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Chapter 288: Alliance ?

As the carriage came to a halt before the grand mansion, Valeria's mind raced. Despite her composed exterior, she couldn't suppress the twinge of nervousness gnawing at her. 'An audience with a Marquis,' she thought, smoothing a crease in her travel-worn cloak. 'I should have prepared for this.'

Maynter seemed to sense her hesitation. "Lady Valeria," he began as he stepped out of the carriage, turning to offer his hand to her. "The Marquis has arranged for everything. You need not concern yourself with the particulars."

Valeria nodded, taking his hand briefly as she stepped down, her gaze sweeping over the estate's opulent gardens and gleaming stone facade. Despite Maynter's assurances, she knew better. Even if she hadn't come to Andelheim with the intention of seeking noble favor, basic etiquette dictated that she present herself properly—especially when the host was a Marquis. Her current attire, functional as it was, wouldn't suffice.

She was about to voice her concern when Maynter gestured toward a waiting attendant near the entrance. The young woman, dressed in the Ventor family's official livery, curtsied gracefully as they approached.

"Lady Valeria," the attendant said, her voice soft yet clear, "the Marquis has instructed that you be given time to prepare. If you will follow me, suitable attire has been arranged for your audience."

Valeria's surprise flickered for a moment before she quickly masked it. 'He anticipated this.' The thought eased her nerves slightly, but it also confirmed the Marquis's attention to detail—and, perhaps, his desire to make a strong impression.

"Thank you," Valeria replied, her tone measured as she followed the attendant inside.

The interior of the mansion was as grand as its exterior. Polished marble floors reflected the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and gilded accents. The sheer opulence was a stark contrast to the rugged inns and bustling streets of Andelheim, but Valeria kept her expression neutral, focusing instead on the attendant who led her through a series of halls.

Eventually, they arrived at a private chamber. The attendant gestured for her to enter, explaining, "Everything has been prepared for your convenience, my lady. Please take your time."

Inside, Valeria found a meticulously arranged wardrobe, each piece tailored to fit her build yet styled in a way that maintained both elegance and modesty—befitting her status as a knight. She selected a dark green gown with silver embroidery, its understated design striking a balance between formal nobility and her own preferences for practicality.

By the time she emerged, the tension in her shoulders had eased slightly. Though she still felt the weight of the moment, the act of preparing herself helped center her thoughts. 'This isn't just a formality. The Marquis wants something from me,' she reminded herself. 'Whether it's alliance, recognition, or something else, I need to be ready.'

Maynter was waiting just outside the chamber, his expression as composed as ever. "You look most presentable, Lady Valeria," he remarked with a slight nod. "The Marquis himself will greet you at the entrance to the hall."

That gave her pause. Traditionally, such a gesture was reserved for those of equal or higher rank—or individuals the host greatly wished to impress or ally with. Given that the Olarion family was not above the Marquis's station, the conclusion was clear: Marquis Ventor sought to establish goodwill with her.

The realization steadied her. 'This isn't just about courtesy. He sees value in me—or my connections.'

Still, she couldn't afford to be complacent. While she doubted the Marquis would resort to deception—his position left little to gain from such tactics—she resolved to tread carefully. Trust was earned, not freely given.

At last, she was led to the grand entrance of the hall. Marquis Ventor stood waiting, flanked by two knights in ceremonial armor. His presence was commanding yet welcoming, his attire immaculate without being ostentatious. As Valeria approached, he stepped forward and offered a courteous bow.

"Young Lady Valeria," he said, his voice warm and steady. "It is an honor to welcome you to my home. Your performance in the tournament has been nothing short of remarkable."

Valeria returned the gesture with a respectful bow of her own. "Thank you, my lord. I am honored by your invitation and hospitality."

The Marquis smiled, gesturing for her to enter the hall. "Come, let us speak in comfort. I am eager to discuss matters that may benefit us both."

As Valeria followed him into the opulent hall, she felt a small sense of relief. The Marquis's demeanor, while polished, seemed genuine. Yet her resolve remained firm. 'This is a game of politics as much as power. I'll listen carefully—but I'll not let my guard down.'

Valeria followed Marquis Ventor through the grand halls of his mansion, their footsteps echoing faintly against the polished marble floors. They entered a formal chamber bathed in the soft glow of a grand chandelier. The room was furnished with exquisite taste—plush armchairs arranged around a low table of dark mahogany, a backdrop of intricate tapestries depicting historic battles and alliances.

The Marquis gestured for her to take a seat as a servant discreetly poured tea into delicate porcelain cups. Valeria lowered herself gracefully, maintaining a composed posture despite the subtle tension that lingered in the air.

Marquis Ventor settled into his chair opposite her, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. "Lady Valeria," he began, his tone warm yet measured, "you honor me with your presence. I hope the arrangements thus far have been to your satisfaction."

"They have been more than satisfactory, my lord," Valeria replied with a slight incline of her head. "Your hospitality is most gracious."

The Marquis smiled faintly, lifting his teacup. "It is only fitting. Your performance in the tournament has been nothing short of exemplary. You have not only brought honor to yourself but have added prestige to this event."

"You are kind to say so," Valeria said, her voice steady. "The tournament has been a remarkable experience—one that has tested my skills and broadened my perspective."

"Perspective is a valuable thing," the Marquis mused, setting down his cup with a soft clink. "The strength you've shown, both in battle and in demeanor, is rare, Lady Valeria. It is no surprise your name is being spoken so widely."

Valeria offered a faint smile in response, her mind carefully navigating the layers beneath his words. The Marquis's praise was genuine, but she knew it carried an intent.

After a moment of pleasant silence, Marquis Ventor leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Of course, one cannot speak of the tournament without mentioning Sir Lucavion. His... unique style has left an indelible impression, to say the least."

Valeria's gaze sharpened slightly, though she kept her composure. She inclined her head, acknowledging his statement without offering more.

The Marquis studied her carefully, his next words carefully chosen. "I must admit, I find myself curious about the nature of your relationship with him. You have been seen together often, and there seems to be an understanding between you."

Valeria felt her pulse quicken ever so slightly, though she maintained a calm exterior. She met his gaze directly, her tone neutral. "Sir Lucavion and I are acquainted through the tournament. Circumstances have led us to cross paths frequently."

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, his smile faint but knowing. "An acquaintance, you say? Forgive me, Lady Valeria, but it appears to be more than mere coincidence. Your presence during his moments of triumph, the ease with which you converse—these are not the marks of casual association."

Valeria straightened slightly, choosing her words carefully. "Lucavion is... an enigma. He has a way of drawing people into his orbit, whether through his skill or his character. Our paths aligned by chance, but I will not deny that I have come to regard him with respect."

"Respect," the Marquis echoed, his tone thoughtful. "A foundation upon which many great alliances are built." He paused, as if weighing how far to press. "His talent is undeniable, though his methods are unconventional. Such a man is bound to draw both admiration and ire."

Valeria's lips pressed into a thin line. "He is... singular," she said after a moment, her voice carefully measured. "And while his approach may differ from tradition, it is effective."

The Marquis nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on her. "Indeed. It is rare to encounter one who defies convention so completely, and rarer still to see them succeed as he has. Perhaps it is this very quality that makes him so compelling." He leaned back slightly, his expression contemplative.

Valeria's thoughts swirled as the Marquis's words hung in the air. His tone remained polished, his demeanor warm, but the deliberate nature of his probing was unmistakable. 'So that's it,' she thought, her chest tightening ever so slightly. 'I was called here not for my accomplishments, but because of my association with Lucavion.'

The realization brought a subtle pang of disappointment. She had entered the tournament to forge her own path, to be recognized on her own merits. And yet, it seemed that even here, in this carefully curated chamber, her value was being weighed against someone else's shadow.

The Marquis seemed to notice the shift in her expression, the faintest flicker of disappointment that crossed her composed facade. His own smile softened, his posture easing slightly as he leaned forward.

"Lady Valeria," he said gently, his tone carrying an air of reassurance, "I see what you are thinking, and I must correct a misconception. While Sir Lucavion is, without a doubt, an enigma worth studying, his presence is not the sole reason you are here today."

Valeria blinked, the words catching her off guard. She had been so caught up in her interpretation of his intentions that she hadn't considered another possibility.

"After all regardless of an oddball like him, you are one of the few people of current nobility that can match such talents on your own, isn't that so? It appears that Olarion Household's future is bright."

To that, Valeria felt warm in her heart.

'Finally….'

She felt like her efforts were working.

Chapter 289: Alliance ? (2)

As Marquis Ventor set his teacup gently on the table, the soft clink echoed in the chamber, underscoring the weight of his next words. "Lady Valeria," he began, his tone laced with subtle gravity, "your family has endured more than most noble houses could withstand. To rise again, as you have done, is no small feat."

Valeria's gaze flickered, her expression remaining neutral, though her mind sharpened at the turn of conversation. 'He knows more than he lets on,' she thought, a faint tension settling in her shoulders.

"The Olarion name has seen its share of triumphs and trials," the Marquis continued his words carefully measured. "To stand tall after such adversity is a testament to a strength that cannot be ignored."

Valeria inclined her head slightly, her voice steady as she replied, "Adversity tempers resolve, my lord. My family has simply done what was necessary to persevere."

A faint smile graced the Marquis's lips. "Indeed, and that resolve has not gone unnoticed." He leaned forward, his gaze intent. "Your performance in the tournament speaks volumes, not only of your personal prowess but of the enduring legacy your name represents. It is why, I must admit, your presence here is of particular interest to me."

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning. Valeria met his gaze directly, the spark of her curiosity carefully veiled. "I am honored to have drawn your attention, my lord," she said, her tone deliberate. "May I inquire as to the nature of this interest?"

The Marquis's smile deepened, though his expression remained inscrutable. "Certainly," he said smoothly, gesturing toward the elaborate tapestry behind him—a depiction of a battle fought long ago, where knights in shining armor clashed against a horde of shadowed figures. "Do you know the history of this land, Lady Valeria? The delicate balance required to maintain both its borders and its heart?"

Valeria followed his gaze, her mind piecing together the layers beneath his words. "I know that Andelheim stands at the crossroads of many powers," she replied carefully. "Its strength lies not only in its fortifications but in the alliances it forges."

"Precisely," Ventor said, nodding appreciatively. "My domain is one of contrasts, Lady Valeria. The baronies and rural families under my protection look to me for stability, while the central politics of the Arcanis Empire often require a more... discerning hand. It is no small task to navigate both worlds."

Valeria's brow furrowed slightly. "And yet, you seem to do so with great success, my lord. What role do you envision for me in this balance?"

The Marquis's expression grew contemplative, his voice lowering. "You possess something rare, Lady Valeria—a bridge between tradition and the unconventional. The Olarion name carries weight among the nobility, but your actions, your victories, have captured the attention of those who see the future as something more fluid."

He paused, letting his words settle. "I believe our goals align. I wish to strengthen this region, to secure it against both external threats and internal fractures. Your presence, your reputation, could serve as a cornerstone in such efforts."

Valeria's mind churned as she considered his proposition. The Marquis's vision was bold, and his understanding of her value was as flattering as it was calculated. Yet, she couldn't ignore the sense that his offer was not without its price.

"I am humbled by your confidence in me, my lord," she said carefully, "but such endeavors require more than skill or reputation. They require trust."

"Precisely," the Marquis said again, his voice softening. "And that is why I have shared this with you. Trust must be earned, Lady Valeria, and I hope to begin earning yours."

The subtle implications of his words were clear—he sought to bind her, not only with promises but with a shared understanding of ambition and purpose.

'But making such a decision….'

It was not that easy….

Valeria's lips pressed into a faint line, her mind racing behind her composed facade. Marquis Ventor's proposition carried the air of opportunity—a lifeline extended to a family desperately treading water in the tumultuous seas of nobility. And yet, her instincts whispered caution. An alliance, particularly one with someone as astute as Ventor, was rarely free of strings.

Valeria's expression didn't waver, though inwardly her thoughts churned. His praise was artfully woven, his intent clear: to appeal to both her family's pride and her personal ambition. But was that all? A flicker of doubt tightened her chest.

'He's not telling me everything,' she thought. It was too convenient. Her instincts warned her that her sudden rise to prominence in the tournament wasn't the sole factor driving his interest. Was it her reputation? Her connections? Or something else entirely?

Her voice, steady but cool, broke the quiet. "Trust is indeed the foundation of any enduring partnership, my lord."

She started.

Now that she is in the territory of the Marquis, she can't outright be disrespectful, and she also can't be too open with her demands.

After all, be it the position of nobility or the position of reputation economics, in terms of nearly everything, her family was beneath the Marquis'.

Hence she needed to be careful more than ever.

"But, being in this world for so long, you must be aware of the fact that trust is not something to be taken lightly, my lord," she said, her tone respectful yet unyielding. "To honor the confidence you are willing to place in me, I must also ensure that I regard it with the gravity it deserves. An alliance of this nature is not a decision to be made in haste."

The Marquis inclined his head, his sharp eyes gleaming with a flicker of approval. He seemed unfazed, even appreciative of her caution. "Wise words, Lady Valeria. Trust, after all, is the foundation of every enduring endeavor. I would expect no less care from someone of your stature."

Valeria dipped her head in acknowledgment, though her thoughts swirled beneath her composed exterior. She was keenly aware that her response, while polite, was a tactful evasion—a bid for time to reflect on the Marquis's true motives and the ramifications of aligning with him.

"Your understanding is appreciated, my lord," she said. "This opportunity, as you've presented it, is not one I would dismiss lightly. With your permission, I would like the chance to consider it thoroughly."

The Marquis leaned back slightly, his hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair. His expression softened, and the faintest hint of a smile graced his lips. "Of course, Lady Valeria. Such decisions demand careful thought. Take all the time you require. My offer stands, as does my confidence in your judgment."

She rose gracefully from her seat, offering a polite bow. "Your generosity is most gracious, my lord. I will take my leave for now, but I shall not keep you waiting longer than necessary."

The Marquis stood as well, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. "I trust your deliberations will yield clarity, Lady Valeria. Should you have any questions or require further assurances, my door remains open."

"Thank you, my lord," Valeria replied, her tone steady. She turned and strode toward the chamber door, her movements controlled and deliberate. As the door closed softly behind her, she felt the weight of the conversation press against her shoulders.

As she made her way through the opulent halls of the Ventor estate, her thoughts churned. The Marquis had given her the time she sought, but she knew it would be fleeting. His patience, while genuine, was not infinite.

'Trust must be earned,' she mused silently. The Marquis had said so himself, yet his own actions revealed a man who wielded trust as both a weapon and a shield. She couldn't afford to underestimate him, nor could she dismiss the potential value of his alliance.

For now, she resolved to seek clarity—not just in the offer itself but in her own instincts. A flicker of discomfort rose within her, a sense that she was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Her mind wandered to Lucavion, and she couldn't help but feel that his irreverent perspective might prove unexpectedly useful.

'Where is that fool?' she thought, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. He had an uncanny knack for appearing precisely when she least wanted him around. Yet now, with the weight of Ventor's offer hanging heavy, his presence seemed strangely appealing.

Brushing the thought aside, Valeria headed toward her quarters. There would be time enough to wrestle with the complexities of Ventor's proposition. For now, she needed to center herself, to plan her next move with the precision of a blade poised for a decisive strike.

*******

Lucavion's eyes fluttered open, his vision adjusting to the dim light of an unfamiliar room. The ceiling above him was ornate, intricate carvings running along its edges, the soft glow of a crystal chandelier illuminating the space. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp cleanliness of freshly laundered sheets.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted slightly, the plushness of the mattress beneath him confirming what he already suspected. This wasn't the dusty corner of a healer's tent or the hard cot of a barracks. This was luxury—extravagant, high-end luxury.

"I really overexerted myself," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with faint amusement.

Before he could muse further, a sharp voice echoed in his mind, carrying a mix of anger and exasperation.

[You fool! You almost blasted your own core!]

The sulky tone was unmistakable. Vitaliara's presence flared in his consciousness, a familiar warmth tinged with irritation. Lucavion let out a soft chuckle, his smirk widening.

'Well, good morning to you too, Vitaliara,' he thought, deliberately teasing.

[Don't you 'good morning' me!] she snapped, her voice rising. [Do you have any idea how close you were to ruining yourself? That reckless stunt—do you even know what you did? You didn't just push your limits; you trampled all over them like a lunatic!]

Lucavion exhaled slowly, letting her words wash over him. She wasn't wrong. What he'd done in that fight—it hadn't been planned, calculated, or even something he had trained for. It had been pure instinct, a moment where his body had moved without thought, his heart dictating the flow of mana in a way his mind couldn't fully comprehend.

'I just… did what felt right,' he admitted to himself, though he didn't say it aloud. His body, however, had clearly disagreed with his decision. Even now, he could feel the lingering ache in his core, the faint tremor in his limbs from the strain of that final technique.

["What felt right,"] Vitaliara echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief. [Do you even hear yourself? That wasn't a technique—that was suicide! Your core was seconds away from collapsing under the strain. And for what? A flashy display of chaos?]

Lucavion chuckled softly again, though the sound was accompanied by a faint wince as he shifted in the bed. "You've got a point," he said aloud, his voice carrying a note of wry humor. "It wasn't exactly the smartest move, was it?"

[No, it wasn't!] she shot back, though her tone softened slightly. [But… it was effective. I'll give you that much.]

He could almost feel her rolling her eyes in exasperation, and the thought made his smirk deepen. "Admit it," he teased, his voice low. "You were impressed."

[I was terrified, you idiot,] Vitaliara retorted, though there was a faint flicker of something else in her voice—reluctant admiration, perhaps. [That kind of power... it's not something you just throw around recklessly. It's dangerous, not just to your enemies but to yourself. If you're going to use it, you need to train. You can't keep relying on your instincts alone.]

Lucavion closed his eyes briefly, her words settling into his mind like ripples on still water. She was right, of course. What he'd done in the arena had been reckless, a gamble that could have cost him everything. But at that moment, as the flames had surged and his instincts had taken over, it hadn't felt wrong. It had felt… freeing.

"Ah, you are awake."

Just then the voice of a woman entered his ears.

Chapter 290: Tables Turned ?

Lucavion's head tilted slightly at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, his smirk returning as his eyes flicked toward the source. Standing near the doorway was a woman who appeared to be slightly middle-aged, her graceful demeanor complemented by a serene smile. Her dark hair was swept back in a neat bun, and she wore a fitted healer's robe that exuded both professionalism and elegance.

"Well, aren't you a sight," Lucavion remarked, his voice carrying a teasing edge. His eyes flicked over her once, casually appraising. "Quite a beauty."

The woman raised an eyebrow, but her smile widened, carrying a warmth that was both genuine and playful. "Ah, thank you," she said, her tone calm and steady as she stepped closer. "Though I must say, you have quite the silver tongue for someone barely holding onto their strength."

Her graceful response made him chuckle softly. "It's a talent. Can't let a little exhaustion ruin the charm."

The woman let out a soft laugh, shaking her head lightly. "You're as charming as you are reckless, it seems," she said, her tone carrying a note of amusement. "But I'll take the compliment regardless. It's not every day one gets praised by the infamous Sword Demon."

Lucavion's smirk deepened at her words, but before he could reply, Vitaliara's voice rang out in his mind, cutting through the moment.

[That's her, you know,] she said, her tone carrying a peculiar edge he couldn't quite place. [The one who healed you. She's incredibly talented. Without her expertise, your recovery would have been agonizingly slow.]

Lucavion hummed softly, acknowledging her words as his gaze flicked back to the woman. "You have my gratitude, then," he said, inclining his head slightly. "It seems your talents saved me from quite a bit of suffering."

The woman waved a hand dismissively, her smile never faltering. "No need for thanks. Healing is what I do, though I must admit you gave me quite the challenge. Your condition was… unique."

Her words carried a weight that hinted at unspoken thoughts, but Lucavion didn't press. Instead, his focus lingered on the faint tone in Vitaliara's voice as she spoke again.

[Unique, indeed,] Vitaliara said, her voice sharper now. [She handled it well, though. Without her skill, your recklessness could've cost us more than just time.]

Lucavion's smirk shifted slightly as he mentally addressed her. 'You sound a little… edgy, Vitaliara. Something bothering you?'

[Don't be ridiculous,] she snapped, though her tone carried a faint huff. [I'm simply stating the facts. She's good—very good. Just don't go throwing out compliments too freely.]

Lucavion chuckled inwardly, finding her tone far more entertaining than her words intended. 'Noted,' he thought, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed how little he planned to adhere to that advice.

"I must ask," the healer said, pulling his attention back to her. "How are you feeling now? Any lingering pain or discomfort?"

Lucavion leaned back slightly against the pillows, feigning thought for a moment.

'Hehe…'

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as an idea formed—a way to pass the time and perhaps amuse himself at the healer's expense.

He let out a dramatic groan, his body shifting slightly under the covers as if he were in great discomfort. "Ah…" he murmured, his voice low and strained as though even speaking was an effort.

The woman's serene expression flickered with concern as she stepped closer. "Hmm? What is it?" she asked, her tone laced with professional care.

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his smirk hidden as he let out another exaggerated groan. "It's my body…" he said, his voice carrying a faint tremble. He made a show of attempting to sit up, his arms faltering as though the effort was too much. "It aches everywhere. The strain from the fight… I think I might have pushed too far."

Her brow furrowed slightly, and she placed a hand on her hip. "Aches? Where exactly?" she asked, stepping even closer.

Lucavion bit back a grin as he shifted again, wincing dramatically. "My back… my shoulders… and, ah, my sides," he said, pausing as though embarrassed. "I think I may need a little help. You know, just to loosen the muscles." He gave her a faint, sheepish look, carefully calculated to appear endearing.

The woman blinked at him for a moment, her serene smile returning with an unexpected sharpness. "Is that so?" she said, her tone calm but with a faint edge that made Lucavion pause. "Well, I am a healer. Let's see what we can do."

Before he could respond, she gracefully rolled up her sleeves, her movements smooth and deliberate. She approached the bed with a measured step, her expression unchanging as she reached out to gently press her fingers against his shoulder.

Lucavion's smirk widened as her hand brushed against him, but the moment was short-lived. With practiced precision, her fingers found a knot of tension in his muscles, and she applied firm pressure without warning.

"Argh!" Lucavion yelped, his smirk vanishing as a sharp twinge shot through his shoulder. "What are you—?"

"Oh, it's just muscle tension," she said sweetly, her serene smile unwavering. "A common issue after intense exertion. You did say your back and shoulders were aching, didn't you?" Her fingers pressed into another spot, eliciting a faint wince from him.

Lucavion gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his composure, but she was relentless. Her touch, while undeniably skilled, had no hesitation, and the pressure she applied left him struggling to keep his act intact.

"Ah—wait—hold on!" he managed, squirming slightly as her hands moved to his sides. "I didn't mean—"

"Nonsense," she interrupted, her tone as light as ever. "If you're in pain, it's my duty as a healer to help. And you did ask for my assistance, didn't you?" Her hands moved with clinical precision, pressing against spots that sent faint shocks through his body.

Lucavion flushed faintly, the situation slipping further out of his control. What had started as a playful attempt to tease her had completely backfired? He tried to shift away, but her grip was firm, her movements efficient.

Vitaliara's voice echoed in his mind, smug and amused. [Oh, this is rich. Please, do keep squirming—it's thoroughly entertaining.]

'Not helping, Vitaliara,' he thought, his smirk now replaced with a faint grimace.

The woman finally stepped back, her serene smile intact as she dusted off her hands. "There," she said brightly. "That should help with the soreness. Be sure to rest, though—no more pushing yourself recklessly."

Lucavion cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly against the pillows. "Ah, yes… thanks," he muttered, his usual charm slightly diminished. His gaze flicked toward the ceiling as he tried to salvage his composure.

Lucavion shifted uncomfortably as his gaze flicked to the woman's face. Her serene smile now carried a knowing glint, one that made it abundantly clear she was fully aware of his earlier ploy. Her poise, her calm demeanor—it all suddenly felt far more formidable than he'd anticipated.

'I guess I underestimated a mature woman's wits…' he thought inwardly, the faintest hint of defeat creeping into his mind.

With a resigned sigh, Lucavion leaned back against the pillows, raising a hand in mock surrender. "Fine, you win," he said, his voice carrying a wry edge.

The woman's composed facade cracked, and she let out a hearty laugh—full, warm, and entirely unbothered by his attempt to salvage his pride. The sound was unexpectedly infectious, filling the room with a rare lightness.

"Oh, you really are quite a character, Mister Lucavion," she said between chuckles, her tone genuinely amused. "It's no wonder they call you the Sword Demon. You must drive everyone around you mad."

Lucavion felt his mouth twitch faintly, the corner pulling into an involuntary half-smile even as his pride took another hit. His usual charm and teasing had met an opponent he couldn't quite outmaneuver, and the sting of defeat—though small—was undeniable.

He exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "Well," he said with a faint shrug, his voice carrying its usual nonchalance despite the circumstances, "I do like to keep things… interesting."

The woman gave him a long, appraising look, her smile softening but losing none of its warmth. "Oh, I've no doubt about that," she said. "Rest now, and try not to pull any more stunts while you're healing. Next time, I might not go so easy on you."

As she turned to leave, Lucavion let his head fall back against the pillows, his gaze shifting to the ceiling once more. He sighed inwardly, the faint sting of his failed antics lingering.

CREAK!

Just then the door opened and someone entered.

"Ah, Miss Valeria."

With her identical pink hair, it was Valeria.

But for some reason, she looked rather….

Cold?

As the room was freezing a little.