Dinner ensued in silence—no arguments, no verbal spats, not even idle conversation. The only sounds filling the grand dining hall were the clinking of utensils, the subtle shifting of weight, and the quiet rhythm of chewing.

  Lucien hardly noticed. His focus was elsewhere.

  Accustomed to the numbness that dulled his senses, was surprised to find that his taste buds had returned.

  The moment the first bite hit his tongue, he froze. A rush of sensation flooded his senses, overwhelming in its crity. It had been so long—too long—since he'd st tasted anything. The numbness that dulled his senses for decades had vanished.

  The honey-gzed boar ribs cracked under his teeth, the caramelized crust giving way to tender, fall-off-the-bone meat. A deep, primal savoriness coated his tongue, rich and juicy, with a faint smokiness that lingered at the edges of his senses. He swallowed, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the simple act of eating felt… satisfying.

  He moved onto the eggs—silky, almost custard-like, sliding down his throat with buttery smoothness. The truffle's earthy musk bloomed across his pate, dark and intoxicating, twining with the fresh, peppery bite of herbs. Luxurious. That was the only word for it.

  Then, the mb. He barely had to chew—the slow-braised meat melted apart the moment it touched his tongue, bathed in a sauce so rich it sent a warmth down to his bones. Rosemary wove through it all, its sharp, piney fragrance cutting through the velvety fat like a whisper of something fresh, something alive. A lingering sweetness clung to his lips, the taste of caramelized meat and aged stock reduced into something dark and indulgent.

  A slow breath escaped him.

  He almost shed a tear.

  Ahh… this is life.

  A warmth spread through his chest as he leaned back slightly, savoring the lingering fvors on his tongue. His stomach, comfortably full, carried a pleasant heaviness—a rare feeling, one he hadn't realized he'd missed.

  After finishing his meal, he excused himself and left the dining room.

  Just outside, he found the guard—and Elise.

  Don't tell me she stood here the entire time.

  He stepped closer and whispered, "Were you here the whole time?"

  Elise shook her head. "No, I just arrived after finishing my breakfast."

  How did she eat and get here so quickly?

  "Anyway, let's go," Lucien said dismissively.

  Elise gave a small nod and followed after him.

  Eating breakfast was nice and all, but I didn't find anything useful—nothing that could help me escape.

  I'm still trapped here, severely restricted. What kind of power did Jake use?

  There's no point in going back to my room.

  I should search around the household—maybe I'll find something.

  Lucien stopped abruptly at the edge of the spiral staircase. "Elise, let's go to the training ground."

  Elise, walking just behind him, nearly collided with his back. She quickly regained her composure, her eyes widening slightly. "Are you sure, Master Lucien?" she asked softly.

  "Yeah."

  She nodded but hesitated for a brief moment, her gaze flickering to his face.

  Lucien narrowed his eyes. "What?"

  She shook her head and turned around. "Nothing Master."

  Leading the way to the main entrance of the Waren estate—an imposing double door of dark mahogany—Lucien approached with Elise beside him. Two guards stood at either side, their posture rigid, while a man wearing framed gsses sat at a nearby table, likely responsible for registering visitors.

  Yet, the guards didn't move to open the door. Instead, one of them spoke in a heavy voice.

  "Where are you going?"

  Elise furrowed her brow, about to speak up, but Lucien stepped forward.

  "To the training ground."

  For a moment, the guards exchanged gnces before bursting into ughter.

  "Why is a rat heading to the lions' den? Looking for cheese? Hahaha!"

  Beside him, Elise exhaled sharply, fuming. Her voice dropped to a lower pitch, words coming fast and clipped.

  "Why are you ughing? Should I inform the Baron of his knights' insubordination?"

  The smug smiles vanished in an instant. At the mere mention of the Baron, their bodies stiffened, a faint tremor running through them.

  The one who had spoken first coughed awkwardly. "Ahem! We were just about to open it."

  "Then do it already," Elise snapped, impatience cing her tone.

  Wow, I didn't know Elise could be such a bossy type.

  As they stepped outward, a cool breeze brushed against them. The chirping of birds filled the air, blending with the faint, dusty scent of dry soil.

  Beside the door, a soldier stood, watching curiously.

  Before Lucien eyes, the nd stretched into the distance until a sturdy cobblestone wall marked the edge of his peripheral vision.

  The pce bustled with activity, almost resembling a market. Guards patrolled the area, their eyes scanning for anything suspicious, while others gathered in small groups, engaged in casual conversation. Soldiers hauled crates of arms and equipment, their movements precise and practiced. Farmers haggled with servants over carts brimming with fresh vegetables, their voices rising and falling in negotiation. Meanwhile, gardeners meticulously tended to the flower beds, their hands moving with practiced care.

  Lucien and Elise moved around the household to the back, their steps steady as their boots crunched against the dry soil.

  Various trainees jogged around the training grounds, their synchronized steps kicking up dust. In the center, others strained through rigorous push-ups, muscles taut with exertion.

  Near the far end, a group of young recruits engaged in Iron Tag—a game of endurance and agility. One pyer sprinted into the opposing side, weaving between defenders, tagging as many as possible while holding his breath. The moment he turned to retreat, the defenders lunged, attempting to drag him down before he could cross back to safety. Cheers and jeers echoed through the field as the match intensified.

  The atmosphere buzzed with energy, filled with the rhythmic thud of boots against dirt and the sharp exhations of exertion. Laughter and shouts of encouragement echoed across the grounds.

  Until a voice cut through the lively air like a bde.

  "Well, well, look who finally crawled out of his hole," Derrick drawled, striding forward with a few trainees in tow. "I was starting to think you'd grown a little too comfortable pying the prisoner."

  Zexusgo