Claire had always been the more skilled one. Even Nora often teased Damien for slightly oversalting food, or for chopping ingredients too big or too unevenly. He cooked well, but he wasn't exceptional.

Or so they thought.

What they were looking at on the table now completely shattered that mindset. After tasting this, there was no way they could ever see Damien as "below" Claire in cooking again. This meal changed everything.

Damien simply sighed softly, his expression calm as he watched their reactions. A small smile formed at the corner of his lips—subtle, warm, and somehow teasing. "Don't worry," he said lightly, his voice smooth. "Just enjoy…"

Claire and Nora glanced at each other, their cheeks slightly red, their eyes shining with anticipation. Then, almost in perfect sync, they pulled their chairs out and sat down at the table.

Their hands moved slowly, almost reverently, as if touching the food too quickly would break some delicate illusion. They each picked up a piece of brioche layered with salmon and cream cheese.

And then they took their first bite.

Their lips parted slightly, their teeth sinking into the soft bread, the delicate salmon, the creamy cheese, the burst of flavor from the caviar—and instantly, their eyes widened.

A soft gasp escaped Claire's lips.

Nora's eyelids fluttered as if her entire soul had just ascended.

The taste was… indescribable.

Rich, soft, smooth, smoky, creamy—everything blended perfectly in their mouths.

They took another bite—then another—then another.

Their hands trembled with excitement.

Their cheeks flushed.

Their breathing sped up as they hurried to take the next mouthful.

Within moments, both women were fully immersed in the heavenly flavors, unable to stop themselves.

Damien watched from the side, leaning slightly against the wall with a faint, satisfied smile resting on his face. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Watching them enjoy the meal this much was more than enough.

Minutes passed in sheer bliss.

Eventually, the plates were empty, and Claire and Nora remained sat at the table, their eyes half-dazed from pleasure.

*

A short while later, Damien stood in the sitting room, fully dressed and ready for the day.

His posture was relaxed yet firm as he adjusted the collar of his elite academy uniform. The crisp fabric hugged his frame nicely, the bold insignia at the side gleaming faintly under the morning light.

He glanced down at himself, running a hand across the smooth cloth.

'I better wear my uniform this time… to avoid problems,' he thought.

He might not care much for the academy's rules—truthfully, there were few things in this world that could bother him—but he still understood the importance of not being unnecessarily careless.

Causing avoidable trouble, especially now that he had other things to focus on, simply wasn't worth the effort.

And so, dressed neatly in his elite uniform, Damien exhaled lightly and prepared to head out.

Just then, the door to the room opened slowly, and Claire and Nora stepped out, their faces still slightly flushed.

"You're already going back to the academy…?" Claire asked, her voice soft, almost afraid that the answer might disrupt the comfort they had enjoyed at home.

Damien turned slightly toward them, a warm, calm smile spreading across his face. "Yes," he said simply, nodding.

Both women blinked, their expressions momentarily frozen in surprise.

Then, after a brief pause, Nora spoke up, her voice small and uncertain. "You know… I heard elite students were meant to stay at the academy… are you sure you're not going to get into trouble?"

Damien's smile didn't falter. He shook his head lightly, his eyes gleaming with quiet confidence. "Don't worry about that," he said.

The two women exchanged glances, both of them silently acknowledging the truth in his words.

But even as relief began to wash over them, they couldn't help but feel a pang of concern.

They loved the fact that Damien had come back. His presence in the village had been a shield, a protector against the dangers that had stalked them.

If he hadn't returned, if he hadn't faced the beast horde and dealt with countless threats on their behalf, they—and many others in the village—would have been dead.

They could still remember the sensation vividly, the creeping dread that had clawed at their chests, the subtle fear that each shadow might bring their end.

It was a memory that hadn't fully faded, and it made them anxious about him facing unnecessary risks—even for something as simple as returning to the academy.

Claire stepped closer, biting her lip, her voice stammering slightly. "It… it coming home like this… it puts you in trouble. You… you can remain at the academy. You don't have to risk yourself just to come back here."

Her words were soft but carried the weight of her concern, her eyes shining with the need to protect him just as he had protected them countless times.

She continued, her voice steadier now, "You don't have to worry about us so much… we'll be okay. The village… everyone will manage."

Damien's smile deepened, calm and reassuring, as he shook his head lightly.

"Don't worry," he said simply. "Sleeping at the academy dorms is optional."

The statement carried a hint of amusement, but it was factual. He wasn't wrong.

The academy had rules, certainly, and it had the dormitories for elite students, but there was no requirement that he had to remain there.

He could come and go as he pleased, as long as he met his obligations and didn't completely break protocol.

The only real problem he might face would be the other elite students who looked down on him, quietly judging him for his commoner background.

They would whisper, sneer, or try to assert some petty dominance. But to Damien, they were nothing more than side characters in his story. Their disdain or their attempts at superiority barely registered.

He had faced stronger opponents, had navigated far deadlier challenges, and had manipulated events in ways that shaped the world around him.

A few spoiled students treating him like an inconvenience or a curiosity was hardly a serious concern.

Claire and Nora both seemed to understand, their expressions softening, though concern lingered in their eyes.

They knew that he wasn't just joking—he truly didn't see the academy students' opinions as a problem worth worrying about.

And in their hearts, even as they admired and adored him, they accepted that this was part of what made Damien… Damien.

With that understanding, Claire's shoulders relaxed slightly, and Nora let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

They had grown accustomed to relying on him, but they also understood that he was always aware, always calculating, always prepared.

His care for them was evident, but it didn't make him reckless, and that balance—between being their protector and being independent—was what made him exceptional.

Damien, sensing their eyes on him, straightened, checking the fit of his uniform one last time.

"Besides," he said, "I'd rather be with you two than at the academy…"

The words landed like a soft, deliberate blow. Claire's eyes widened, her hands instinctively tightening in front of her chest, while her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Nora's reaction mirrored hers almost immediately; her lips parted slightly, and she buried her hands momentarily in the folds of her pajamas, cheeks turning a shade of red that rivaled the morning sun.

Damien moved closer to them, taking quite an handful of the huge flesh mountains on their chests.

The two women moaned softly in response, biting their lips as shocks coursed through their bodies.

"Don't your pussies want me… here always?" Damien asked teasingly, winking at them.

They nodded almost immediately, not even bothering to hide the lust in their eyes.

Damien's smirk deepened at the sight of their reactions, a subtle gleam of amusement flashing across his eyes.

He didn't linger on their embarrassment, though; with a light step and that same air of unshakable confidence, he turned and left the house.

Within minutes, he arrived at the center of the village, where a lush, meticulously crafted chariot had been stationed.

It was the same kind that drove him to the academy last time.

The villagers around easily noticed the chariot, which stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the village.

They started murmuring among themselves, some pointing fingers in awe, and others whispering in groups.

Damien's eyes flicked to the chariot, and a sharp, calculating glint flashed in their depths. 'As expected…' he thought. They sent one to pick me.

He knew exactly why. The academy would never allow one of their prestigious elite students to take public transport—an act considered vulgar, unbecoming, and entirely beneath their exalted status.

The elites were meant to represent the academy itself: a symbol of refinement, of superiority, and of unyielding excellence.

The idea of one of their top students seen in the company of commoners or riding on dusty, overcrowded wagons would have been scandalous.

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