Lumi had just set down her tray and was gathering the feather duster from the table when Lucen pulled open the wardrobe behind her, still shirtless, still wearing that smug face like he'd already won something.
She tried to ignore it. Really tried.
He didn't.
"Hmm…" he said, grabbing a folded shirt but not putting it on just yet. "You sure you don't still want to help me change?"
She froze.
"I mean," he added, pulling the shirt halfway over his shoulder, "you've already done it plenty of times while I was out cold. Might as well enjoy it now that I'm awake."
Her head snapped toward him, face bright red.
"Y-Young Master—!"
He turned, raising a brow, letting the shirt hang loose, chest still completely exposed.
"So… still planning to help me dress, or were you just here to admire the view?"
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Then—finally—
"N-No! I mean—I wasn't—Young Master, I just—! I came here to clean, not to—look at—I didn't mean—!"
Lucen smirked, taking his time sliding one arm into the sleeve.
Lumi looked like she was about to collapse into herself, staring at the floor, hands gripping her duster like it might save her soul.
"I-I'll just start with the curtains," she squeaked, voice barely holding together as she spun around and marched to the windows in a rush.
Lucen wasn't planning for this.
Not really.
But… Lumi was kind of adorable.
The shy maid who used to change his clothes while he was unconscious, now flustered and cornered by a single half-smile and a loose robe.
She was easy to tease. Easy to read.
And more importantly, already close to the original Lucen. Loyal. Comfortable. Familiar.
He flicked open the system while buttoning up his shirt.
[Lumi – Affection: 61/100 | Desire: 20/100]
That explained it.
He smiled.
Not the smug grin from earlier. This one was charming. Soft. The kind that made most people relax. Made them trust.
"Lumi," he said sweetly, "you've always helped me dress before… haven't you?"
She froze halfway through straightening the curtain.
"Y-Young Master?"
He tilted his head, hand brushing lazily through his hair. The shirt was barely on—only the first two buttons done.
"Why stop now? Go on. Help me."
She turned slowly, nervously.
"I… I think it'd be inappropriate now, Young Master. You're awake, and—and it's not the same—"
Lucen's smile didn't change.
But his hand came up to his temple.
He staggered slightly.
"…Nnh…"
Lumi's eyes widened in panic.
"Y-Young Master?!"
He sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft exhale, eyes half-lidded.
"Sorry. I'm… I might've moved too much this morning."
She rushed toward him without thinking.
"Y-You should lie back down—!"
He glanced up at her, giving her a faintly guilty, boyish look.
"I just thought… if you helped me, like before… I'd be okay."
She bit her lip, hands shaking a little, clearly caught between logic and instinct.
"I… I suppose just the shirt wouldn't hurt…"
Lucen smiled again.
Lumi's hands hovered in front of his shirt for a moment—fingers shaking just slightly. Then, carefully, she reached up and undid the third button.
Her fingertips brushed against his skin.
♥ Desire +2
She flinched.
But kept going. Button by button, inch by inch, her hands moved lower. Every touch grazing his chest, his stomach—warm and bare and way too easy to feel under her trembling fingers.
♥ Desire +3
She tried not to breathe too loud.
Lucen sat still, eyes on her the whole time. Calm. Relaxed. Watching every little twitch in her face, every time her eyes dropped then jerked away.
When she got to the last button, she hesitated.
He looked down at her and grinned.
"What are you waiting for?" he said softly. "There's still the pants left."
Her brain broke right there.
"Y-Young Master!! I—I can't—I mean I didn't—I wasn't going to—!"
She stepped back so fast she nearly tripped over the end of the bed.
Face red. Hands up. Voice cracking.
Lucen tilted his head, clearly enjoying the show.
"What? You've done it before, haven't you?"
Her mouth opened. Then closed. Nothing came out but a tiny, squeaky sound.
He let it hang for a second longer—
Then laughed quietly and waved her off.
"I'm kidding."
Her shoulders slumped in pure, visible relief.
Lucen stood, smoothing down the shirt himself.
"I'll handle the rest. But thanks."
She blinked up at him, still flushed, still off-balance.
He reached out and gently placed a hand on her head, fingers resting in her hair.
"Thanks for taking care of me. Even if it was just Mother's orders."
♥ Affection +5
Her eyes widened slightly at the gesture.
She was older than him—just by a few years—but the way he said it, the way he touched her…
She looked down, face softening.
"You're welcome, Young Master…"
As Lumi bowed quickly and turned to leave, still red to her ears and gripping her duster like a weapon, Lucen called out softly behind her.
"Oh, and Lumi?"
She stopped mid-step, glancing back.
He gave her a lazy smile.
"If you ever do change your mind about the pants… just knock."
Her whole body stiffened. She stammered something incoherent and practically sprinted out the door.
Lucen laughed under his breath and turned back to the mirror.
This time, he actually dressed properly—buttoned the shirt all the way up, adjusting the collar.
He stared at his reflection.
And sighed.
No wonder everyone thought the author was jerking off when describing him.
The mirror didn't lie.
Lucen Ferndale looked like he'd been carved from moonlight—long lashes, sharp jaw, smooth pale skin, high cheekbones. His eyes were that unnatural violet, clear and bright even without mana flaring. The long blonde hair, down past his shoulders, added a delicate contrast that made him look… ethereal.
He ruffled it with one hand, strands falling back around his face.
Should I cut this off?
It looked good. No doubt about that.
But the long hair, the soft skin, the delicate body—it all screamed fragile. Innocent. Untouchable. The perfect picture of a doomed young noble.
A lie.
No one took him seriously until it was too late, he thought. Half a chapter of overblown beauty descriptions just to become the most hated bastard in the novel.
He tilted his head slightly, watching how the light played along the curve of his neck, the fall of his collarbone.
Lucen raised his hand, palm open.
A soft light bloomed into existence above it. Simple. Controlled. Clean.
Light affinity.
One of the rarest in the setting—and part of why the original Lucen was always dying.
His body was too weak to hold it. His bloodline—dormant, demonic—clashed with it nonstop. The two forces chewed through his core until there was nothing left.
Now?
It stayed stable.
Dim, steady glow, no flicker, no backlash crawling up his arm. No pain in his chest. No dizziness.
It wasn't strong. Not yet. But it worked.
He watched it sit there, floating just above his palm, before letting it fade.
Coexistence, he thought. Guess that's what the system did.
———————————————————————————————————
Lucen stepped into the dining hall, the scent of warm bread and roasted herbs already in the air.
The table was set, but only one person sat waiting.
Lady Arwen.
Her posture was perfect as always, but her expression softened the moment she saw him—eyes warming, a gentle smile tugging at her lips like it couldn't be helped.
"There you are, my sweet boy," she said, voice soft and bright. "I was about to come wake you myself."
Lucen took his seat across from her, grabbing a slice of bread as a maid quietly filled their cups. Arwen reached over and smoothed a wrinkle on his sleeve before sitting back.
"You look better this morning," she said warmly. "Did you sleep well?"
He nodded lightly.
"Yeah. I feel fine."
She beamed. "That makes me happy, Lucen. Really."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments—she kept watching him between sips of tea, not even hiding it.
Halfway through his plate, Lucen looked up.
"Mother?"
"Yes, dear?"
He set his fork down lightly.
"Do you think we could start training today? You teaching me mana circulation, cultivating again…"
Arwen paused, then gave a soft, almost touched little laugh.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
He nodded.
"I want to do it right."
Her eyes glistened, just slightly, but her smile stayed gentle.
"Of course we can," she said sweetly. "Anything for you, darling. After breakfast, I'll prepare everything. We'll start slow. I'll guide you through every step."
She reached over and touched his hand gently, squeezing it once.
"I'm so proud of you already."
After breakfast, Arwen led him through the estate's inner halls. Past the tall windows and polished corridors, to the large indoor training chambe.
The floor was smooth stone, enchanted for mana stability. Tall ceilings. Thick barriers along the walls. It was quiet, empty, and filled with soft morning light.
She walked a few steps ahead of him, hands folded.
And she sighed.
Quiet. Barely audible.
She remembered the last time he tried pushing himself. How pale he'd gone. The fever. The stillness in that bed for weeks after.
But now he was walking beside her again, and asking to train.
She looked back at him as they stepped into the center of the room.
"If you're serious about this," she said softly, "then I'll help you. No holding back."
Lucen nodded, already sitting cross-legged on the mat.
Arwen knelt across from him, smoothing her gown under her knees before settling down.
She studied his face for a moment—calm, focused.
Then she started.
"You know how it works, right? Most nobles your age… they've already had years. The moment they awaken their affinity, they begin training."
She reached out and lightly tapped the center of his chest with two fingers.
"But you collapsed during your awakening. Your mana went unstable. Everything had to stop."
He didn't flinch.
She pulled her hand back.
"You've lost time, Lucen. And the Academy's entrance requirement isn't forgiving. Reaching 3rd Circle in a month and a half isn't just hard. It's borderline insane."
Her voice softened.
"But if you are serious…"
He nodded once, firm.
"I am."
She gave a small smile.
"Then we'll start now. And you'll need to give this everything."
Arwen sat up straighter on the mat, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
"Let's go over the basics first," she said, her tone gentle, almost like reciting an old memory. "Mana exists in two ways: the innate mana inside your body, and the ambient mana flowing through the world around us."
Lucen watched her, nodding slightly.
"The mana inside you—your core—grows slowly over time. You were born with it. But to get stronger, to advance, you need more than that."
She raised one hand slowly, palm up.
"That's where absorption comes in."
A faint glow began to gather in her palm—light magic, but different from his. Clean. Bright. Controlled. The glow stayed steady, not even flickering.
"When we meditate, we're drawing mana in from the environment. Pulling it into our body. Guiding it. Shaping it. Then forming what we call a circle—a structured loop within our core."
She closed her fingers slightly, the light condensing into a small, focused orb.
"The more stable your circle, the more efficiently you absorb. And the more your body adapts to that power, the closer you move toward the next tier."
Lucen looked at the light in her palm.
It was so smooth. Not just strong—but balanced. Like it belonged there.
Nothing like the flickering spark he managed yesterday.
Arwen lowered her hand, letting the light fade.
"You've already awakened your affinity. That's the rarest step for most people. But now you need to build your foundation from scratch."
She looked at him again, expression soft but serious.
"That means hours of breathing, controlling flow, handling pushback… and making sure your body doesn't burn out in the process."
She reached forward and gently touched his chest again, right over his heart.
"But I'll guide you. Every step."