A few minutes later.
Lux used the back of her hand to wipe the tears the spice had forced out of the corners of her eyes. She looked up with a pitiful little expression at Luke across from her.
There were still four full cups of ice water in front of him that he hadn't touched.
"What's wrong? Didn't you say it wasn't spicy?" Luke picked up the second cup like he was drinking tea and took a gentle sip.
He even remembered how smug Miss Crownguard had been just a few minutes ago.
Faced with that question, Lux steeled herself. She speared another piece of Spicy Chicken and stuffed it into her mouth, stubbornly insisting, "It's not spicy!"
"—Hiss… ha… hiss…"
But before long, her mouth started making those involuntary hissing sounds.
On the other side, Fiora kept her head lowered. You couldn't see her expression, and she wasn't making a sound—but she also hadn't spoken in a long time.
They had one thing in common: their lips looked like they'd put on lipstick—bright red.
Neither of them could understand it. How was this getting spicier the more they ate?
Like the "spice meter" was stacking—going from 0 to 1, from 1 to 2, then from 2 to 4, doubling nonstop.
At the beginning it just tasted fragrant. In the middle it became fragrant and spicy. By the end, it was nothing but spice.
Their mouths were so hot they'd practically gone numb.
But for the sake of pride, Fiora kept forcing herself not to make a sound.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
The most infuriating thing was Luke. This bastard was drinking ice water like it was hot water—taking a tiny sip, then making that smug little "ahh" sound afterward.
It was pure provocation!
"So why aren't you two eating?" Luke lounged there, sipping ice water, smiling as he spoke. "Don't tell me you're so spicy you can't move?"
Fiora immediately lifted her head, stared straight at Luke, and sneered. "Don't joke around. You call this spicy?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Lux nodded like a pecking chick.
The two girls exchanged a look, then sped up, eating piece after piece—neither the chilies nor the chicken got a pass.
Luke didn't say anything. He just watched with a grin.
If nothing else, watching two stunning girls eat was very pleasing to the eye.
He loved nothing more than treating stubborn mouths.
After a few more bites…
"I can't—this is way too spicy!" Lux was the first to break. Her small mouth hung open, her eyes slightly unfocused from the heat. She turned her head to the right and looked at Fiora.
Fiora still looked like she had plenty of fight left, resisting with sheer willpower.
Lux shot her an apologetic look and surrendered. And just like that, she got her wish—Luke's third cup of ice water.
She grabbed it and immediately tilted her head back, chugging it down. As the icy cool washed through her, the psychological level of "spice panic" finally eased.
Fiora lifted her eyes, and a flicker of envy passed through them. But in the next second, she stubbornly lowered her head again.
She continued fighting alone.
By now, her mouth felt like it was on fire. Only now did she truly understand what it meant when people said spice was a kind of pain.
Never surrender easily—those were her life's words!
Lux, already defeated, watched Fiora's stubborn persistence with admiration. She glanced at the half basin of Spicy Chicken still left and felt a genuine fear of it.
Only she knew how brutal the spice level of that Spicy Chicken really was.
Miss Crownguard silently sent Fiora a look of encouragement and support.
And when Luke lifted the fourth cup of ice water, Fiora felt her heart tremble. She forced her gaze away, repeating to herself:
Only one cup left.
She ate a few more bites with her scalp tingling, and chewing itself started to feel difficult.
Then she saw Luke's sinful hand reach for the fifth cup of ice water.
"Don't—"
She tried to stop him on instinct, but the sound had barely left her throat before Fiora snapped her mouth shut again.
Still, Luke heard it. He looked at Fiora and gave her a gentle, friendly smile. "Miss Fiora, were you talking to me just now?"
Fiora replied calmly, "No."
"Is that so? Then I must've misheard." Luke didn't press her. He slowly picked up the fifth cup of ice water and brought it toward his lips.
Fiora watched, eyes wide, then finally clenched her teeth. "I was going to say…"
"Mm?" Luke paused. "Say what?"
Fiora parted her lips. Her voice dropped lower. "My mouth is a little dry…"
"If your mouth is dry, I'll have Yurna prepare you a cup of hot water right away." Luke smiled and started to rise as if to give the order.
Hot water?
Are you a devil?!
Even Fiora froze for a moment. At the state she was in now, if she drank hot water, she'd probably die on the spot!
Under the table, her fist tightened.
Her heart wrestled violently with itself, but the words still wouldn't come out.
Lux looked at Fiora with sympathy—then shot Luke a disgusted look.
This guy was way too awful.
Didn't he know they had pride too?!
No.
He knew.
He just wanted this exact effect—this kind of psychological torture!
Lux had seen right through this jerk!
But watching Fiora struggle, Lux was powerless to help.
She was already the loser. The losing side didn't get to say anything.
…Sigh.
Lux sighed internally, withdrew her gaze, and quietly sipped her ice water.
As the coolness slid down her throat, she suddenly felt that sometimes, being honest wasn't so bad.
"Miss Fiora," Luke said, his rising motion strangely delayed, like he still wasn't leaving. "Is there something else you want to say?"
Facing Luke's repeated, deliberate provocation, Fiora clenched her teeth so hard she wanted to flip the table right then and there.
But she held it back with frightening willpower!
Don't get mad. Don't get mad!
He's doing it on purpose—getting mad means falling into his trap!
She tried to soothe herself like that, but the burning in her mouth kept reminding her she desperately needed something cold to put the fire out.
Forcing a smile, Fiora lowered her voice even more. "It is pretty spicy. I want ice water."
Under the table, her clenched fist finally relaxed in defeat.
The Swordmistress—at last—lowered her proud head.
A triumphant smile spread across Luke's face as he handed the ice water over. "You should've said so earlier. If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to know?"
Fiora's mouth twitched. She took the cup, struggling with every ounce of restraint not to punch that infuriating face.
Gulp, gulp, gulp—!
Just like Lux, Fiora tilted her head back and chugged. In her urgency, droplets slid from her lips, traced down her smooth, pale chin, and continued along her fair neck.
Two seconds later—thunk—Fiora slammed the empty cup onto the table.
Draining the entire cup in one breath gave her an almost extreme sense of relief.
The next moment, once she recovered, Fiora's cool, sharp eyes locked onto Luke.
The Swordmistress curled her lips into a cold smile. "I suddenly feel a bit like sparring."
"No sparring. I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed!" Luke rejected instantly and turned to leave.
What kind of joke was that? Spar with you right now? That was just volunteering to get beaten up.
Maybe he should've escaped while the Swordmistress was still drinking.
Instead of staying put to savor the fruits of victory.
But making the proud Swordmistress yield—how many people could do that? If he didn't witness it to the very end, what a priceless moment he'd miss!
When he felt the killing intent behind him, Luke suddenly had a chilling thought:
If he chose sleep right now…
He might actually die under the blankets.
"…Fine. I'll spar, just a little." Luke turned back helplessly and accepted her invitation.
What Fiora hadn't calculated was that it was noon—the hottest part of the day—and she'd eaten so much Spicy Chicken.
The moment they went outside to bake in the sun, it felt like she was being roasted alive.
In the end, she and Luke fought to a mutual wreck. She regained her dignity in the sparring… but she also got scorched pretty badly.
The two girls seized Luke's bedroom. Even Yurna got called away—Lux and Fiora ate ice cream while enjoying the water-powered fan in that room.
Luke got kicked outside.
Fortunately, he'd prepared two fans ahead of time.
He lay back in the rocking chair. Beside him was a small table with a cup of ice water containing three ice cubes, and above him was a sun umbrella.
The water-powered fan blew cool air.
But he was exhausted in both body and mind, and didn't want to move at all.
"…Sigh."
Luke let out a long, weary sigh and closed his eyes to rest.
They were the ones who asked for spicy food.
They were also the ones who couldn't take it and then took it out on him.
He only wanted to protect a chef's dignity—what was wrong with that?
In the end… it was all for nothing.
Around him, the sound of flowing water circled the estate like a small stream. It wasn't noisy at all—if anything, it sounded like gentle bells.
Luke's specially made sun umbrella cast a patch of shade. He lay within it, cool wind brushing over him, the temperature just right.
After a whole night without sleep, drowsiness finally crept in.
Upstairs, in the bedroom.
Lux lay bored at the windowsill, slender arms dangling and swinging as she looked down at Luke in the yard. With wind blowing behind her, she opened her mouth and yawned, feeling a lazy softness seep into her bones.
Fiora had moved a chair over and sat quietly reading. If she turned her head, she could see the yard through the window.
Maybe it was because of the cool water continuously circulating around the estate—the room's temperature never rose much. And with the fan pushing out steady cool air, it felt even more refreshing.
If nothing else… that guy really knew how to enjoy life.
Watching Luke doze beneath the sun umbrella, Fiora's lips curved into a faint smile without her noticing.
Noon passed.
Fiora felt something heavy pressing against her. She frowned instinctively, and the next second, her eyes opened.
The first thing she saw was an unfamiliar ceiling.
Not her room.
A soft, warm, faint airflow brushed her neck.
She turned her head—and saw Lux's sleeping face, peaceful and sweet, her head resting on Fiora's shoulder. That warm airflow was Lux's breath.
Looking further down, Fiora realized she was being used like a body pillow—one arm was wrapped around her, and even a thigh was draped over her lower body.
No wonder it felt heavy.
But now a new question rose in Fiora's mind:
Why had she fallen asleep here?
She vaguely remembered reading until she got drowsy, thinking she'd just lean on the bed and read a little longer… and then it became this.
She didn't have a habit of napping. Usually, her self-control was extremely strong.
Yet today, she had fallen asleep on a man's bed—who knew how long—and slept so soundly.
She could even smell Luke's scent in the bedding.
At that thought, Fiora gently moved Lux's arm and leg off her, then sat up.
The motion disturbed Miss Crownguard. The next second, Lux's eyes cracked open hazily. She sat up, dazed and bleary, and asked, "Food's ready?"
"Not yet," Fiora replied calmly.
"Oh."
Lux immediately flopped backward and lay down again. Almost instantly, she fell back asleep, letting out a faint little snore.
The water-powered fan was still whirring. Luke's maid was nowhere to be seen.
Fiora walked downstairs.
A moment later, she reached the yard.
The sunlight wasn't as harsh as it had been at noon, but the heat hadn't really dropped.
Under the sun umbrella, Luke's sleeping face looked oddly similar to Lux's upstairs—except in Fiora's eyes, it somehow seemed… a little cute.
She heard movement behind her.
Yurna carried over a chair and placed it beside the small table under the sun umbrella.
Clearly, it was for her.
After nodding in thanks, Fiora sat down. Her gaze rested on Luke's face for several seconds, then shifted toward the direction of House Laurent.
Of course, all she could see was a wall and the blue sky.
The wind drifted softly. Everything around them was quiet—strangely peaceful.
If it were any other day… what would she be doing?
Fiora found herself lost in thought.
Reading. Training with the blade. Becoming the version of herself they approved of.
It felt like she'd been living that way for a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent an afternoon like this—leisurely, not thinking about anything.
Her family's environment left her suffocating, like she could barely breathe.
Her time—every minute, every second—seemed too precious to waste.
Because of that, she never wasted time on things without meaning.
But what she was doing right now… was it meaningless?
If it was, then where was this sense of calm in her heart coming from?
She lowered her head, eyes unblinking as she stared at Luke's face—this time without looking away.
For some reason, even though he was an infuriating man… his face was impossibly easy to look at.
And then, right at that moment, Luke seemed to wake up. He opened his eyes—and froze.
"Miss Fiora," he asked, still a little stunned, "do you know what it feels like to wake up and find someone staring at you?"
Fiora tilted her head, curious. "What does it feel like?"
Luke: "…"
He hadn't expected her to actually ask.
If the person staring at him wasn't a cold, breathtaking beauty, he'd genuinely be scared.
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