A gentle night breeze carried the scent of flowers and fresh greenery, drifting past the Border City-State Library.
The moonlight cast a soft glow over the stone steps, like the gentle lody of ti itself, making the few passersby pause as if to listen.
Talia sat perfectly still on the library’s front steps.
Until the sky darkened just a little more.
Accompanied by the deep creak of the grand library doors, Lance finally stepped out, a thick legal to in his arms.
Even though Talia had her back turned to him, she tilted her head slightly the mont he appeared—clearly sensing his presence.
“Eh?”
Lance blinked in surprise at the familiar figure, then quickly walked up to her.
“You were waiting for this whole ti?”
Seeing that she didn’t move, he casually sat down near, but not too close to her.
“I accepted your paynt. Naturally, I must do my job.”
Talia’s voice was emotionless.
She hadn’t bothered to check what Lance had been reading all day—but now, she finally noticed.
The Hetton Kingdom Legal Code.
…So that’s what he had been so focused on?
Was he planning to beco a lawyer or a judge?
He really was one of those by-the-book kinds of humans.
“…You didn’t have lunch, did you?”
Lance looked at Talia, who sat as statuesque and poised as a royal sculpture, and suddenly realized that she might have been waiting here the entire day—without eating.
She was even more rigid about upholding contracts than he had imagined.
Maybe this was the pride of the Demon Clan’s royal bloodline?
“……”
Talia didn’t say a word, but she gave Lance a slightly displeased glare—which was as good as admitting it.
“Uh… Well, I was just about to go have dinner. Want to co with ?”
Lance scratched his cheek awkwardly, letting out a sheepish laugh.
“No need. Once you return to your estate, I’ll leave.”
Talia stood up, her body language clearly signaling: Since you’re done here, hurry up and go.
She had no intention of accepting a human’s goodwill for no reason.
“…That was my mistake. I should’ve told you in advance how long I planned to stay.”
Lance spoke sincerely, his voice full of genuine apology.
“So, as compensation, let treat you to dinner.”
However—
Talia stood completely unmoved, as if she hadn’t heard him at all.
“Our estate has the best chef in town,” Lance started, shalessly switching tactics.
“He specializes in the unique flavors of the South Vantina borderlands, using only the finest handpicked ingredients—”
“His dishes are a delicacy you won’t find in other city-states—”
“Not to ntion, we have premium mille-feuille with mango and aged cheese, mocha-hazelnut crispy tarts, platinum-tier strawberry mousse cake—”
“……”
Talia’s eye twitched ever so slightly at the corner.
But then, she imdiately furrowed her brows.
“No.”
She turned away, her voice cold, stepping down from the stairs without another glance at Lance.
Just monts ago—
Lance’s words had echoed in her ears.
Like the whisper of a demon, laced with temptation.
For a brief, fleeting second, she had felt a strange illusion—
It was as if she were standing beside a cunning strategist from the Demon Clan, one who, if fully devoted to her cause, could surely help her restore her fallen kingdom…
No.
That was ridiculous.
Lance was clearly a law-abiding, kind-hearted human boy—
Soone who had nothing to do with her kind.
Clearly, her obsession with restoring her nation was making her hallucinate absurd things.
“Such a sha.”
Lance stood up, casually dusting off his trousers.
With one arm still holding his hefty legal to, he smiled and followed after her.
Talia was still as cold and indifferent as ever—but that was just her personality.
And yet—
Lance had inadvertently discovered sothing interesting.
He recalled a small, obscure detail he had once seen in her character profile.
Talia was a highly disciplined person.
Her strict daily routine included early morning runs, ditation, and cold showers.
However—
As Talia’s “creator”, Lance distinctly rembered a tiny footnote buried in the script’s fine print—
She has sworn off sweets. But on rare occasions when she allows herself dessert, she will only eat the finest, most luxurious ones.
A very subtle detail.
Lance couldn’t help but feel deep suspicion.
Could it be that Talia was secretly a foodie, but she feared “falling” into gluttony?
Demons were most vulnerable to their desires.
If their cravings were exploited by darker forces, it could drive them to madness.
The higher-ranked the demon, the better they were at restraining and concealing their desires.
Lance chuckled silently to himself.
Demons really are fascinating creatures.
The night deepened over the border city-state.
Lance’s estate shone brightly in the darkness, its courtyard aglow with crystal lanterns and warm window light.
On the second floor of the mansion, in a spacious and elegantly decorated study, sat a stern-looking middle-aged man.
Though a few strands of silver had begun to creep into his dark hair, his commanding presence remained undiminished.
His attire—an impeccably tailored old-fashioned suit—was pressed to perfection, reflecting his disciplined nature.
He was Noah Wilfort.
Lance’s father, and the head of the household.
Beside him, the butler quietly poured tea.
The asured footsteps outside the study grew closer.
Monts later—
The study door opened.
A black-haired, green-eyed young man stood at the entrance, his expression tinged with curiosity.
Lance had just returned from the library, finished his dinner, and was about to head upstairs—
When the maids suddenly inford him that his father had summoned him to the study.
“You’re here.”
Noah leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing Lance.
It seed he had been waiting for him for quite so ti.
“My apologies, I wasn’t aware you needed to see today.”
Lance responded calmly and composedly.
Noah nodded.
He had expected Lance to return ho late.
But what he hadn’t expected was to see his son walk in holding a copy of The Hetton Kingdom Legal Code from the Border Library.
He had assud Lance would co ho drunk as usual.
Instead, he had spent the day reading law books?
Noah couldn’t figure out why it was a legal to.
But in that mont, as Lance stood before him—
He almost looked like a dignified scholar or a priest, radiating an unshakable authority.
For a brief instant—
Noah felt a flicker of intimidation—
Like he was looking at a judge with the power over life and death.
Then, Noah sighed, rubbing his temples.
Clearly, just his imagination.
His reckless, irresponsible son had nothing in common with a holy man.
As long as he didn’t get recruited into a cult, that was already good enough.
Honestly—
Noah sotis worried that Lance might fall for the rhetoric of so fanatical cult.
In the worst-case scenario, he could even end up as a fervent worshiper of one of those “calamity-class” High Priests—
An outco Noah did not even want to think about.
But fortunately—
He was absolutely certain that Lance would never have the guts to ss with people darker than the abyss itself.
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