"Your Highness, we're home."
As the carriage rolled to a gentle stop, Yurna Doer's voice came from outside.
Luke slowly opened his eyes, his mind clearing fast.
The occasional jolts along the road meant he hadn't fallen into a deep sleep—just a light doze.
He yawned and glanced around the carriage.
Right on cue, his eyes met Fiora's for a single second. Her gaze was as cool and distant as ever, and that beautiful, aloof face carried the faintest hint of a smile.
Then she stood and stepped down.
Sona followed after her.
"Lux, wake up. We're home."
Kahina gently nudged Lux, who was asleep with her head resting on Kahina's shoulder.
The Crownguard girl was sleeping like an angel, a silly little smile on her lips as if she were in the middle of a wonderful dream. Her soft, drowsy expression was downright adorable.
After being nudged twice, she mumbled unconsciously, "Five more minutes…"
Kahina looked helpless and nudged her again. "Wake up first. You can sleep again in a minute."
This time Lux only hummed, showing zero signs of waking up, and even hugged Kahina's arm tighter.
Kahina shot Luke a pleading look.
Luke thought for a second, leaned in close to Lux's small ear, and whispered, "Food's ready."
Lux's eyes fluttered open at once, bleary and unfocused, and she blurted, "Save me a bowl!"
As she spoke, she sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes, then looked around.
First she saw Luke.
Then Kahina beside her.
Then she realized she was still in the carriage.
She blinked in confusion. "Where's the food?"
"In your dreams," Luke laughed, and stepped out.
Kahina followed.
Lux's big eyes were still full of confusion—her brain clearly hadn't booted up yet. She climbed out too, and the three of them walked into the courtyard.
Luke looked up at the sky. A cool breeze swept through the yard and brushed his face, and he stretched with a satisfied sigh.
It was nearly noon already, which meant it was about time to start lunch.
He headed into the main house and disappeared into the kitchen.
At lunch, Luke noticed the girls no longer looked weighed down the way they had in the carriage. They'd returned to normal, just like always.
After lunch, Luke decided to take a nap. He especially loved that feeling of eating until he was full and then immediately sleeping.
When he went to the front yard and lay back in the rocking chair, it wasn't long before he heard light footsteps. Someone sat down in the rocking chair next to him.
Luke cracked an eye open and took a look.
Lux was untying her shoelaces. A few quick motions later, her small shoes were set neatly to the side.
Her bare feet were revealed—slim and pale, delicate and spotless. You could even make out the faint blue lines beneath the skin. Her toes were small and tidy, her feet almost unreal in how perfect they looked.
She seemed to love going barefoot. She used to at least wear socks, but lately she rarely bothered.
After taking off her shoes, she curled up in the rocking chair, clearly sharing Luke's exact plan—enjoying a sweet little afternoon nap.
When Lux slept, she liked curling into herself like a kitten.
Luke looked away and closed his eyes again. Before long, sleepiness washed over him.
By the time he finally woke in the afternoon, the sunlight had softened, and the white clouds in the blue sky had drifted a long way.
When Luke opened his eyes, everything around him was quiet—only the rustle of wind through leaves. It felt strangely empty, like the whole world had been reduced to just him.
He liked that feeling too.
He turned his head. Lux was already gone.
Faintly, he could hear the sound of a lively card game coming from the main house, and the sharp rhythm of sword practice from the back yard.
The moment felt peaceful. Luke stared off for a while, then suddenly remembered something.
He got up at once, called Yurna Doer over, let the girls know where he was going, and then climbed into the carriage and headed out.
Half an hour later…
The carriage stopped at the prison gates.
Luke stepped down and looked at the unchanged dungeon entrance. He hadn't come by in a while.
He'd almost forgotten Sylas was still here.
He walked in without obstruction and made his way to the mage dungeon.
Dierde appeared like a rat catching the scent of grease, hurrying up with a fawning grin.
"Your Highness, it's only been a few days, but you somehow look even more handsome."
He wasn't wrong. Compared to a month ago, Luke really had changed.
After a month of proper living, there was a refined, noble air to him now—clean, bright, and effortlessly elegant.
If before he'd been the kind of handsome that made people do a double-take, now he was the kind that stayed in your mind, the kind that made it hard to look away.
A crisp ding sounded as a gold coin flicked out and dropped into Dierde's hand.
Luke gave him a sideways look, said nothing, and continued down toward the second level.
Dierde stared at the coin, still smiling, but inside he muttered that he must've flattered the wrong way today.
Then again… did Luke even need flattery about his looks?
Stating a fact wasn't exactly persuasive.
Next time, he'd need fresher wording.
Thinking that, he hurried after Luke.
On the second level, Luke soon reached the cell holding Sylas.
After so many visits, the guards at the door were used to it. This time, Luke didn't even have to speak—they opened the door on their own.
Unlike before, the inside wasn't pitch-black. Torchlight flickered on the stone walls, illuminating part of the cell.
Dierde pulled a torch from the wall and stepped in, and the space brightened further.
Luke entered and saw Sylas sitting there.
He was still alive.
One leg served as a makeshift desk, a sheet of paper resting on top. A pen moved steadily in his hand. Beside him lay an open book; on the other side, a candle burned quietly on a holder.
As his hand kept writing, the iron chains on his wrists made soft, constant sounds.
His eyes showed no emotion—like he'd gone numb. Only his gaze moved, drifting between the book and the page.
And along the wall, Luke saw a large stack of neatly arranged papers.
Noticing the newcomer felt different this time, Sylas lifted his head and looked straight at Luke.
It had been many days since the prince last came.
But instead of fading, Sylas's impression of Luke had only sharpened.
Because every time Sylas copied until his wrists and arms ached, he thought of Luke.
Thought of him standing outside the bars, looking down from above.
At first, because he couldn't keep up, he'd gone hungry for three straight days. The hungrier he got, the less strength he had.
But he forced himself through it on sheer stubbornness.
The more this prince tried to grind him down, the more Sylas refused to die—refused to give up his chance to live.
And from another angle… maybe this wasn't purely bad for him.
Through this "task," Sylas had learned a few things about the outside world.
Even if it was only from a handful of books.
"Your Highness," Dierde reported, walking to the stack of papers, "we've followed your instructions strictly. The prisoner copies every day. This is what he's produced, and we've confirmed there are no issues."
Luke stepped closer and casually flipped through a few pages. The handwriting was neat and clear, but the content repeated—like the same book had been copied over and over.
Dierde asked, "What should we do next?"
Luke held one sheet over Dierde's torch. The paper caught instantly, flames licking up from the bottom. Then Luke tossed it onto the stack.
Whoosh—a small fire became a roaring one in a blink.
Dierde froze.
Sylas looked over too, the flames reflected in his eyes.
Days and nights of work—reduced to ash with a casual flick of Luke's hand.
Dierde shifted away from the heat and stared at Luke's blank expression, silently impressed.
So the prince really did enjoy breaking prisoners.
Watching his effort vanish into smoke and cinders—what would that do to a man's mind?
If it were Dierde, he knew he'd crack at least a little.
Sylas showed no expression. He only watched the flames once more, then looked away and continued writing as if nothing had happened.
"You've got him so used to those same few books that he's basically mastered them," Luke said, displeased as he glanced at Sylas's steady hand. "Did it never occur to you to switch them out?"
Dierde lowered his head immediately. "That was my oversight. I accept fault."
He really had only brought a few books and made Sylas copy them again and again.
Toward the end, Sylas barely needed to look—he could flip a page, glance once, and write the whole thing down.
It wasn't difficult anymore.
"Fine. Improvise next time," Luke said.
Once the papers had burned down to a mound of ash, he turned and headed out.
"Yes, Your Highness," Dierde answered, following.
Honestly, the prince's taste was strange.
All that effort, all that trouble, just to watch a stack of paper burn.
Purely psychological warfare.
But then again… powerful people were like that.
Dierde had even seen nobles who came down here just to make male prisoners dance.
Compared to that, Luke's odd hobby didn't seem quite as insane.
When the cell door closed and Luke's back disappeared from view, Sylas remained expressionless—yet thoughtful.
Different sides meant different ways of thinking.
To Sylas, the papers had never mattered. They only existed to be exchanged for food.
Burning them meant nothing.
Because the useful part—the knowledge—was already carved into his mind.
So even now, he still wasn't sure whether this prince truly took pleasure in tormenting him…
Or whether there was another motive.
From entering the prison to leaving, Luke had spent less than thirty minutes inside.
Less time than the trip there.
But Luke had only come to confirm Sylas was still alive. The task he'd left him wasn't easy.
A normal prisoner might've collapsed under it.
Of course, it was also possible that someone simply didn't want Sylas to die.
Either way, it didn't matter.
A living Sylas was far more valuable than a dead one.
Luke didn't actually have a taste for torment. If he was doing this, it was because he had a plan.
It just wasn't time yet.
There were still plenty of things he needed to prepare.
At dusk, as the sun lowered, the carriage finally rolled to a stop back home.
In the courtyard, Lux was half-sprawled in a rocking chair, legs crossed, her bare foot swinging idly. She held a glass of ice-cold Coke and loudly slurped through a straw.
She looked like she was in a fantastic mood—clearly she'd won money at cards.
When she saw Luke step down from the carriage, she immediately asked, curious, "Where'd you go?"
"Went out for a bit."
"Then why didn't you take me?"
"If I took you, you wouldn't have had any money to win," Luke said with a chuckle, giving her a look.
She was basically wearing the words I won big on her face.
Lux's expression turned smug. "How'd you know I won ten gold off Kahina and Sona this afternoon?"
As she spoke, she sat up, slipped her shoes back on, and started bragging about how she'd crushed them with a ridiculous streak of perfect hands—one big win that left the other two completely stunned.
Luke listened as he walked into the main house. The moment he reached the living room, he heard Kahina's furious voice.
"Lux! You little menace—how dare you come back!"
Kahina glared, clearly still annoyed.
Lux snorted. "Why wouldn't I?"
Kahina snapped, "You won and ran! That's evil!"
They'd been having fun, and then Lux hit one massive win and immediately bolted, not giving them a chance to win anything back.
Now, seeing Lux's smug little face paired with Luke's infuriating grin, Kahina felt like she was looking at two copies of the same person.
The prince had completely corrupted her.
Luke had absolutely zero self-awareness. He even turned back and looked down on the blonde girl with open disdain.
Lux returned the look with equal disdain—and a little arrogance, too.
Luke immediately understood.
Give her a few days without consequences and she got cocky again.
The corner of his mouth curled. "Mahjong. A few rounds?"
Feeling like her luck was blazing hot, Lux said confidently, "Fine! I'm taking all three of you today!"
Kahina and Sona exchanged a look and agreed as well.
The four of them sat at the mahjong table, and the clatter of tiles being shuffled drifted out of the living room again and again.
By nightfall, with the final self-drawn win…
Luke stood, smiling brightly. "It's late. Time to make dinner."
That officially ended today's mahjong.
He turned and headed for the kitchen.
Lux collapsed onto the table, looking like she was on the verge of tears.
Kahina and Sona didn't look much better. They patted their empty pockets, their hearts aching.
Another day of Luke winning it all.
And the Crownguard girl, who'd started the night overflowing with confidence, had completely spiraled after she'd fed Luke two monster 32-fan wins.
In the end, even the money she'd won earlier was gone—straight into Luke's pocket.
Only Fiora, who hadn't gotten a seat at the table, escaped disaster. She wore a faintly relieved expression.
Still, a fragrant, delicious dinner soothed their wounded spirits.
And the hot spring afterward healed the rest.
In the steaming pool, today's soak was a rosy medicinal-wine bath, tinting the spring a soft pink.
Several pale silhouettes moved through the perfectly warm water, sending up splashes and ripples, along with bright, clear laughter and conversation.
Luke soaked alone in the left-side pool, sipping a decent cup of clear liquor while a gentle heat wrapped around his body.
After he finished the cup, he leaned back and closed his eyes to rest.
The girls' chatter carried from the pool on the right, and he didn't find it noisy at all.
When enough time had passed, Luke opened his eyes and stood. Water streamed off him in heavy sheets, splashing loudly.
The talking on the right cut off instantly.
Whenever that happened, the girls knew it meant today's soak was over.
Luke walked toward the clothes rack as he said, "Soak five more minutes and get out. If you get dizzy, don't blame me."
This bath had a real kick.
Hot springs opened your pores, and the medicinal mixture included alcohol.
If you soaked too long, you really could get lightheaded. He wasn't joking.
Lux—who handled alcohol the worst—had fainted once early on. At first, just the smell made her feel floaty. She'd gotten a little better with time, but still.
Hearing Luke, the right-side pool filled with the sound of people standing, water sloshing as they rose.
Clearly none of them planned to soak longer. Five minutes more or less made no real difference anyway.
Then a cool breeze swept through.
"Ugh—so cold," Lux's voice complained, and she immediately started running barefoot across the floor, little feet pattering quickly.
Kahina's worried voice followed. "Lux, slow down!"
The weather was drifting farther and farther from summer. You could already feel the chill creeping in.
Luke finished dressing and waited. Soon the girls emerged one after another.
Standing together, all of them looked flushed, their eyes carrying a lazy softness even they didn't seem aware of. Their hair was still slightly damp.
That faint, tipsy warmth from the bath lingered on them.
But their minds were clear, and they returned to the main house.
Sitting on the sofa, Luke counted the days in his head, then looked at Fiora. "Need another session today?"
Over the past few days, he'd done the treatment for Fiora twice already. It worked, of course.
Just not as noticeably as it did for Sona.
After two sessions, Sona's shoulders had already felt lighter, and that improvement had held.
Fiora had been training harder lately, so her shoulders and lower back still hadn't fully eased up.
At Luke's question, Fiora thought for a moment, then nodded lightly.
"After today, the effect should be obvious," Luke said, standing. He went to prepare.
He headed into an unused bedroom on the first floor. An extra massage table had been placed inside—set up in advance.
Not long after, Fiora pushed the door open and stepped in, then closed it behind her.
For some reason, moments like this always made the atmosphere feel a little… charged.
Looking at Luke's back, she felt something like a current running through her.
It was a sensation she'd never experienced before.
Even after two sessions, Fiora still hadn't gotten used to it.
"Alright," Luke said, turning. "Get on the table."
Fiora met his clear eyes—those eyes that always seemed to carry a quiet smile—and nodded again. She walked to the table, took off her shoes, and sat down.
Then she looked at Luke in silence, as if saying something without words.
Luke turned around.
Behind him, soft rustling sounds followed—Fiora was removing her clothes.
After a moment, her voice came—quiet, controlled, and faintly trembling despite its usual coolness.
"Okay."
Luke turned back.
Fiora was lying on her stomach on the massage table.
Her back was flawless and bare, her slim waist toned and firm with the kind of athletic beauty that made it hard to look away. Since she'd just come from the bath, her skin was pale with a rosy warmth, smooth and luminous like polished jade.
No matter how many times Luke saw it, he always wanted to say it.
With a body like that… it was a shame not to give her the full sports-treatment package.
He stepped closer, lit a scented stick he'd prepared, and soon a clean, calming fragrance filled the room.
Then he opened a case, took out a silver needle, and warmed it briefly over the flame.
His gaze settled on Fiora's back. Without hesitation, he placed the first needle.
"Mmph…"
The instant it hit the right spot, Fiora's body trembled slightly, and a small, involuntary sound slipped from her throat.
Warmth spread from the needle, tightening her nerves even more.
She knew Luke had a clear view of her back.
The first-time embarrassment wasn't as intense anymore, but it was still there.
And after all, he'd already seen her and the others in their bathing outfits more than once.
So it wasn't that unbearable—just…
This situation still made her feel flustered in a way she couldn't adapt to.
A faint blush rose across her usually icy face, like the afterglow of wine. She buried her face in the pillow and silently begged for it to end quickly.
Before long, warmth bloomed across multiple points on her back.
Silver needles stood in neat places along her skin.
Luke looked relaxed the entire time. With his level of medical skill, this was effortless—no pressure at all.
When the last needle went in, the needling portion was complete.
Seeing how tense Fiora still was, Luke chuckled. "You should relax. If you keep tensing up, don't blame me if the results aren't as good."
Fiora answered softly, "Mm."
But her body didn't loosen even slightly. She remained rigid.
Luke didn't press it. He walked down toward the foot of the table, his eyes landing on Fiora's feet.
After days of adjustment and correction, they were nearly perfect. Smooth, pale, refined—the arch graceful, the heel rounded, the toes aligned neatly.
Even if Luke wasn't someone who obsessed over feet, he still felt like praising them—and, at the same time, praising his own craftsmanship.
"Next is the alignment work," Luke said. "Pretty much the last time. Ready?"
He placed his hand on her right foot and held it firmly. It felt soft and delicate—and Fiora's body trembled again.
Then Luke didn't hesitate.
Two quick cracks—clean, controlled.
Then he switched to the other foot.
A few motions later, it was done.
"In twenty minutes I'll come back to remove the needles," Luke said, taking one more appreciative glance before turning toward the door. "Stay where you are."
He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Inside the room, Fiora's body finally released all at once. She bit her lip hard, barely stopping a sound from escaping. The cool clarity in her eyes melted into something softer, like water.
That electric, prickling sensation still refused to fade.
And when she realized today was the last time, she felt relieved…
yet, strangely, a little reluctant at the same time.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.