graduate's path, they were pretty much guaranteed success in life, no matter what.
And then, Mya cleared her throat.
'Gods… I'm really about to do this…'
Her heavy breasts shifted with the motion, drawing every eye in the room for half a second before she forced them back to her husband's face.
"That's actually…" she said, voice steady despite the faint tremor beneath it, "…what we came to discuss."
The words hung in the suddenly too-quiet kitchen like smoke.
James stared at her.
Sarah stared at her.
And under the table, Mya's hand found Stiletto's again—fingers threading tight, trembling just enough to remind him how much courage this moment was costing her.
He squeezed back.
Once.
Hard.
Then let go.
He was here for support, but ultimately…
The rest was up to her.