Schlup. Gulp. Slurp.

The sounds of eating filled the dining area like a symphony of starvation.

The young man sat hunched over the table, both hands gripping a bowl of greenish porridge as if it were the last meal on earth.

His face was practically buried in it, lips smacking wetly as he shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth with desperate speed.

"What a bullshit..." Viktor leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his bandaged chest, watching with an expression somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

His dark eyes tracked every movement—the way those delicate fingers gripped the spoon, the slight tremble in the young man's shoulders, the dirt smudged intentionally across an otherwise too-soft face.

"Mm—hah—mm—" The young man barely paused to breathe between bites, swallowing hard before diving back in.

Bowl after bowl of greenish porridge disappeared down his throat. Bread vanished in massive bites that barely left time for chewing. Water splashed as he gulped it down between mouthfuls, some of it dribbling down his chin.

The sounds were obscene—slurping, gulping, gasping for air between bites.

Everyone watched in varying states of shock.

Helena's eyebrows had climbed so high they'd nearly disappeared into her hairline. 'When was the last time this person ate?'

Mira's maternal instincts warred with her caution. 'Poor thing... but who is he?'

Bella's tail swished nervously behind her, her ears twitching with every loud gulp.

Kaida sat with her arms folded across her chest, her green eye narrowed as she observed every detail with the precision of someone trained to notice things others missed.

Viktor just watched, his expression calm, almost bored. But his eyes were sharp.

Toby, sitting beside Viktor with his own bowl of porridge, tilted his head as he watched the young man inhale another bowl. His young face scrunched up in confusion before he turned to Mira.

"Mama," Toby said loudly, his voice cutting through the sound of desperate eating. "He is eating like a pig."

The room froze.

Mira's hand shot out instantly, clamping over Toby's mouth with enough force to make him squeak.

"Shut up, Toby!" Mira hissed, her face flushing with embarrassment. "You don't talk like that to guests!"

Her eyes darted toward the young man, who hadn't even paused in his eating, too focused on shoving food into his mouth to register the comment.

Viktor's lips twitched, fighting back a chuckle. He reached over and ruffled Toby's hair. "Little warrior needs to learn manners, huh?"

Toby mumbled something incomprehensible behind Mira's hand, his eyes wide.

Kaida hadn't moved.

Her arms remained folded, her gaze fixed on the young man with laser focus. While everyone else was distracted by the spectacle of someone eating like they had been starved for weeks, Kaida was cataloging details.

'Soft skin. Too soft for manual labor.'

Her eye traced the line of the young man's jawbone—delicate, almost feminine despite the dirt smudged across it.

'Petite build. Small hands.'

Then her gaze dropped lower, catching the slight bulge beneath the young man's shirt near the chest area. It was subtle, hidden beneath the loose fabric and layers of dirt, but it was there.

'That's not muscle.'

Her eye flicked to the badge pinned crookedly to the young man's collar—a merchant guild symbol, tarnished but unmistakable.

And then she saw it.

Just barely visible beneath the collar of the shirt, peeking out from beneath the grime—a small rose tattoo on the side of the neck.

Kaida's breath caught.

'No fucking way.'

Her mind raced back, pulling up memories she'd tried to bury. The Vance family case. A merchant family brutally murdered in their estate. The entire household slaughtered—father, mother, servants.

The heir, a young man barely out of his teens, had been the primary suspect. Too convenient. Too clean.

Kaida had been assigned to investigate. She had dug deep, uncovered inconsistencies, and found evidence pointing toward a conspiracy involving multiple parties.

The capital had been involved—she was sure of it. Strings pulled from higher up the chain, pressure applied from sources she couldn't touch.

And then she had been ordered to drop it. Cease investigation. Move on.

The daughter—Elara Vance—had disappeared the night of the murders. Fled before anyone could question her. No body found. Presumed dead or complicit.

Kaida's jaw tightened as she stared at the young man—no, the young woman—sitting at the table, inhaling food like her life depended on it.

'Elara Vance.'

The hair was dyed. The eyes were different—colored lenses or some kind of herbal treatment, maybe. The clothes were those of a poor traveler, not a merchant's daughter.

But that face... that unmistakable face, even beneath the grime and exhaustion...

And that rose tattoo. The Vance family mark.

'What the hell is she doing here?'

Kaida's fingers tightened around her own arms, her knuckles going white.

She should have acted. Should have pulled her dagger and demanded answers. Should have confronted this woman who had fled from a murder scene and shown up in their crumbling manor like some kind of ghost.

But she didn't.

Because of the merchant guild badge.

Kaida wasn't stupid. That badge meant protection. Meant connections. Meant that if she acted rashly, she could drag Mira and everyone else into a shitstorm they weren't prepared to handle.

'Damn it.'

So she sat there, silent, watching as Elara Vance stuffed her face with Viktor's cooking.

Elara was halfway through her sixth bowl as she barely registered Viktor's presence, too focused on shoveling another spoonful into her mouth.

Viktor tilted his head, studying her.

'That tattoo... is he really what I think he is?', Viktor seemed to have developed some suspicion, especially when he saw this guy entering the room for the first time. Barging in, he instantly recognized that face.

Even if the hair color and eye color had changed, he knew that face too well to mistake it for someone else.

He had seen her portrait so many times because servants and others frequently came to him requesting to search for their so-called runaway lady, who was rumored to be alive after escaping her marriage.

A runaway bride who lost her family at the hands of her brother—at least that's what the surface story looked like to him at that time.

Then, without warning, he leaned down slightly.

"You know," Viktor said casually, his tone almost conversational, "you seem pretty thin for a guy."

Elara froze mid-chew, her eyes flicking up toward him.

Before she could react, Viktor reached out and poked her chest with his finger—right at the bulge beneath her shirt.

"I see," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "So you do work out after all."

She took too big of a bite, tried to swallow too fast, and immediately started choking.

"Koff—kaff—ghhk—!"

Her hands flew to her throat, her eyes watering as she coughed violently, her whole body jerking forward.

Viktor moved.

He was up from his chair before anyone else could react, grabbing the clay cup of water from the table and pressing it into Elara's trembling hands.

"Easy," Viktor said, his voice calm, almost gentle. "Breathe first. Then drink."

Elara's wide eyes—desperate, terrified—locked onto his face.

She took the cup with shaking hands and gulped down the water, coughing between swallows until finally, finally, her airway cleared.

She slumped forward, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her dirt-smudged face.

"Thank... thank you..." she rasped.

Viktor just nodded, stepping back to his seat like it was nothing.

But everyone else at the table was staring.

Helena blinked, her mouth slightly open. 'Master is very compassionate.'

Kaida's eye narrowed even further as she became aware that the perverted bastard had two sides like a coin. 'He knows something.'

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