Ravena let out a soft breath.

For a moment, her expression looked as if it might crack—then it didn't.

Instead, she laughed again.

Light. Elegant. Perfectly controlled.

A kind of laughter far more suited to echoing through a cathedral hall than a muddy tomato field.

"Oh my," she said gently. "Young Master certainly has a… unique sense of humor."

Lucas clicked his tongue inwardly.

That laugh.

It made his skin crawl—annoying, irritating. Too artificial. Not friendly—just grating.

"Enough," he said shortly. "What do you want?"

The shift was abrupt.

Ravena's laughter stopped instantly.

No pleasantries. No drama.

She straightened her posture, her gaze sharpening.

"Very well," she said calmly. "I'll get straight to the point."

She stepped forward once—not threatening, but pressing.

"I wish to propose a cooperation."

Lucas gave no response.

Ravena continued, her tone now purely professional.

"I am interested in making the tomato harvest from Voss territory a permanent supply for the Central Cathedral."

Silvara narrowed her eyes slightly.

Ravena raised one finger.

"In return," she said, "the authority of the Central Cathedral can encourage the Kingdom to pour development funds into Voss territory."

Lucas remained impassive.

Ravena raised a second finger.

"We can also help the Voss family gain greater attention and recognition from the Empire. Access. Visibility. Opportunities."

She smiled faintly.

"Things a fading border territory clearly needs."

Lucas fell silent for a moment.

It sounded good.

Too good.

But that alone was not enough to make him nod.

"No."

Ravena blinked.

Just once.

"…No?" she repeated.

Lucas shrugged.

"I'm already bound by a contract."

Her eyes widened—genuine, without any act.

"…What?"

Lucas looked away, his tone casual.

"I've already signed an agreement with a man from the Merchants' Guild."

Ravena's thoughts raced.

A contract? Already?

With harvest quality like this?

Her jaw tightened.

Stupid lad!

This boy truly doesn't understand bargaining power.

She forced her expression back to neutral.

"…May I ask," she said carefully, "with whom was the contract signed?"

Lucas turned back.

"Silas," he replied shortly.

The name was like blowing air onto anger burning inside her mind.

Silas.

So that snake had moved first.

Ravena completely failed to hide her irritation. Her lips clicked softly.

"…I see," she said quietly.

Lucas crossed his arms.

"So yes," he continued flatly. "No matter how good your offer is, it's pointless."

Ravena stared at him for several seconds.

Then—slowly—she smiled again.

Thinner.

Colder.

"…What a pity," she said.

Ravena took a short breath, then lowered her head neatly.

"In that case," she said calmly, her tone returning fully to formal, "I will not trouble you any longer."

Mae also offered her farewell.

Ravena gave a brief nod, then turned away without another word.

The two of them walked off, leaving the field behind.

Their figures gradually receded, until they completely disappeared from view.

Silence fell.

And just like in the very beginning—

Only three people remained in the field.

Silvara let out a long sigh, shaking her head.

"…That mouth of yours," she said shortly. "It's consistently problematic."

Lucas shrugged.

"Efficient," he replied lightly.

On the other side, Liona stood stiffly.

She raised one hand, pressing it against the center of her chest as if trying to calm a heartbeat that had yet to fully settle.

Then, hesitantly, she turned toward Lucas.

"U–um… Lu–Lucas," she said softly.

"In your previous world… did you like teasing women so harsh like before?"

Lucas fell silent for a moment.

He let out a breath.

"No," he answered honestly. "Of course not."

He looked away toward the field.

"I often chose not to deal with women at all," he continued flatly.

The sentence had barely finished—

When Silvara froze.

…Huh?

Not dealing with women?

Her thoughts came to a halt—then locked onto the last four words of that sentence.

Her face heated up.

She reflexively reached for the back of her thigh.

A faint trace—the mark of a man's nails—still lingered beneath the fabric of her pants.

Could it be…

she thought, her fingers slowly brushing over the area,

that I'm the first?

Silvara quickly straightened up, clearing her throat softly.

Lucas turned, puzzled by her reaction.

"What's wrong with you?"

Silvara looked away at once.

"Nothing," she replied shortly, her breath leaving her nose slowly, faintly warm.

"Continue training?" Lucas asked, manifesting the Great Hoe in his grip.

Silvara nodded quickly.

"Yes. Quickly," she replied. "Tsk…"

Lucas frowned.

"Huh?" he said. "What's that for?"

Silvara didn't turn around.

"It's nothing," she answered coldly. "Come on. Don't waste time—we'll be taking a break soon."

They returned to the field beside the tomato garden, while Liona went back to sitting down casually.

A faint light gathered in Silvara's hand.

In an instant—

The claymore appeared.

Lucas raised the Great Hoe.

The rough metal glimmered dully under the sun.

One step forward—

CLANG—

The claymore's blade and the Great Hoe met once more.

The sharp impact echoed through the garden, marking another clash—another kiss between the Great Hoe and the beautifully gleaming great big blade.

—

Meanwhile—

At the Voss residence.

In the back garden.

Matruska still sat facing the Baroness.

The atmosphere was relaxed. There was no tension.

The Baroness smiled faintly.

"Honestly," she said lightly, "I never expected you to reach that level."

She looked at Matruska.

"A knight above Highblade. That's no small achievement."

Matruska smiled faintly.

"You know," she said softly, "if you had never spoken to that quiet girl back then—when she was crying alone—this might never have happened."

Isabelle chuckled.

"That quiet girl, huh? If I had never spoken to her…"

She leaned back slightly.

"Perhaps she'd be doing something interesting right now," she continued.

"And certainly not sitting here having tea with a borderland noble."

Matruska lifted the corner of her lips slightly. Her fingers tightened slightly around her teacup, as if the memory still lingered.

In that brief moment of nostalgia, she recalled something she had only just seen earlier.

Matruska tilted her head.

"…Has the relationship between your son and Silvara improved?" she asked.

The Baroness looked at her, puzzled.

"Improved?" Baroness repeated. "What do you mean?"

Matruska gave a small smile.

"On the way here," she explained calmly, "I happened to see Silvara sparring with him."

She paused for a moment.

"She was smiling," Matruska continued. "A bright, genuine smile—one I have never seen her show before."

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