Elara rested her chin lightly on her hand, watching Luca as he leaned back in his chair, his relaxed posture somehow managing to command attention even in this quiet setting. She could still hear the soft crash of the waves outside, a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
“You really are particular, Mister Luca,” she said, her tone teasing but tinged with curiosity. “Everyone’s eyes were on you when you were getting your haul earlier. It was… hard not to notice.”
Luca’s smirk widened as he tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Luca.”
“Hmm?” Elara raised an eyebrow.
“Call me Luca,” he repeated, his voice soft yet firm, the playful edge never quite leaving his tone.
Elara hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Luca.” The name felt oddly familiar on her tongue, as if they’d known each other far longer than they had. “And you…” She paused, her lips twitching faintly. “You may also call me Elara.”
Luca’s smirk softened into something almost genuine, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as his gaze met hers. “Elara,” he said slowly, as though testing the weight of her name. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
Elara’s cheeks warmed, though she quickly masked her reaction with a roll of her eyes. “You really are something else, aren’t you?” she muttered, shaking her head slightly. “Do you practice flattering people, or does it just come naturally?”
“It’s a gift,” Luca said with mock seriousness, placing a hand over his chest. “Though I’ll admit, it’s easier when the subject is worth complimenting.”
She couldn’t help but laugh softly, her earlier frustrations melting away in the face of his relentless charm. “You must have quite a bit of practice then.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Luca quipped, his grin returning full force.
“…..”
Elara sighed, her smile lingering despite herself. “You know, if you weren’t so insufferable, you might actually be likable.”
Luca chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m plenty likable. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
“Hmm,” Elara mused, her tone skeptical but playful. “We’ll see about that.”
The conversation flowed easily, the tension of the day fading as they continued to banter. Despite herself, Elara found that she didn’t mind Luca’s company. He was infuriating, yes, but there was something undeniably… disarming about him.
And for the first time in a long while, she let herself relax.
*****
As the soup arrived at the table, its golden broth shimmered under the warm light, and the aromatic scent of rare fish and delicate herbs wafted through the air. The dish, a delicacy from the remote seas, was an indulgent start to the meal. Luca raised an eyebrow as the server placed the bowls before them.
“High-end, indeed,” he murmured, picking up his spoon with deliberate grace. The cat on his shoulder twitched its nose at the savory aroma, but Luca gently waved it away with a flick of his finger. “No, none for you. Even you don’t deserve to outshine this masterpiece.”
Elara rolled her eyes, already stirring her soup. “Do you ever not monologue over food?”
“Rarely,” Luca replied, his smirk intact as he took a sip. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the blend of flavors. “Ah, perfection.”
They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, the quiet broken only by the soft clink of spoons against the bowls. The warm, rich broth seemed to soothe the tension of the day, if only for a moment.
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Then came a voice, low and smooth, reverberating inside Luca’s head. [How did you know she was here?]
Lucavion didn’t flinch, his spoon pausing briefly before resuming its motion. ‘I didn’t,’ he replied inwardly, his tone conversational, though his mental voice carried an edge of amusement.
‘I simply wanted to relax,’ he replied with an air of nonchalance. ‘Remember, we made quite a bit of money today. I thought I deserved a bit of indulgence.’
[It doesn’t feel like it,] Vitaliara quipped, her tone soft but pointed. [Your “relaxation” feels suspiciously like scheming.]
Lucavion shrugged slightly, his expression unreadable. ‘If you call existing a scheme, then yes, I’m guilty.’
Across from him, Elara took another spoonful of soup, her posture softening as she savored the delicate balance of flavors. The warmth of the broth seemed to erase the tension she carried, even if only momentarily. Her lips parted slightly as she mumbled, “This is so good…”
Her eyes half-closed in bliss, a small trail of broth lingered at the corner of her lips. She quickly swiped it away, but the unabashed delight in her expression was unmistakable.
Lucavion’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer, almost unguarded. ‘She really eats like Master…’ The thought surfaced unbidden, and his chest tightened with a bittersweet ache. Whether it was her enthusiasm, her unfiltered appreciation for something so simple, or the fleeting resemblance in her demeanor, the memory of Gerald was suddenly vivid in his mind.
Perhaps it was just a reminiscence… Or perhaps it was something deeper. His Master’s presence had been unshakable, and now, in moments like these, Elara’s existence seemed to echo it.
But he allowed none of this to show. Neither Vitaliara nor Elara needed to know the thoughts that danced just beneath the surface. Instead, Lucavion smirked to himself and pushed the thought away, tucking it into the recesses of his mind where it would remain untouched.
“You’re practically drooling, Frost Mage,” Luca teased lightly, slipping seamlessly into his outward persona.
Elara froze, glaring at him as a faint flush colored her cheeks. “I am not!” she shot back, though her tone lacked the bite it usually carried.
“Right,” Luca replied, his smirk growing. He leaned back in his chair, spoon spinning idly in his fingers. “You look like someone who’s just tasted enlightenment.”
Elara scoffed, her expression falling into one of mock disdain, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “I can’t help it if good food makes me happy.”
Lucavion inclined his head slightly, his smirk softening as he echoed her sentiment. “Indeed… A good meal is important. It reminds us of simpler pleasures. Balance, even amidst chaos.”
Elara brightened at his words, her posture relaxing as she chirped, “Right, right! That’s exactly how it should be!” Without hesitation, she resumed her meal with renewed enthusiasm, the warm soup vanishing rapidly under her spoon.
As Lucavion watched her, his usual smirk faded into a thoughtful expression. There she was—the supposed main character of this tangled story, someone whose life was inevitably entwined with his own. Her path, as he knew it, was riddled with thorns, her destiny an unrelenting storm she had yet to weather.
And yet… watching her now, cheeks puffed slightly as she ate with such unguarded eagerness, she seemed almost untouched by the weight of it all. Fierce? He thought of how she’d been described in the novel. Perhaps. But right now, she’s nothing short of enthusiastic. Innocent, even.
The contrast was striking. The poised frost mage, the future heir to a crumbling legacy, reduced to someone who found such unfiltered joy in a simple meal. The dissonance struck a chord in him, a flicker of something unspoken curling in his chest.
His gaze drifted, unbidden, into the recesses of his own memory, where ghosts of the past stirred. A memory clawed its way to the forefront: the rigid halls of the Duke’s estate, its cold grandeur swallowing all but the echoes of disciplined steps. If you were still in the Duke’s house, would you be this expressive?
The question lodged itself in his mind, sharp as a blade. He had seen her before, even in those brief moments when their paths had crossed years ago. Back then, she had been a perfect heir—rigid, disciplined, bound by the weight of expectation. Every action measured, every word deliberate. There had been no space for expressions like this, no room for the genuine, unguarded joy that now flickered across her features.
Is this who you really are, Elara? Or is this just the version of you freed from their shadow? He wondered silently, his chest tightening with something that wasn’t quite sadness, but close enough to sting.
He blinked, snapping himself out of the haze of reminiscence. His gaze settled on her again, and she caught his eye briefly, tilting her head curiously. “What?” she asked, pausing mid-bite.
Luca’s smirk reappeared instantly, the practiced mask sliding into place. “Nothing. Just wondering if I should order more at this rate. You’re devouring that like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”
Elara scowled, though the faint blush returned to her cheeks. “I’m savoring it,” she corrected indignantly. “There’s a difference.”
“Of course there is,” Luca teased lightly, leaning back in his chair. “Please, continue. It’s a performance worth every coin.”
She rolled her eyes but returned to her meal with a huff. Lucavion’s smirk lingered, though his thoughts remained rooted in the past, the edges of his mind tinged with a quiet unease he refused to show.