‘Hah… it really could have gone badly, couldn’t it?’
Lucavion let the thought settle as he walked, his steps light yet measured against the vast marble corridors of the Thaddeus mansion. The place was too big—elegant, refined, built for grandeur rather than comfort. Ornate chandeliers cast their glow over towering stone archways, their cold brilliance making the space feel more like a monument than a home.
‘Then again, I suppose that is befitting of the strongest duchy. This place is even bigger than that one.’
His fingers twitched at the memory, but he brushed it aside, focusing on the now.
He had expected resistance—expected scrutiny, doubt, even outright rejection. The Duke had hesitated, his gaze a steely weight pressing down, searching for the cracks in Lucavion’s intentions. He had seen through the surface, through the words meant to imply rather than state, and yet—he had still agreed.
‘Honor, was it? A nobleman’s sense of duty? Or…’ Lucavion exhaled, rubbing at his temple. ‘Perhaps something else entirely. Thaddeus is no fool. He knew I was maneuvering him into a position where refusal would be more troublesome than acceptance. Yet, despite that, he still took the bait.’
That should have been the end of it. Should have.
But his mind wouldn’t stop picking apart the possibilities.
‘He could have just refused outright. Told me my background was too dubious, that my words were too carefully chosen. He could have ignored the Starlight Mana I revealed—dismissed it as a trick, a cheap display, or something meant to deceive. He could have simply found everything about me too much and abandoned all pretense of honor.’
And yet, none of that had happened.
Instead, the pieces had fallen exactly where he needed them to. Not without obstacles, of course—nothing ever went smoothly, not in a world like this. But most of those had been managed. No, most of those had been thanks to—
“…Little Ember.”
The words left his lips before he fully processed them, a murmur swallowed by the vast emptiness of the hall.
Aeliana.
‘Tsk. I suppose I owe you.’
Lucavion sighed, rolling his shoulders as he pushed forward. It wasn’t an easy admission, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Aeliana had backed him up in a way that no one else in that room could have. Her presence alone had been a calculated advantage—a balancing act between expectation and tension, between loyalty and personal will.
And, in the end, it had worked.
‘Though, really… it’s still a dangerous game to play.’
He let the thought linger but didn’t chase it. There was no need—not yet.
Instead, his focus shifted back to the mansion itself, to the sheer scale of it.
The Strongest Duchy. That was what they called it.
And from what he had seen so far?
‘They do live up to the title.’
As Lucavion walked through the long halls of the Thaddeus mansion, he let his gaze wander, taking in the details around him.
The architecture was—grand, to say the least. Towering columns stretched towards the ceiling, their surfaces adorned with intricate engravings of past victories and noble insignias. The walls, lined with paintings of former Dukes and battlefield scenes, carried a heavy air of history, as if the very foundation of this place had been built on conquest and legacy.
Golden chandeliers hung overhead, their candlelit glow casting warm light over the deep, navy-blue carpets that softened his steps. Suits of armor stood against the walls, their polished steel gleaming under the flickering flames. Some bore the Thaddeus crest—a coiled dragon wreathed in storm clouds—while others had more intricate designs, likely trophies from past wars.
‘It looks kind of cool, not going to lie…’
His fingers traced over the smooth wood of a banister, appreciating the craftsmanship even if he had little knowledge of such things. Perhaps he should commission a mansion like this?
The thought barely lasted a second before he scoffed, shaking his head.
‘Yeah, no. Definitely not my thing.’
Lucavion preferred movement, freedom. A life where he wasn’t bound to one place, one roof, one set of expectations. This kind of mansion, no matter how grand, felt more like a cage than a home.
And, if he was being honest, places like this carried memories he’d rather not entertain.
He exhaled, letting the thought drift away.
“Ahem… Mister Luca.”
A soft voice cut through his musings.
Turning his head, he found himself face-to-face with a young maid, barely past her teenage years. She was petite, her uniform crisp and properly arranged, but her posture gave her away—stiff, uncertain, nervous. Her hands clutched the edges of her apron as if grounding herself, and though she tried to maintain eye contact, the flicker of hesitation was clear.
“I will be escorting you,” she announced, her voice steady but shy.
Lucavion studied her for a second, his smirk growing just slightly.
‘Ah. A fledgling.’
It was obvious. This girl had been sent for the more cumbersome tasks—the kind that required minimal risk and interaction. Likely new to service, possibly intimidated by the grandeur of the house itself, and undoubtedly still finding her footing.
‘Let me teach you the harshness of the world.’
With a slow nod, he agreed, his tone neutral. “Hmm… okay.”
Then, almost as if on instinct, the urge struck him.
A teasing flicker of amusement sparked in his mind, a small grin creeping onto his lips.
How should he go about this?
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, watching the young maid with amused curiosity.
“And your name?” he asked smoothly, his voice carrying an easy charm.
The girl stiffened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected him to ask. For a moment, she hesitated, then finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
“A-Anne, sir. My name is Anne.”
“Anne, huh?” Lucavion repeated, rolling the name on his tongue as if testing its weight. He let his gaze linger on her for a beat longer than necessary, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.
“You know, Anne,” he mused, his voice dipping into something lower, smoother, just enough to make the air between them shift. “I was expecting a guide, but I didn’t realize I’d be escorted by someone quite so—” his eyes flickered over her face, drinking in the way she nervously gripped the hem of her apron, “—adorable.”
Immediately, the poor girl went red.
Lucavion could see the exact moment her mind short-circuited—her eyes widened, her lips parted in shock, and her whole face burned like a freshly ignited ember.
“I—wha—uhm—” Anne stammered, clearly caught off guard, her hands tightening around the fabric she was clutching.
Lucavion chuckled under his breath, pleased with the result. Such a fresh reaction. It was the kind of innocence that didn’t last long in this world, the kind that would eventually be worn down by reality.
And yet, something about it felt… familiar.
His mind flickered back to that time at the inn, back when a certain girl had reacted just as flusteredly to his words.
What was her name again?
‘Ah… Greta?’
Yes. Greta. The girl who had been working at that rundown inn, the one caught in the middle of that whole mess. She had been so skittish back then—practically trembling when he had teased her just like this.
And now?
‘Well. I suppose she’s in a better state now.’
After all, Ragna—the so-called tyrant of that small town—had chosen to redeem himself. With him keeping things in order, the town should have stabilized.
Lucavion exhaled, letting the thought drift. The past had already been settled; there was no need to dwell on it.
For now, he had more immediate entertainment.
He glanced back at Anne, who was still visibly struggling to regain composure, her blush refusing to fade.
“Hmm,” he hummed, tilting his head with a smirk. “You alright there, Anne? Should I be worried that my escort is about to faint before we even begin?”
Her eyes darted away, her grip on her apron tightening further. “N-No, sir! I—I am completely fine!”
Lucavion chuckled again, placing a hand on his chin in feigned thought.
“Oh? Completely fine, you say?”
It felt to him like a challenge, and a mistake on Anne’s part.
Had she known, she would never say those words.