Healer Mae moved on reflex.

She stepped forward quickly, placing herself squarely between Lucas and Lina, her body leaning ahead—clearly shielding the girl.

"Y-Young Master," Mae said tensely, one hand lifting halfway as if to stop him.

Lucas halted.

He stared at Mae's back for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.

Tch, he muttered. Here we go again. Drama.

Behind Mae, Lina finally moved.

Her steps were unsteady as she came forward. Her hands shook violently as she bowed—far too deeply for someone so small.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out, her voice trembling. "I sincerely apologize to Young Master… and Lady Silvara!"

She lifted her head slightly. Her eyes were red, wet.

"I… I really need that medicine," she continued, gasping. "My grandmother is sick. If she doesn't… if she doesn't take it—"

Her body shook even harder.

Lina looked straight at Lucas.

Fear filled her eyes—the fear of someone powerless, already prepared to accept whatever punishment came.

She closed her eyes.

Her jaw tightened.

Ready to be slapped.

Lucas cleared his throat.

"Alright."

Just one word.

Lina flinched, her eyes snapping open.

"H-huh?"

She instinctively opened her mouth to speak again—

"Hey." Lucas's voice turned sharp. "Quiet. Shut your mouth."

Lina froze.

Lucas shifted his gaze to Mae. "Healer Mae. How much does that potion cost?"

Lina stiffened.

A single thought surfaced in her mind.

He's addicted to that poison…

Her face turned even paler.

Silvara, who had been silent until now, stepped forward half a pace.

"Lina," she said calmly, but firmly.

She looked straight at the girl.

"Young Master isn't asking for a random potion," Silvara continued. "He's going to duel Aldric. That potion is meant to temporarily strengthen his body."

Lina went silent, her thoughts grinding to a halt.

"…A d-duel?" Aldric's words echoed in her mind—along with Mae's earlier warning not to get involved in their rotten conflict.

Lucas waited for the price.

Mae swallowed hard.

"E-erm… the cost…" Her fingers clasped together. "S-six coins."

Lucas immediately reached into his pocket.

Before the coins came out—

A hand tapped his shoulder.

Silvara.

She stared at Mae sharply. "Why are you inflating the price?"

Mae jolted. "I-I—!"

Lucas stopped.

He fell silent.

Then—his gaze slowly swept across the clinic.

Herb jars on the shelves—many nearly empty.

Potion bottles—only a few left.

And in the corner—a young assistant standing awkwardly, clearly exhausted.

Lucas understood.

He withdrew his hand and looked up.

His expression turned cold.

"Fine," he said flatly. "I'll pay six coins."

Mae froze.

"But in exchange," Lucas continued, "one day, if I call you to the fields—you'll come."

He glanced sideways.

"And you," he added, looking at Lina. "You're coming too."

Mae and Lina both stiffened.

Then, after a brief pause—both nodded quickly. They didn't dare ask.

Lucas tossed six coins onto the table.

"Is the potion ready?"

Mae shook her head nervously. "N-not yet. It needs a few days to ferment."

Lucas nodded casually. "Alright."

Mae took a breath and explained quickly, as if to make sure.

"As requested… this potion will push physical strength to its absolute limit. Slightly beyond it."

She swallowed.

"The effect lasts about twenty minutes. The side effects… will only be felt a day later."

"Okay," Lucas replied shortly.

He turned around. "Let's go, Silvara."

Silvara nodded and followed.

The clinic door closed slowly behind them.

Lina finally dared to speak.

"Miss Mae…" she said softly. "Didn't you say before… that we should never get involved in their conflict?"

Mae looked down at the coins in her hand.

Her fingers slowly closed around them, as if to make sure they were real.

"…Yes," she replied quietly. "I did say that."

She let out a long breath.

"But… I was never able to run away from it in the first place."

Lina lowered her head slightly, waiting.

Mae continued, her voice flat but heavy.

"This is also my fault. Back then… I judged Young Master too quickly."

Lina remained silent.

"…About that accusation," Mae went on. "About the filthy thing. About… the..." She sighed, lowered her head.

Lina's face stiffened. She remembered—the moment of judgment. The butt bandit incident.

Mae gave a bitter smile. "You know? In a way, I'm still lucky."

She looked toward the now-closed door.

"If Young Master had chosen to report it to the Central Cathedral back then," she said slowly, "I could've been reassigned. To another village… or even to a battlefield."

Lina clenched her fists in front of her chest.

She bowed her head deeper. "…I understand."

Silence followed.

Then Lina lifted her head again, hesitating.

"But… Young Master usually curses people a lot," Lina said softly.

"Even over trivial things. But just now… he didn't.

He didn't even spit on me... even though I made such a terrible mistake…"

She hesitated.

"…Did he forget?"

Mae let out a slow breath.

She rolled a coin across her palm.

"…This is just an assumption," she said at last. "But for some reason… I'm very sure of it. I even prayed to the saints."

Lina looked at her. "What do you mean, Miss Mae?"

Mae turned to her, lowering her voice.

"Maybe… that stimulant poison you gave to Young Master and Lady Silvara back then—"

Lina froze.

"—led to something unexpected," Mae continued. "Maybe… Young Master fell in love."

"M—!"

Lina's mouth fell open.

Mae sighed.

"You saw him earlier, didn't you?" she said. "He looked… a little strange."

Lina nodded quickly.

"Maybe he's trying to get Lady Silvara's attention," Mae went on. "Or trying to look good… in Lady Silvara's eyes."

Lina's eyes lit up.

"Lady Silvara really is amazing!" she blurted out. "Beautiful, strong, decisive—even a man as bad as him could—"

She stopped herself, then blushed.

"…I-I mean, it's still a bit shocking if they really end up… like that."

Mae chuckled softly.

"Who wouldn't be?" she said. "Her beauty, her firmness… it's only natural for any man to change."

They fell silent for a moment—but this time, not in tension.

Their thoughts circled around the same thing.

Silvara.

How strong she was.

How decisive she was.

How reasonable it was for all of this to happen because of her.

Lina frowned.

"But… if that's the case, why did Young Master call us to the fields?"

Mae thought for a moment.

"Maybe… to help with the harvest," she answered at last.

"R-really…? Are you sure he… he—" Lina hesitated.

Mae gave a faint smile.

"Don't worry. As long as Lady Silvara is around, he won't do anything indecent."

She looked at the coins in her hand once more.

"Just look at earlier," she added. "He didn't even spit at us, did he?"

Lina smiled faintly.

She lowered her head.

That afternoon passed slowly.

And that afternoon bore witness—

that a man's attempt to do a good deed…

was still seen as nothing more than cheap cosmetic effort to seek attention.

---

The walk back to the manor was quiet.

Lucas walked ahead, his hands in his pockets.

Silvara followed half a step behind, her expression unreadable.

The manor gates came into view.

And waiting there—

Liona.

She stood straight near the entrance, hands folded in front of her apron. The moment she saw Lucas, she took a step forward.

"Luc—" she began, then stopped herself.

She cleared her throat.

"…Young Master," Liona corrected, her tone stiff. "The Baron and the Baroness are waiting for you. In the Baron's study."

Lucas stopped.

He let out a slow breath.

"…What now?" he muttered.

Silvara glanced at him. "Trouble?"

"Feels like it," Lucas replied flatly.

They headed inside.

—

The Baron's study was exactly as Lucas remembered—dark wood, heavy shelves, the faint scent of ink and parchment.

The Baroness was already there.

She stood near the window, arms crossed.

The Baron sat behind the desk.

The moment Lucas stepped in, the Baroness raised a hand.

"Silvara," she said calmly. "Wait outside."

Silvara stiffened.

"My Lady—"

"That's an order."

Silvara lowered her head. "…Yes."

She stepped out and closed the door behind her.

The room fell silent.

Lucas sat down across from the desk without being told.

The Baron leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers interlocked.

"Son," he said, his voice low and steady.

"Listen here..."

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