"Come in," Lucas replied flatly.

The door opened.

It was Liona, carrying a dinner tray.

Warm soup. Bread. Neatly arranged.

But her expression… was different.

Usually she would lower her head, awkward, faintly trembling.

Now? Blank. Cold.

Liona stepped inside without ceremony, closed the door behind her, and placed the tray on the small table.

"Eat," she said tersely.

Her voice was sharp… unfamiliar.

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"What's with that look?"

Liona did not smile.

"You have gone too far today," she said coldly. "You dared to speak to the Baroness with insolence. You are not her real son—your actions are beyond anything I can forgive."

Lucas clicked his tongue quietly.

"Damn it… this loyalty is absurd," he muttered.

"Oh, so now I'm wrong just because I didn't obey blindly?" he shot back.

Liona glared at him.

"Your place is not to question. Your duty is to obey."

Lucas rose from the bed.

"And my duty is to live better—not just nod along like a puppet."

Liona exhaled.

Then—

A black dagger manifested from empty air beside her hand, as though drawn from nothingness itself.

Lucas gave a crooked grin.

"Heh. A soulbound weapon?"

"Yes," Liona answered curtly.

The tip of the dagger lifted slightly.

"And this is your warning. Should you cause the Baroness any further suffering… you will learn the price."

Lucas smirked.

"Go on. Do it."

He stepped forward.

"I'm not afraid."

Liona stiffened.

"You think this is a joke?!" her voice rose. "She wept because of you! She spent the evening in anguish because of your behavior!"

Lucas let out a long breath.

"Listen here, dumbass," he snapped. "I'm not doing this for pride or fun. I'm fixing this family's debt. You think I enjoy causing chaos?"

His eyes narrowed.

"What do you even know about any of this?"

He pointed to his chest.

"You want to threaten me? Fine. But remember—this is still your young master standing here. Touch me, and you'll only make things worse."

Liona ground her teeth.

Lucas continued, his voice turning icy.

"I don't care if it's loyalty or whatever you call it. I know what I'm doing. And you—cleaning dust all day—what the hell do you even kno—"

He stopped.

…Damn it. I crossed the line.

A translucent blue window appeared before his eyes.

[HHMMM… (￣ー￣)

You still haven't fully adapted to your new impulses~]

Silence filled the room.

The dagger in Liona's hand trembled slightly.

Her eyes glimmered… but she forced herself to hold back.

A few seconds later, the dagger dissolved into thin air.

"Eat," she said again.

Flat. Empty.

She turned and took the doorknob.

"If the Baroness is ever harmed," she said without looking back,

"I will not forgive you."

The door closed.

Her footsteps faded down the corridor.

Lucas stood there for several seconds.

Silence.

Then he dropped back onto the bed.

"Damn it…"

The system chimed in.

[Hoho~ tough on the outside, soft on the inside (≧▽≦)]

"Shut up."

Lucas stared at the food.

No appetite.

He turned his head toward the ceiling.

"No one really trusts me at all…"

---

Morning arrived in silence.

Lucas stood outside, preparing to leave for the fields with Silvara.

Silvara looked unusually gloomy that day. Her complexion was pale, her steps slower than usual, and she barely spoke.

Just as they were about to depart—

"Lucian."

They stopped.

The Baroness stood behind them.

Lucas turned.

She stepped forward and placed a small pouch of coins into his hand.

"For today… I shall grant you more," she said with a gentle smile.

Then she paused.

"…And I owe you an apology for yesterday."

Lucas stiffened.

The Baroness lowered her gaze for a brief moment.

"I will strive to place my faith in you. Not as a ruler… but as your mother."

Something in Lucas' chest loosened.

He gave a small smile.

"Mother need not worry," he said softly.

He turned and walked away.

Silvara bent her knee and bowed respectfully.

"Please excuse us, My Lady."

Then she followed Lucas.

The Baroness remained where she stood, watching her son's back grow distant.

She smiled.

I believe in you.

Truly… I believe you.

Her fingers curled slowly into her palm.

She lowered her head.

Then murmured—

"If you should fail…"

"Then I shall give my life… so that you may live on."

---

Lucas and Silvara arrived at the fields not long after.

Geralt was already there with Anya.

Lucas gave a short nod.

"Morning."

"Morning, Young Master," Geralt replied.

As usual, Lucas immediately turned to Silvara.

"Refill the Loticentra's mana and place it in the middle of the field like yesterday."

Lucas summoned the Loticentra into his hand.

Silvara gave a brief nod and left without a word. She placed it in the center of the field, then returned.

After the watering was done, Lucas dismissed the Loticentra from afar.

Then Lucas turned to Geralt.

"Old man, clean things up a bit. And clear the ditch that's protecting the tomato field."

"Yes, Young Master," Geralt replied.

Anya tugged at the edge of Silvara's clothes, hesitantly.

"Miss Silvara… will you teach me again today?"

Silvara paused for a moment.

Then nodded.

Lucas watched them.

Then he said—

"Train me."

Silvara did not respond right away.

Her face was still cold.

"…You're asking for that now?" she said shortly.

Lucas met her eyes.

"Yes."

Silvara looked away for a moment.

Her jaw tightened.

"Fine," she said at last.

She turned back to him.

"If you want me to train you… run one hundred laps around this tomato field."

Anya's eyes went wide.

"…Wow."

She clenched her small fists.

The evil face is getting trained… I can't lose… I have to conquer all the letters quickly!

Lucas let out a sigh.

"…Isn't there another way?"

Silvara's gaze hardened.

"Do it. Or Don't."

Lucas exhaled again.

"…Alright."

He took a step back.

Then started running around the tomato field.

One lap…

Two…

Three…

Silvara watched him in silence.

Her brows slowly knit together.

What kind of foolish soul lives inside that body…?

Her hand shifted slightly toward the hilt of her sword.

Why is he this reckless…?

Her eyes followed Lucas as he kept running.

If he fails…

Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

Almost unconsciously.

She whispered under her breath—

"If he falls…"

"…I might become a fugitive for protecting him."

The maid, the mother, the knight—none of them believed in a man with a hoe,

even though the "dirty" hoe in their eyes was, in truth, the Great Hoe.

---

By the time Lucas reached his tenth lap—

his breathing was already heavy.

His chest burned.

Sweat soaked through the back of his shirt.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

His vision wavered for a split second.

Then—

[Ding!]

.....

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