In the afternoon, during outdoor class, free-practice time.
Luke lay flat on a long bench with one leg crossed over the other, soaking up a lazy summer afternoon.
The weather lately wasn't nearly as scorching as before. Every now and then it even rained, and the air turned pleasantly cool.
He cracked one eye open and glanced toward the Crownguard girl not far away.
Lux was holding a long blade. Eyes closed, she stood perfectly still, not moving an inch.
Seeing that, Luke couldn't help asking, "What are you doing?"
"Don't talk." Lux replied with a serious little face, still not opening her eyes. "I'm sensing the wind."
So Luke shut up, yawned, and watched.
Lux had always kept a steady interest in Wind Technique swordsmanship. Most outdoor classes at the Royal Academy, she spent learning whatever she could from Luke.
As for Luke… he really wasn't cut out to be a teacher. So when he shared "experience," his method was basically: shove everything he knew at her in one go—then whether she learned it or not was her problem.
Still, from an outside perspective, Luke could tell her proficiency was climbing day by day.
She'd even grasped the core of the Wind Technique—wind intent.
According to Lux, she'd felt it on the very first day.
At first, Luke didn't believe her.
But after a few sparring sessions, he'd clearly sensed the wind intent rolling off her—solid and steady.
At least Level 2—barely through the doorway.
And how long had it been since she started learning?
A month.
Not to mention a decent chunk of that month had been spent slacking off with Luke.
Which made it ridiculous.
Luke hadn't been to Ionia, so he didn't know how common this was over there, but from what the system had told him, wind intent wasn't something you just casually picked up.
It was only a step below true Wind Technique sword intent—basically the entry barrier.
If you couldn't grasp wind intent, you might as well say goodbye to the Wind Technique entirely.
And the sturdier and stronger your wind intent was, the more power you could bring out when you used the Wind Technique.
Lux had reached "barely through the doorway" in one month.
That made Luke realize something:
This little menace was very likely a genius.
Lying there, Luke's gaze drifted to Lux's clean, innocent face. That small face was unusually focused right now.
Watching her, Luke couldn't help thinking to himself—
Maybe this was what people meant by fools having fool's luck.
It was like the heavens closed one door on her… then opened a whole row of windows.
Maybe she sensed his stare. Lux slowly opened her eyes and immediately looked over—catching the exact look on his face.
She instantly scowled, lifting a small fist in silent threat.
Her instincts screamed that he definitely wasn't thinking anything nice.
Luke just smiled, turned his gaze away, and started admiring the blue sky and white clouds.
"Hmph." Lux adjusted her stance and closed her eyes again, returning to her wind intent.
Luke's eyes drifted back to her.
A light breeze happened to pass through, swaying her golden hair. Standing under the sun, she looked like a painting.
In his memory, she didn't seem that different from when they first met.
And yet… she did.
Maybe it was because she'd been eating too well lately, plus those frequent medicinal baths. Her skin looked even paler and softer. Her petite frame seemed to have stretched out a little too, giving her a slender, budding grace—enough curves now to hint at what she'd grow into.
For some reason, Luke suddenly had the distinct feeling of—
The neighbor's kid really had grown up.
Ding-ding-ding—
A bell rang out from the field.
Not the end-of-class bell.
A gathering bell.
Luke sat up. Lux opened her eyes too.
They quickly made their way to the field. Students ran in from every direction, and in no time everyone had assembled.
The instructor stood at the front, expression stern.
"Announcement: Three days from now, the Royal Academy will be organizing a hunting event. Anyone interested may sign up."
Luke didn't have much of a reaction.
Autumn was approaching, and it was the perfect season for hunting.
Demacians typically enjoyed hunting—some regions even lived off it.
Demacia sat on the western edge of Valoran, with forests everywhere. If you could look down from the highest peaks, the country would seem like it was ringed and cradled by towering mountains.
And within those forests lived plenty of magical beasts—some gentle, some vicious.
Creatures like Gromp and Razorbeaks—those "jungle monsters" from the game—were just two examples among countless others across the continent.
Naturally, these beasts ranged in strength.
For instance, Baron Nashor—a creature that existed only in legend on Valoran. To this day, nobody had truly seen it.
Or rather… anyone who had seen it was probably already dead.
Of course, it was the kind of thing people told like a ghost story.
But there was one legend that wasn't just a story.
Dragons—also called the dragonkin.
These were powerful magical creatures that Demacian history had already confirmed as real. True dragons had vanished from Valoran long ago, but dragon legends never really died.
Every so often, rumors would spread that someone had seen one.
And beasts with even a trace of dragon blood often possessed formidable strength.
Like Demacia's winged dragonbirds—natural-born predators that lived among sheer cliffs.
Even so, in extremely rare cases, certain people could form close bonds with them, becoming Dragonbird Riders.
Dragonbird Riders served in the Demacian military, scouting enemy positions and disrupting battle lines.
As the years passed, Demacians gradually learned how to coexist with dragonbirds, and in recent years, Dragonbird Riders had become more common.
As for the gentle, weaker magical beasts—
A famous example: the Rift Scuttler.
Along Demacia's rivers and coasts, you could often find these. They moved through the water faster than many aquatic creatures, weren't aggressive, were annoyingly tough… and tasted just okay.
Nowhere near as good as a proper fireclaw crab from warmer seas.
The Royal Academy even had dedicated courses covering recorded magical beasts.
Some beasts' hides, bones, and even flesh were valuable—one more reason hunting mattered.
Still, Luke wasn't particularly interested.
And beside him, Lux looked equally bored.
Then the instructor added, "This hunting event will count as a small competition. Higher hunting scores earn credit rewards. First place earns one hundred credits."
Credits?
Luke—who'd been completely indifferent—instantly lit up.
Now you're speaking my language.
Credits meant vacation.
Last time, winning first place in that essay contest had gotten Luke several glorious days off.
And this time, first place was a hundred credits.
Five credits equaled one day off.
One hundred credits meant twenty full days.
At that very moment, Luke was already daydreaming about how he'd spend them.
Next to him, Lux looked equally energized.
So after outdoor class ended, the two of them went straight to the sign-up desk.
Before registering, they also read the basic info for the event.
Luke held the notice in his hands. Lux shoved in close beside him to read too.
Both of their eyes were fixed on the page.
"Edesa Town, up north… That's pretty far, isn't it?" Luke looked at the location and turned his head—only to find Lux's face right next to his.
She looked thoughtful, then said, "It's not close. I remember when we went to Mithril City, we passed through Edesa. It took several days."
Luke nodded, thinking. "So that means we can slack off for a few days just on the road?"
Lux's eyes lit up too—exactly the same thought.
The trip itself would take days. The hunt would last a full week.
All together, that meant at least ten-plus days of not having to sit in class.
It was basically heavenly.
Yeah. They absolutely had to sign up.
But when they reached the registration teacher, they got a piece of bad news.
"To sign up for this hunting competition, you must first bring proof that you've passed the academy qualifying exam. Only then are you eligible to register."
The qualifying exam was a gate for the hunt—meant to block students with terrible grades who just wanted to go mess around.
For example…
A certain little blonde menace.
Lux froze with a blank face on the spot.
And so—
After the qualifying exam, Luke easily registered with his passing results.
Meanwhile, Lux stared at her score sheet—twelve points—then shed tears of regret.
The experience taught her a brutal lesson.
When she saw Luke holding his perfect-score paper and looking at her with pure disdain, Lux quietly clenched her fist.
In that moment, she swore to herself:
From today onward, she would study hard.
She wouldn't let anyone look down on her again.
That night, when Lux returned to the Crownguard estate, she didn't even say hello—she just marched straight into her room.
Augatha, confused, went upstairs. When she opened the door, she saw her daughter at her desk, writing furiously, face intensely serious.
Augatha was shocked.
For the first time—truly the first time—Lux was studying on her own without being told.
Her baby had finally grown up.
Augatha wiped the corners of her eyes, moved by emotion, backed out of the room, and gently shut the door.
Ten minutes later…
After scribbling a chaotic mess across several sheets, Lux wiped the sweat from her forehead and felt the hardship and exhaustion of "learning."
She glanced at the clock on the wall, then at the darkness outside, and muttered as she stood up.
"I worked really hard today. I'll leave the rest to tomorrow's me!"
She flopped onto her bed, changed into pajamas, and rested her head on a soft pillow.
Before long, a sweet smile curled at the corners of her mouth as she drifted into dreamland.
At the same time…
At a noble banquet.
Fiora sat alone on a chair, eyes bored, poking at a dessert with her fork to pass the time.
This dessert tasted nowhere near as good as the food that guy made.
Around her, young noble heirs and ladies chatted cheerfully—like they lived in a different world.
It was a business gathering. Elma had insisted on dragging her here, hoping she'd meet more people.
But Elma was destined to be disappointed.
Whether it was their topics or the people themselves, Fiora couldn't muster even a shred of interest.
She sat there, completely out of place—yet her cold, breathtaking beauty and aloof aura still made her stand out.
A phonograph in the hall played soft music.
A young nobleman, well-dressed and neatly groomed, with a handsome face, approached and bowed, offering his hand.
"Beautiful lady, may I invite you to dance?"
Fiora refused without hesitation. "Sorry. Not interested."
"Well… alright."
He straightened with an awkward smile and retreated.
Fiora kept her gaze on the cake.
That made eight invitations tonight.
Being around that guy for too long had almost made her forget she was actually popular.
So why, in his eyes, was she just "that sword-girl"?
Then she saw her mother walking over.
Elma frowned at her. "That was the young master of House Mills—someone fairly well-known among his generation. Why did you reject him without even looking?"
Fiora replied, "Because I'm not interested."
"You girl, that was rude. What did I tell you on the way here?"
Elma's carefully done makeup couldn't hide her irritation. "You're supposed to meet more people. But you've sat here all night. Have you said more than three sentences to anyone?"
Fiora thought about it. "Sorry. Not interested. My apologies. That's more than three sentences, isn't it?"
"That's sophistry!"
Elma grew even more annoyed, staring at her cold-faced daughter, helpless.
She couldn't exactly say: One of those boys might be your future husband.
With Fiora like this, even if the most outstanding man in Demacia stood in front of her, she wouldn't spare him a second glance.
How was that acceptable?
A girl grew up. Eventually, she had to marry.
Elma's frustration spiked.
Then footsteps sounded behind them.
"Lady Laurent. Long time no see."
A woman's voice floated over. Elma's expression shifted.
Fiora noticed immediately.
Elma turned to face the approaching noblewoman, her face sour enough that she didn't even want to respond.
In contrast, the other woman wore a bright smile and looked Elma up and down.
"Lady Laurent doesn't look so well. Haven't been sleeping lately?"
Elma said coldly, "Dana, I have nothing to talk to you about."
"Don't be so angry right away." Dana smiled, raising her glass. "But I really should apologize. I accidentally stole all your business lately. I'm so sorry."
Elma's anger flared instantly, written all over her face as she was about to snap—
Sébastien stepped in front of her, blocking Dana. He looked at the woman calmly.
"Lady Stanel. Another time. It's late, and my wife and I are returning home."
"Alright, then." Dana kept smiling. "Sleep well tonight."
Fiora could hear the syrupy edge under the words.
But finally, they could leave.
In the carriage ride home…
Elma vented everything she hadn't been able to unleash before.
"Did you see that wretch's expression? I've never seen a noblewoman more skilled at stirring trouble."
"I'm furious. Since when does some second-rate house get to talk to me like that?"
"Just because her luck has been good lately—what's she so smug about? Fortunes change. One day it'll swing back to me!"
Elma's rant echoed in the carriage.
Sébastien and Fiora stayed quiet.
Once Elma's anger ran out, her expression shifted into worry. She glanced at her silent daughter—there were things she didn't want to say in front of her.
But even if Elma didn't say it, Fiora had already noticed.
House Laurent had been running into business troubles lately.
Their family's main business in the capital was wine. Over a decade ago, when they were at their peak, their sales were unbeatable.
But times changed.
Their wines were being left behind, no longer as popular as before.
Competition had appeared—and plenty of it.
House Stanel was one of the strongest competitors, and over the years the two houses had clashed repeatedly in business.
In the last few months, House Stanel had developed a new recipe. Once released, it drew strong reactions and widespread praise.
And just like that, House Laurent—barely holding its own—was crushed.
Against the new wine, they had no answer at all.
Especially over the last two months, the losses kept piling up. They hadn't made a profit in a long time.
Seeing her mother's worried face, Fiora spoke. "Why don't we make a new wine too?"
Elma froze, then understood what Fiora meant and sighed. "Wine isn't that easy to make. You have no idea how much effort it takes to develop something new."
Fiora tilted her head.
Then why did it feel like that guy made it look effortless?
After thinking, she added, "When we get back, come somewhere with me."
She knew the barrels of wine sitting in Luke's courtyard—pick any one of them, bring it to market, and it would probably explode in popularity.
Of course, that depended on whether he was willing.
The only thing she could do for her family was serve as the bridge.
Clearly, Elma didn't understand what she meant. "Where?"
Fiora replied, "You'll see when we get there."
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