The next day, Xavier woke up around noon. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, one arm pinned under Lyra's leg and the other half-numb from where her arm was slung over him. Her breathing was slow and warm against his chest. He sighed quietly, the memory of last night replaying in fragments — the endless food deliveries, Lyra slumped asleep on the couch, and then him carrying her to her room like she weighed nothing before crashing into his own bed.

He hadn't even realized when Lyra had slipped in. All he remembered was waking up in the middle of the night to find her sprawled on top of him, her hair brushing against his neck. He'd tried pushing her off a few times, but she kept climbing back in her sleep, like her instincts refused to let her drift too far from him. By the fourth time, he just gave up, resting his arm behind his head and letting her sleep where she wanted.

Now, as the morning buzz settled in, Xavier slid out from under her carefully. Lyra murmured something incoherent and rolled over, hugging the blanket instead. He stretched his arms over his head, bones cracking lightly, and dragged himself toward the kitchen, still half asleep.

He opened the fridge — empty. Not a damn thing except a few bottles of water. He grabbed one, chugged it halfway, then stood there a moment, staring at the empty shelves before ordering a full restock through the apartment's system interface. He was craving something cold, maybe sour, but he'd have to wait.

Feeling restless, he went to the gym room next. His body moved on muscle memory — squats, pushups, a few rounds on the gravity bands — but even after an hour, he felt nothing new. No surge. No flicker of the so-called "Essence" power the goddess had mentioned. Just the usual burn of effort.

When he was done, sweat clinging to his skin, he headed for the cold shower. But the moment he stepped back into the living room, towel draped over his shoulders, he froze.

Lyra was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by empty wrappers, boxes, and plates — all of it from the groceries he'd just had delivered. She was licking sauce off her fingers like she'd just come out of a survival hunt, and when she noticed him staring, she blinked innocently.

"Morning," she said between bites, holding up a half-eaten sandwich. "You want some?"

Xavier just stood there for a second, the corner of his mouth twitching as he glanced around the battlefield that used to be his living room.

"…You didn't," he muttered.

Lyra turned her head, cheeks puffed like a guilty chipmunk. "What?"

He looked at the piles on the table — bags, boxes, wrappers. "I literally just refilled the fridge five minutes ago."

Lyra tilted her head, eyes droopy but bright. "You should've ordered more."

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. "I swear, at this rate I'll have to buy another apartment just for food storage." He walked past her and opened the fridge again, as if hoping something might've respawned. Still empty.

She gave a lazy grin. "I was hungry."

He glanced back at her, arms crossed. "You were supposed to rest, not raid the damn place."

Lyra stretched, the oversized shirt she wore slipping slightly off her shoulder. "I couldn't sleep. My body feels weird… hungry all the time. Like, inside-out hungry."

"Fine," he said finally, tone dry. "You can eat. Just… try not to consume the building next time."

Lyra snorted and leaned back into the couch, clearly unbothered.

Xavier grabbed a water bottle from the counter and sat down opposite her, still studying her movements. Even after everything last night — the chaos, the power talk, the 'deal' at the factory — there was a faint calmness around her now. But under that calm, something was changing. He could almost sense it — like a static charge that hadn't fully sparked yet.

He took a sip of water and muttered under his breath, "Essence, huh… whatever the hell that means."

Lyra blinked up at him, still half-chewing. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, leaning back on the couch. "Just thinking."

"Don't think too hard," she mumbled with a smirk.

Xavier gave her a side-eye. "That mouth's gonna get you in trouble one day."

She grinned wider, wiping her hands. "Maybe. But you'll still feed me."

Lyra was acting normal now. Not her usual kind of normal, but not like last night either — where she'd been a beast in heat. Eating seemed to have settled her down somehow, and Xavier was grateful for that.

He'd always had dirty thoughts about her whenever she got too close, or their bodies brushed by accident. That was normal — any man his age would've felt the same. But right now, when she wasn't quite herself, he didn't want to make a move. He had no clue how she'd react once her mating phase was over, and the last thing he needed was to mess things up between them.

If she went back to her usual self, maybe he'd try something. Maybe he'd make her crave his body the same way she craved food. But for now, distance was safer.

After finishing the leftovers Lyra had saved for him, Xavier headed next door and trained with Viola for a few hours. The session was brutal — not drills, not mock fights, but the kind of training where every hit felt like it could break something. Real combat with real weapons that came bundled with real pain.

Somewhere between the sweat, blood, and ringing steel, he slipped into that mind zone as he realized something— the same one he hit when the world blurred and instincts took over. And in there, a thought struck him. He had been thinking that the last time the fragment's power had awakened inside him was when had made contact with the power fragment, but that wasn't the case. It was when he'd been close to dying. Maybe that was the trigger. Maybe he had to walk the edge again — or straight up die — to wake the next one.

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