[DING!]
A panel popped up right in front of Lucas’s face—way too close, way too cheerful.
[Good evening, King~ (＾▽＾)]
Lucas let out a quiet sigh.
"We need to talk about personal space."
[Huh? This system doesn’t have a concept like that~ I want to talk!!! (≧▽≦)]
Lucas sat on the edge of the bed, his back resting against the wall. A small oil lamp on the table flickered dimly. His body still ached, but his mind was clearer than it had been last night.
"Alright," he said. "You said you wanted to talk. About what, exactly?"
The panel trembled slightly—then shifted.
[Opening Casual Talk Mode! ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ]
[Today’s topic: life, choices, and the Exchange nu you still haven’t touched~]
Lucas sighed again. "You’re weirdly obsessed with that nu."
[Because that’s literally the reason I exist in your life right now~ (￣▽￣)]
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Show ."
The panel widened. The nu he’d glanced at yesterday appeared again.
---
[EXCHANGE NU]
— Agriculture
— Creative
— Food
Lucas stared at it for a few seconds. Then his finger moved, tapping the second option.
Creative.
The nu opened with a strange animation. Not magical. More like... a catalog.
Lucas froze.
"...What is this?"
Inside was a long list of blueprints, displayed alongside objects that absolutely did not belong in this world.
A portable stove.
A desk lamp.
chanical writing tools.
A small fan.
And sothing he instantly recognized.
"...Is that a rice cooker?"
[Yep~ ☆]
Lucas rubbed his eyes. "Are you serious?"
[Dead serious, King~ This is the Creative category~]
He scrolled. The list was long. Way too long. Filled with odd nas and short descriptions.
Mini Generator (Magic Stone Compatible)
Simple Water Heater
Manual Press Tool
"...You’re telling these work in this world?" Lucas asked quietly.
[Why not? It’s a fantasy world~
Lucas let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"So... electricity gets replaced with magic stones?"
[Yep! Ding ding ding~ Correct answer~ (≧◡≦)]
He shook his head slowly. "That logic is way too simple."
[Efficiency, King~ This world doesn’t overcomplicate things~]
Lucas scrolled again. His eyes stopped at the prices.
200 PP.
450 PP.
1200 PP.
"...That’s insane."
[Hehehe~ Modern stuff is expensive, King~]
Lucas snorted. "And I don’t even have a plan to use any of this." He scratched his head.
"So let get this straight— I have to build these myself, and this nu is basically a full tutorial list?"
[Obviouslyyy~ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ]
He closed the Creative nu and returned to the Exchange screen.
After a brief hesitation, he tapped Food.
The nu shifted again. This ti, it felt different. More... alive.
Food nas appeared with simple illustrations.
Creamy Mushroom Soup with Fire Spices
Soft Bread Stuffed with Roasted at
Aether-Grain Savory Rice
Lucas read them one by one.
"That’s a weird combination."
[Because these aren’t local dishes~]
He glanced sideways. "aning?"
[These are recipes created by the Absolute Being~ (￣▽￣)]
Lucas went silent for a mont.
"So... original food?"
[The only ones in this world~ Only you can make them~]
He stared at the screen. A strange feeling settled in his chest—not excitent, more like quiet bewildernt.
"...That Absolute Being is kinda weird."
The panel didn’t get offended.
Instead, a tiny kaomoji appeared.
[Hehehehehe~
[Yeah... maybe~]
Lucas chuckled. "Why are you so chill about it?"
[Welp... they’re just kinda random ¯\(ツ)/¯~]
He closed the Food nu as well. The Exchange faded away.
"By the way," he said, lying back. "What happened to Lucian Voss — Core Sin Edition?"
The panel reappeared, smaller this ti.
[Still stored in the data~]
"Can I exchange it?"
[You can~ It doesn’t belong to any category~]
The system paused.
[Do you want to trade for it?]
Lucas stared at the ceiling. "I’m a little curious."
He rembered those broken eyes. The way the world had reacted.
"But not now," he continued. "I want to focus on developing Voss first."
The panel blinked.
[Noted~ King~
The oil lamp flickered softly. The system vanished without a sound.
Lucas closed his eyes.
His thoughts were calm.
---
A wide balcony overlooked the night sky.
The moon hung high above, silver light washing over the stone floor.
A pale, black-haired woman sat on an iron chair. Her posture was straight. Serene.
Beside her stood a white crane—larger than normal, wings folded neatly.
"My Lady," the crane spoke. Her voice was gentle. Feminine.
The woman turned.
Her left eye was different—scarred, its pupil clouded. Her right eye was a clear brown.
She smiled. "What is it, Morvy?"
The crane stepped closer, lifting a wing to gently brush the woman’s cheek.
"Why do you not heal that wound?" she asked softly.
"You could be beautiful again, as you once were."
The woman let out a quiet laugh.
She gently lowered the wing and stood.
The night wind stirred her hair as she gazed at the moon.
"Your magic is not of a low order," Morvy continued.
"That injury is no obstacle."
The woman fell silent for a mont. Her hands clenched behind her back.
"If this scar were to disappear," she said quietly.
She drew a breath.
"And I were to regain the face you call beautiful..."
She turned, tilting her head slightly, her smile thin.
"I would lose the proof that I fought to reach this place."
The wind grew stronger. Her black hair swayed gently.
Morvy did not reply. Her wings folded once more.
The moon remained—silent, unmoving.
The wind strengthened, slipping between stone and iron, carrying the scent of night.
Morvy finally spoke.
"Then tell ," the crane said, her voice low, deliberate,
"why did you not destroy the man who stole the light from that eye?"
The woman did not answer at once.
Moonlight traced the scar along her face, turning it pale silver.
"I wanted to," she said at last.
Her voice was calm—but not gentle.
"I wanted to tear him apart until even mory refused to hold his shape."
Morvy’s head tilted slightly. "Yet you did not."
The woman let out a slow breath.
"Because killing him would only soothe his soul."
She turned her gaze downward, toward the distant lights of the city far below.
"If he were dead," she continued,
"what would I gain?"
Silence followed, heavy and unbroken.
"Peace?" she answered herself.
"Peace, knowing he no longer suffers in this world."
Her fingers curled.
"But that peace would not be mine."
Morvy’s wings shifted softly. "You wish him to suffer, then?"
The woman shook her head.
"No. Suffering fades."
Her lips curved into a faint, cold smile.
"I want him to exist."
She turned back toward the moon.
"To walk forward while carrying the weight of what he beca."
"To live long enough to realize that even if the world forgets, the stain does not."
The wind whispered through the balcony.
"If I kill him," she said quietly,
"I end his story."
Her eye—clouded, broken—lifted toward the sky.
"But if I let him live...
then every step he takes becos a reminder."
Morvy bowed her head slightly. "A cruel rcy."
The woman’s smile did not waver.
---
Morning arrived without haste.
The sky was clear. The air fresh.
Lucas stood at the edge of the tomato field. Silvara was beside him. Her expression had returned to normal—no trace of fatigue.
Only two people stood before them.
Geralt and Anya.
Lucas glanced around. "Your wife’s not coming today?"
Geralt shook his head. "The villagers’ houses are finished."
Lucas let out a short breath. "Alright."
His gaze dropped to the paper in Geralt’s hand.
"So... where’s the registration form?"
Geralt handed it over. Lucas took it.
He smiled faintly. The writing on the paper was dull black.
"...Charcoal."
He rembered—ink wasn’t cheap for common folk.
Anya hopped excitedly.
"!" she declared proudly.
"Iron Knight hath fully conquered letters!"
She clenched her small fists.
"So I helpeth Father fill it!"
Lucas chuckled. "Chubby kid obsessed with bread."
Anya froze. Her grin widened, nose lifting slightly—waiting.
Lucas looked at her.
"Alright. Turns out you’re pretty competent."
Anya laughed with delight.
"Hehehe!"
Silvara remained silent, gaze fixed on the field.
Geralt cleared his throat. "About the seedlings—"
Lucas didn’t hesitate. His hand moved. Five seedlings appeared in his palm.
He handed them over.
Geralt took them, bewildered.
Lucas pointed toward the far end of the field.
"Plant them at the very edge."
Geralt nodded quickly. "Understood."
He grabbed his hoe and walked off, steps light.
Lucas summoned Loticentra. The weapon appeared in his hand.
Silvara stepped aside.
He didn’t offer it imdiately. He paused.
"...Please," he said. "Excuse ."
The tone was forced. He himself felt a bit embarrassed.
Silvara looked at him, expression blank.
She took Loticentra and walked toward the center of the field.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Is this him trying his best... for ? she thought.
That’s... kind of cute.
She almost laughed.
Her foot missed a small ditch in the soil.
She slipped.
Fell.
Silvara got back up unsteadily. Lucas and Anya watched from afar.
Anya tugged at Lucas’s sleeve.
"Young Master... Miss Silvara is not hurt?"
She leaned in closer.
"You did not bully her, yes?"
Lucas glanced over, then crouched, patting Anya’s head.
"Nope," he said lightly,
"Maybe, she’s just too happy that her first student turned out so smart."
Anya bead, barely holding in her giggles.
"Mweheheh..."
The morning breeze drifted softly.
The field remained peaceful.
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