Adrian sprawled dramatically across the living room couch, one hand clutching his stomach like he was on the verge of collapse. His hoodie clung to him from sweat, and his usually styled hair was damp and messy from the earlier training. "I'm starving," he groaned loudly, "I haven't eaten since before training. You two nearly killed me!"
Lucian looked up briefly from a file he was reviewing and said with zero sympathy, "You insisted on the second round, Adrian."
"But still!" Adrian whined. "My body is dying, Lucian. D-Y-I-N-G. I need food. No—crave food. Something crazy. I want spiced coconut wraps with fried plantain and pickled fish."
From the far end of the room, the oldest butler of the Reign household, Mr. Dovien, paused mid-step. With years of impeccable posture and icy composure, Dovien turned sharply toward Adrian. His crisp white gloves were perfectly fitted, and his silver hair neatly combed back, as always. "Master Adrian," he said with slow precision, "you're allergic to pickled fish."
Adrian rolled to one side lazily, peering at him upside-down. "I know, Dovien. That's not the point."
"Then what *is* the point, sir?"
Adrian grinned mischievously. "I'm playing Cupid."
Mr. Dovien blinked, visibly taken aback. His gaze shifted subtly toward Ivy, who had just stepped into the room, fresh from a shower, her damp hair tied up messily and wearing a simple, slightly fitted top and loose pants—comfortable, casual, but elegant in its own tomboyish way.
"Cupid…?" Dovien echoed cautiously.
Adrian sprang off the couch, walking backwards toward Ivy. "Yeah. I'm shipping the Hacker Queen and Ice Prince. She's the only person who hasn't run off screaming after Lucian trains her."
Dovien narrowed his eyes slightly, then gave a single, polite nod—though deep down, he too was startled by how much patience Lucian had shown earlier. Never once had the young master tolerated anyone fumbling through training—except her.
Lucian, still at the far end, shut his file and stood up.
"Ivy," Adrian sang cheerfully, "you and the Ice King are going to get my food."
Ivy raised a brow. "You're not coming?"
"Nope. I'm *resting*. Cupid needs recovery time."
Lucian looked at Ivy for a moment. She shrugged.
"Fine," she said, adjusting her slippers as she headed for the door.
Outside, the late afternoon sun stretched golden fingers across the pavement. The walk was quiet at first—Lucian and Ivy strolling side-by-side down a tree-lined path that led to the estate's private commercial block.
Lucian's eyes briefly flicked to Ivy's attire. Not her usual oversized hoodie and jeans—still casual, but refined, and somehow… more her. He didn't comment. Only tucked his hands in his pockets, walking in his usual silent grace.
"You're not going to ask why I agreed to this?" Ivy finally asked, glancing at him sideways.
"I assumed Adrian annoyed you into it."
A pause. Then Ivy smirked faintly. "Pretty much."
Lucian's lips lifted slightly at the corner—just a fraction of a smile. "He does that."
As they walked further, the quiet between them was steady, not strained. Ivy looked ahead, then to the side again. "You know… earlier during training… you didn't need to help me shoot."
"You were shaking," Lucian replied without looking at her.
"I wasn't—"
"With the new gun, yes. Its recoil is stronger than you're used to."
Ivy pressed her lips together. "Still didn't mean you had to—"
"I didn't want you getting hurt."
Ivy turned toward him slightly. That one sentence, delivered so flatly and naturally, felt more personal than she expected.
She looked away. "Thanks, I guess."
Lucian nodded once, and they kept walking.
From a distance, they might have looked like an unlikely pair. But to anyone watching closely, something was shifting—unspoken glances, quiet steps in sync, and a weight in the air that wasn't tension, but something deeper.
Back at the estate, Adrian peeked out the window, grinning like a proud matchmaker.
"They'll thank me later," he muttered to himself.
Behind him, Mr. Dovien passed with a tray and sighed quietly. "I somehow doubt that, sir."
The sun warmed the stone path beneath their feet, the wind carrying soft scents of citrus and distant flowers. Ivy kicked a stray pebble with her slipper, watching it skip across the path before breaking the silence again.
"You ever just… take walks like this?" she asked casually, her tone light.
Lucian, walking beside her with hands in his pockets, didn't glance her way. "No."
"Didn't think so," she murmured with a small smirk. "Feels weird, right? Being outside without calculating who's watching or what weapon to reach for first."
Lucian gave a low hum, something between amusement and thought. "Being watched isn't always a threat. Sometimes it's just… observation."
Ivy looked sideways at him. "That sounds like something only a man who's spent too long being observed would say."
"Perhaps."
They walked in silence for a few moments more, their steps syncing up naturally.
"I used to want something normal," Ivy said suddenly, eyes on the row of hedges ahead. "Before all this—before my father's world became mine. I wanted… normal classes, a small apartment with a broken heater, and crappy takeout."
Lucian's gaze shifted toward her, but he said nothing.
Ivy laughed faintly, dry and bitter. "Funny, right? The girl who brought down two companies now talking about late-night ramen and student loans."
"Not funny," Lucian said quietly. "Just honest."
She blinked, surprised at his response.
"Most people want peace," he continued, "but few are willing to admit they've lost it."
The words hung between them, heavy but not suffocating. Ivy nodded slowly, then muttered, "You're not what I expected."
Lucian tilted his head. "What did you expect?"
"A stone wall," she answered without hesitation. "And I wasn't entirely wrong."
That earned the faintest breath of a chuckle from him. It wasn't much—but for Lucian, it was something.
As they approached the corner of the estate leading into the private commercial area, Ivy asked one more thing. Her voice was quiet, serious.
"You ever regret it? This life?"
Lucian looked forward again, his expression unreadable. "No. Regret is useless. But sometimes... I wonder what I could have been if I didn't need to become this."
For a second, Ivy said nothing. Then, softly: "Same."
And in that moment, walking under the shade of whispering trees, with no gunfire or commands or hacked systems—just truth—they understood each other more deeply than either realized.
Then, Lucian said dryly, "Let's get Adrian his damn pickled fish before he fakes a coma."
Ivy rolled her eyes. "If he dies from it, I'm blaming you."
Lucian only nodded, already leading the way down the stone steps into the market lane.