At noon, the capital's weather was unusually bright—clear skies, a gentle breeze, the kind of day that put everyone in a better mood.
Luke sat in a chair out in the courtyard, sipping iced tea and sounding almost poetic.
"Man… today's breeze won't shut up."
A soft wind drifted through the air, teasing his hair so it swayed back and forth.
Hearing that, Fiora lowered the newspaper in her hands and smiled.
"In a bit, the only thing getting loud won't be the wind."
After reading what was in the paper, she'd already had a feeling.
Sure enough, before long, a carriage pulled up outside the courtyard gate in a hurry.
Then a figure climbed down—moving fast, like he'd been chased the whole way.
Luke glanced toward the entrance and called out cheerfully, "Brother, good afternoon."
"Good my ass!" Jarvan IV strode into the courtyard, looked around, then fixed his eyes on Luke and let out a bitter laugh. "You've ruined me, little brother!"
Luke's smile only deepened. "Sit first. Whatever it is, we can talk it through."
As he spoke, he flicked a look toward Yurna.
Yurna immediately picked up a cup, poured a glass of iced tea, and set it in front of Jarvan IV.
"There's no time to talk it through!"
Jarvan IV let out a heavy sigh. He really was thirsty, though—so he took the cup and drained it in one go. Then he paused.
"Huh. This is good."
The moment it went down, the frantic edge in his chest cooled off. His mind felt clearer, like someone had poured cold water over a fire. And the taste—clean, rich, and smooth—was excellent.
"Right?" Luke said, unhurried. "I'll send you some another day."
By now, the Smoky Earl Grey Tea he'd gotten from the system's check-in rewards was almost gone.
But the tea shrubs growing in the courtyard were coming in fast. In a little while, they'd be ready to pick—so he wasn't worried about running out.
"Ahem. I couldn't possibly take your things," Jarvan IV said at once, putting on a stern face and waving both hands. Then he coughed and added, completely straight-faced, "But we're brothers, so don't make it complicated. A pound or two is fine."
He turned, wandering around the courtyard, eyeing everything with interest.
"Still… your place is nice. Little fan, little shade umbrella… you can soak up the sun when you're bored. Not bad at all."
Jarvan IV kept looking here and there, clearly fascinated by the strange little gadgets scattered around.
Luke took another sip of tea, let it wet his throat, then asked, "So what did you come to see me for?"
Jarvan IV froze. "Right. Why did I come again?"
He stared at Luke for a second—then the memory hit him, and his expression tightened.
"Forget the newspaper—there's no time. I'm laying low for a while. I have to get out of sight."
Like he'd just remembered a sword hanging over his head, he started talking faster and moving toward the gate.
He'd originally come to complain—he'd wanted to grumble about how the paper was setting him up to die. But once he saw Luke, he swallowed it back down. In the end, that was still his little brother.
And right now, this was not the time to chat.
Staying alive came first.
"Little brother, I'm going," Jarvan IV said, already halfway back to the carriage. He turned and waved before climbing in.
Luke raised a hand lazily. "Take care."
Then Jarvan IV vanished the same way he'd arrived—fast enough to look like he was fleeing a nightmare.
And honestly?
He had good instincts.
Because not long after he left, a rider came tearing down the street on a horse at full speed.
"Whoa—!"
With a sharp whinny, the horse skidded to a stop. The man on its back swung down in one smooth motion.
It was Garen.
He stepped into the courtyard with urgency, spotted Luke, opened his mouth… and after a long, painful pause, forced out a single sentence.
"Your Highness… is this what you meant by 'filling out my image'?"
Garen's mind flashed back to yesterday—right before Luke left, he'd said, You won't mind if I flesh out your public image a little, right?
At the time, Garen hadn't thought much of it.
Today, he regretted everything.
If the heavens gave him one chance to redo it, Garen would refuse on the spot—and he'd tell that man exactly what he could do with the idea.
Because before, when people saw him in the street, at worst they talked about his victories. His deeds. The honorable stories.
Now?
Now somehow everyone knew his name—so much that even little kids could say it.
And the worst part was, whenever people recognized him, they wore that strange, knowing smile.
Their eyes practically screamed:
Ohhh, that's Garen Crownguard—the guy who still wet the bed at eight and blamed it on his sister.
Every time Garen caught those looks, he felt like coughing blood.
His reputation—his entire reputation—was getting dragged through the mud!
"Isn't it more… three-dimensional?" Luke said, looking at Garen's dark expression. He walked up, slung an arm around Garen's shoulder, and spoke with the earnest tone of a man delivering a sermon. "I know you think those last parts made you look bad."
"But you're wrong. And I mean spectacularly wrong."
Luke turned, eyes bright with conviction.
"A hero—a truly great person—can't be built on shining stories alone. That's not enough."
Before Garen could respond, Luke answered himself, voice firm.
"Not enough."
"If people only ever hear the glorious parts, then everything they know about you stays distant. One-sided. Untouchable."
"But now? Now you feel real to them. Like you actually live in the same world they do. The 'Dauntless Vanguard rising star' turns out to be a person, not a statue."
"Before, your heroic deeds traveled every street and alley… and people admired you from far away, like you were out of reach."
"But now? Everyone in the capital knows your name. And they realize you're like them—ordinary at your core. Not some unreachable legend."
"You can't just stare at the surface. You have to look past appearances and get to the truth. Try flipping the perspective."
Luke leaned in, voice lowering slightly.
"Do you really think people see you and immediately think, 'Garen Crownguard wet the bed at eight'?"
Garen's eyes went blank, unsure where this was going.
Luke's expression hardened, and his words dropped like a hammer.
"Wrong."
"What they actually see is this: a kid who still wet the bed at eight… who grew up and became a warrior of the Dauntless Vanguard."
"Think about it. How many people can you inspire without even trying?"
It hit Garen like a thunderclap.
A kid who wet the bed at eight… became Dauntless Vanguard.
If you stripped away the humiliation of it being his story and looked at it from the outside…
It really was kind of inspiring.
So this was Your Highness's true intent?
Look past appearances. Get to the truth.
That line alone suddenly felt like it carried weight.
Garen had thought it was just a careless scribble in a paper.
But it had… meaning?
And Luke, seeing Garen frozen in place, kept going.
"Maybe you lost something. But while you lost that, you gained something too—didn't you?"
"Kids will look up to you. People will take you as a role model. They'll want to become the kind of man who protects his home—just like you."
"In a way, you've pushed the nation forward again."
Luke drew himself up like he was standing on a stage.
"Garen… thank you for what you've done for Demacia!"
By the time Luke finished, Garen looked like he'd just been hit with a lecture he wasn't emotionally prepared to receive.
So… wetting the bed at eight was… that important?
It could be a contribution to national morale?
Garen truly had not seen this coming.
Off to the side, Fiora—who'd been playing chess with Sona—lifted her eyes and gave Luke a quick glance, equal parts impressed and exhausted.
This man could talk his way out of anything.
He'd managed to connect bedwetting to patriotism.
Luke looked at Garen. "Anything you want to say?"
Garen: "…"
For a moment, he genuinely didn't know what to say.
He'd come for justice.
He didn't get justice.
And now he somehow needed to pee again.
What was happening to him?
"GAREN!!!"
A furious shout exploded from outside.
A second later, a bright, furious figure stormed into the courtyard and stopped right in front of Garen.
Lux pointed a finger at him, eyes blazing, and snapped, "I knew it—someone who looks that clean-cut is always hiding something!"
Her chest rose and fell with anger. Her pale finger—and her whole body—shook slightly, the kind of trembling that only came from being absolutely, completely furious.
After reading the paper at the Royal Academy, the Crownguard girl's mood had gone somewhere beyond "bad."
No wonder Luke hadn't wanted her to know yesterday. If she'd found out then, she would've charged straight at Garen on the spot.
She didn't remember much from when she was four.
But she had never forgotten that day—getting hit for no reason at all.
She couldn't remember why she'd been punished. She only remembered how hard she cried—how it felt like her whole world shattered.
And now she finally understood why.
Because Garen had blamed her for his bedwetting.
Just thinking about it made Lux feel like she could explode. Right now, she genuinely wanted to bite someone.
Garen stared back at her.
On the outside, he stayed silent, face unreadable.
On the inside, his toes were digging into the floor from sheer embarrassment.
This was supposed to be a secret Lux would never learn in her lifetime.
He'd buried it for years.
And now Jarvan IV had dragged it into the sunlight.
Garen didn't blame Luke for this.
He blamed Jarvan IV—that loudmouthed bastard.
If he could keep his mouth shut, none of this would be happening.
"Do you have any idea how much damage that did to a four-year-old?" Lux demanded, voice shaking. "Garen, I was wrong about you!"
"And I even shared my candy apple with you that day!"
"You owe me my candy apple!"
Lux gritted her teeth, furious and hurt at the same time.
Luke cleared his throat and tried to step in, doing his best to play peacemaker.
"I mean… it's been years. Maybe we—"
He didn't even get to finish.
Lux grabbed his arm and bit down hard.
It was summer. Luke was wearing short sleeves.
That bite landed right on bare skin.
"—HISS!"
Luke felt like his soul spasmed from the pain. He sucked in a sharp breath, then stared at the little blonde in disbelief.
What the hell?!
Garen was the one who framed you!
Why are you biting me?!
Garen looked over with pure sympathy and sighed silently.
Your Highness was still young.
Even Garen knew this much: when a woman is fully enraged, you do not step into the blast radius.
Lux finally released him.
Luke yanked his arm back. It wasn't bleeding, but two crisp rows of teeth marks were stamped into his skin.
He glared. "Are you a dog or something?!"
"Hmph." Lux flicked him a look, and somehow she seemed… better. Even a little pleased.
She'd been furious for ages, and he walked right up to her like an invitation.
If she wasn't going to bite him, who was she supposed to bite?
Luke pointed at her, lips trembling, so angry he couldn't even get words out.
He spun around and marched to the faucet, shoving his bitten arm under cold running water.
As the chill washed over the marks, it finally hurt a little less. He wiped his face like a man who'd been wronged by fate itself.
Never again.
Next time, he was letting them fight it out.
Lux turned back to Garen, still not fully cooled down.
"I don't care. You're giving me an explanation, or we're not done!"
Even if it was years ago, it still felt awful to remember being wrongly blamed and punished.
Garen didn't know what "explanation" could possibly fix this. After a long sigh, he finally said, "You have one wish coin."
Lux's expression softened immediately. "Deal."
The wish machine was a game they'd played as kids.
Whoever won got a wish coin.
Then they could make a wish to the wish machine—and the loser had to carry it out.
Once, Lux had wished that Garen would take a beating for her.
So Garen actually did it.
But as they grew up, they stopped being as close as they were in childhood. The wish machine got shoved into the corner and forgotten.
And now, after all this time, it had been dragged back into the light.
Garen sighed again. "Fine. Say it."
He knew his sister well.
This was absolutely going to be some unreasonable, ridiculous wish.
But he had no choice. Childhood sins had a way of coming due.
Lux tilted her head and thought for a long time. Then she said, "I haven't decided yet. I'll tell you when I do."
With a wish coin in her hand, she could squeeze Garen whenever she wanted.
So obviously, she was going to use it carefully.
Seeing that smug little look in her eyes, Garen's mind flashed back to Jarvan IV again—and anger surged.
If it weren't for him, none of this would've happened.
Garen turned and walked over to Luke.
"By the way… I know a lot of things about Jarvan IV that people don't."
Luke's eyes lit up. "Oh?"
He hadn't expected a bonus.
He smiled like a man opening a present. "Go on."
So the usually quiet Garen started talking.
And talking.
He dumped every dirty little story about Jarvan IV he could remember.
He even vividly recalled how, when they were kids, Jarvan IV had secretly killed one of Tianna's pets… roasted it… and ate it.
Luke loved this kind of mutual destruction.
He forgot all about his arm. He nodded along, listening with open delight.
Looks like he wouldn't be short on material for the next issue.
A little later—
"That's all," Garen said at last. "I'm leaving."
He gave a crisp farewell and turned to go.
He vaulted onto his horse, and the murderous aura rolling off him made it pretty obvious: he was about to go hunting for Jarvan IV.
Luke had wanted to keep him for lunch, but Garen was already gone—horse pounding the street, getting farther by the second.
Fiora, who'd enjoyed the show from start to finish, lifted her eyes toward Luke and reminded him, "It's lunchtime."
Normally, by now, Luke would've already wandered into the kitchen and started cooking.
But today?
He glanced at the Crownguard girl, said nothing, and flopped onto the rocking chair nearby. Then he closed his eyes like a king refusing to rise from his throne.
He didn't say a word.
But the three women in the courtyard all felt it instantly.
Luke was in a mood.
Fiora understood it, honestly. Getting bitten for no reason would sour anyone's temper.
So she and Sona both looked toward the culprit—Lux—and kept signaling with their eyes.
Do something.
Because if Lux didn't fix this, nobody was eating.
Lux realized it too.
Biting him had felt amazing in the moment—like releasing a whole backlog of anger.
But right after she did it, she regretted it.
She should've waited until after lunch.
Now she had to go soothe this dramatic lunatic.
With Fiora and Sona staring her down, Lux walked over and sat beside Luke, putting on a forced little grin.
"Your Highness… did I bite you too hard just now?"
Luke rolled over like she didn't exist, eyes still shut.
Lux kept her smile, fighting to keep her temper steady.
"That was my fault. Don't be mad, okay?"
"Hmph."
That was all she got.
Lux took a deep breath, crushed down the rising irritation, and tugged up her sleeve to bare her own pale, slender arm. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself.
"If it'll make you feel better, you can bite me back. Then we're even!"
When she said it, she fully prepared herself.
Because Luke absolutely looked like the kind of man who would do it.
But she misjudged him this time.
Even after she offered, he still didn't move.
So Lux leaned closer and started kneading his shoulders, forcing out sweet words through her teeth.
"Someone as generous and magnanimous as you… wouldn't hold a grudge against a helpless little girl like me, right?"
No matter what she said, Luke kept his eyes closed, chin tilted like a proud cat refusing affection.
Fiora and Sona both sighed, almost feeling sorry for Lux.
Luke was harder to comfort than most women.
After a while of massaging with zero results, Lux's patience finally started cracking.
"What do you want from me? At least say something!"
Being ignored like this was unbearable.
Luke opened his eyes at last and gave her a cold, sharp smile.
"You don't understand me at all."
Lux blinked. "If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to understand you?"
Luke stared at her. "Real understanding doesn't need words."
Lux looked even more confused. "If you say it out loud, then I'll understand!"
"What's the point of saying it? If you understood me, I wouldn't have to say it."
"I'm not a mind reader! How am I supposed to know what you mean?"
"I don't mean anything."
Lux got so twisted up by the loop that she just sighed. "Yeah… that's true. This is meaningless."
Luke let out another cold humph, eyes turning even icier.
"Oh. So now everything I say is 'meaningless,' huh?"
Lux: "???"
Her face went blank, like she'd just been hit by a full combo she couldn't block. Dazed. Seeing stars.
When she finally recovered, she stared at Luke, words stuck in her throat.
Can you… be normal?
You're scaring me.
Thankfully, Luke snapped back to normal pretty quickly.
Seeing Lux's helpless, bewildered expression, his mood improved a lot.
Running her through that whole "relationship-argument playbook" felt incredible.
No wonder so many people fought so viciously over it.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.