Lucas swallowed hard.

"Even the underwear?"

Silvara sighed softly. She nodded once, cheeks tinged with the slightest pink.

"…Yes," she said flatly. "It's nothing. I'm not some innocent girl who's never seen a man's body." Her words had a sharp edge, like she was daring him to make a fuss.

Lucas kept staring, body stiff.

"What's with that face?" she asked, voice dry. "Afraid I'll faint at the sight of your little thing? Calm down, honorable lord—I've patched up worse on the battlefield. This is child's play."

But the memory hit her again: the other maids had backed away, refusing to touch him, so she'd stepped up. When she saw his limp cock—utterly spent—her mind had whispered, Even this is exhausted… he really fought with everything in that duel. She'd stared too long.

Gulp…

She'd swallowed, then pinched it gently, thinking, It won't harden now, will it? The moment was still vivid, burning in her thoughts.

Meanwhile Lucas stayed frozen, eyebrow twitching.

Little thing…? The words stung on reflex. Heat rushed to his face before he could stop it.

Silvara ignored his reaction completely. She set the tray on the small table. Among the wet towels was one dry one, folded neatly and tucked away.

She unbuckled the light armor on her arms—the metal clinked quietly. Then she rolled up her sleeves to the elbows and tied her hair back in one quick motion.

Lucas watched without realizing.

Beautiful.

No denying it.

But her attitude?

He let out a short breath and looked away.

"Hurry," Silvara said. "Take off the coat. Then turn around."

Her tone wasn't bossy—just the practical sound of someone who'd tended too many wounds.

Lucas hesitated a split second, then obeyed. No energy for arguing. His skin was sticky, bandages heavy and itchy.

The coat came off. He turned his back.

---

Meanwhile, in the kitchen—

Liona hummed softly while sweeping. Her movements light, face bright. One thought kept replaying happily.

That horse… The Huzz…

A high-class steed. She'd even touched him.

"Such a good day to be alive," she murmured.

An older maid glanced over, then came closer.

"You're not worried about Lady Silvara?" she asked quietly.

Liona stopped sweeping. "Worried? Why?"

The maid lowered her voice. "She took the wet towels herself. Went into the Young Master's room. She's protecting us again… so we don't have to get dirtied by it."

Liona went quiet.

Then a small smile tugged at her lips.

Dirtied?

In her heart, she thought the exact opposite.

Lady Silvara… was getting bolder.

She knew it perfectly: the Young Master wasn't the old Lucian Voss anymore. A different soul was in there now. A man from another world. Much… safer.

She wasn't worried at all.

In fact, her mind jumped ahead.

Tonight… Lady Silvara might come to my room again.

She held back a laugh, shoulders shaking a bit as she went back to sweeping.

---

Lucas sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, his back facing Silvara. His body still felt sticky with dried blood and sweat, but at least he was no longer standing there like a statue. He drew a slow breath, trying to ignore the itch beneath the bandages.

Silvara stood behind him, leaning forward slightly to see more clearly. Her trained fingers began undoing the bandages on Lucas's shoulder—slowly, carefully, as if afraid of touching skin that was still sensitive. The first bandage came off, revealing a bluish-purple bruise stretching from his shoulder down to his chest. Silvara let out a small breath, almost inaudible.

As she bent lower to loosen the bandage across his chest, the metal of her chest armor—cold and polished—brushed against Lucas's back. Just for a moment, but it was enough to make him tense.

This is… damn, he thought, nearly laughing to himself. In anime, it'd be soft, warm, heart-racing. This? Cold metal. Like being hugged by a golem's armor. Reality really is cruel.

He suppressed a smile, not wanting Silvara to notice. Meanwhile, Silvara subtly inhaled. Lucas's scent—a mix of blood, sweat, and something faintly masculine—still clung to him. This body belonged to Lucian Voss, a man she once hated to the bone. But now… the soul inside it was different.

The final bandage around his abdomen came off. Silvara took a damp towel from the tray and began wiping the dried blood from Lucas's skin. Her movements were efficient, but there was a slight hesitation when her hand touched his warm skin.

Lucas felt incredibly awkward. Staying silent like this felt louder than speaking. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low.

"Silvara… about the Voss family. I'm still curious. The Baron and Baroness were incredibly strong when they fought the bandits yesterday. Their movements… like people trained for decades. So why are we poor nobles stuck on the frontier like this? What happened?"

Silvara paused, the towel still pressed against Lucas's chest. Then she resumed wiping, her voice flat but edged with bitterness.

"I don't know the full story either. The Baron never explained it in detail. But… Lucian Voss played a major role in this poverty."

Lucas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In the past, the Baron often had to pay compensation. Property damage, injuries—small things that should have been avoidable. And at the academy… Lucian was frequently fined. A lot. Extremely often."

Lucas immediately recalled what he had heard before—Lucian Voss being expelled from the academy for bullying a commoner girl. A girl who was now an Arch Mage and a titled noble. He swallowed.

"How bad was it?" he asked quietly. "What did Lucian do to that girl at the academy?"

Silvara moved to the side, now wiping Lucas's underarm. The sudden motion made Lucas flinch slightly—but he quickly steadied himself, pretending to be relaxed.

Silvara didn't answer right away. She wiped gently, almost too carefully. Finally, she spoke, her voice low.

"Lucian… humiliated her in front of everyone. Not just with words. He and his friends did things that were… cruel. So cruel that she lost the sight in her left eye. Permanently."

Lucas fell silent.

Silvara continued wiping, her hand moving to his back now. "That's one of the reasons the Baron and Baroness lost many allies among the nobility."

Lucas nodded slowly. "I understand." He stared ahead. But there might be other causes as well, he thought.

Lucas's back was finally cleaned. Silvara placed the damp towel—now stained with blood and sweat—onto the tray with a slow motion, almost as if she did not want to make any sound. She took another towel, still wet, and drew a short breath.

"Turn around," she said. Her voice remained flat, but there was a firmer edge to it now.

Lucas nodded without much comment. He rotated his body slowly, now sitting face-to-face with Silvara. His legs were still crossed, his hands resting on his knees. Their eyes met—Lucas's slightly tired gaze meeting Silvara's sharp one, though hers quickly drifted aside.

Silvara frowned faintly. "Cover your face with your coat."

Lucas blinked.

Silvara pointed at his chin with her own. "Hurry up and cover your face. I don't want to see it."

Lucas gave a thin grin, feigning offense. "This face? You mean this face is bothering you?" As he spoke, he grabbed the coat he had taken off earlier and pulled it over his head—like an improvised hoodie, covering the top of his head and part of his face. "Oh, so this face makes you uncomfortable. But my real face is fine, huh?"

Silvara snorted softly, though the corner of her lips lifted—almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. Your face… is better."

Lucas grinned wider beneath the coat. Better? he laughed to himself.

Silvara began wiping the front of his body. She leaned down slightly, focusing on the injury beneath Lucas's chest—a large bruise stretching from his collarbone down to his upper abdomen. The damp towel touched gently at the top of the bruise, wiping away the dried blood still clinging there.

She did not realize that she was wiping just below his nipple, the wet fabric brushing against it, making it harden from the cold. Silvara's thoughts had already drifted back to the duel earlier. He really had fought with everything he had. This body was covered in wounds. Without realizing it, she wondered, Was he like this in his original world too? Someone who worked this hard? Who always pushed himself to the limit?

Lucas suddenly let out a small breath. "Ah…"

Silvara immediately looked up, her eyes narrowing. "What was that? Don't make weird noises."

Lucas hurriedly raised his hands—still half-covered by the coat over his head. "Th-that's… my nipp—pleungh!"

She clicked her tongue and looked away, a faint heat creeping up her ears. "It was an accident," she said sharply, tone clipped and defensive. "Don't get the wrong idea." Her grip on the towel tightened for a moment before she resumed.

Silvara continued wiping his front, eyes fixed on the bruises instead of his face. She worked methodically down his torso, careful around the worst of the discoloration, her touch controlled despite the lingering awkwardness. "Stay still," she added coolly. "I'm not done yet."

Silvara finished the upper part. She placed the towel aside. Lucas exhaled, shoulders loosening, convinced it was over.

Then—

"Now," Silvara said flatly, not looking at his face, "open your pants."

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