"... looks like my mother," Lucas continued.

Silvara flinched slightly.

Like his mother…? His real mother? the thought crossed her mind reflexively.

For some reason, her chest felt much lighter. Her breathing flowed without weight. Even her head felt empty—light in a strange way.

"A— ah… really?" Silvara said, a little flustered.

Lucas nodded faintly.

"Yeah."

Silvara opened her mouth, then closed it again. The words came out before she properly put them together.

"Then… your mother must have been a good person," she said quickly. "I mean— someone with a face like that usually— ah, I mean—"

She stopped. A slight mental error.

Lucas simply nodded again.

Silvara swallowed, then continued, this time more composed—at least, it sounded that way to her own ears.

"And she must've been amazing too," she said. "Like Lady Matruska."

Lucas shrugged.

"Maybe."

Silvara let out a small snort, then a short laugh, trying to cover her own awkwardness.

"I'm kind of curious now," she said half-jokingly.

"I hope I can meet your mother someday, just to confirm the resemblance. Hahaha."

Lucas gave a small smile and glanced toward the window.

The sky was already fully dark. He let out a long breath—then fell silent.

Silvara frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "What is it?"

Lucas looked back at her.

"Ah… it's nothing," he replied quickly.

The corner of his lips lifted—a thin smile, clearly forced.

"Let me correct my words," he added quietly.

Silvara grew more confused.

"Huh?"

Lucas closed his eyes for a moment.

Then opened them again, staring up at the ceiling.

"Her face looks like my late mother's," he said, with a small smile and a faint chuckle that sounded like it had been dragged out of him.

Silvara's eyes widened briefly at his words. She lowered her head slightly.

"…oh," she said, her voice soft.

The room fell silent.

Ah… this is getting awkward, Lucas thought.

He let out a slow breath, then turned slightly toward Silvara.

"Can you… leave for now?" he said. "I want to rest."

Silvara didn't answer right away.

She just looked at Lucas for a moment, then gave a small nod.

"Alright," she said shortly. "I'll take my leave."

She stood up from the chair.

Without looking back, Silvara walked out of the room.

Her expression was stiff.

Once the door closed, the room fell silent again.

Lucas shifted his body, about to lie down.

Just as his back touched the pillow—

[Ding!]

[Yooo… King! (≧▽≦)]

Lucas jolted.

"Shi—" he swallowed the curse. "Damn… thought it was something else."

He exhaled, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"What now?" he asked flatly.

[Now is.... (￣▽￣) Perfect timing. For notification time. ]

—

Lucas lifted his body and sat up again.

"Hm… this chatbot really has a sense for timing," he muttered.

"Alright then. Let's see the notifications."

[Ding! (☆ω☆)]

Several notification windows popped up one after another in front of him.

[EXP ACQUIRED]

+150

+120

—

The numbers kept increasing.

Lucas frowned.

"The hell… that's a lot."

[LEVEL UP]

Level 5 → Level 6

[LEVEL UP]

Level 6 → Level 7

----

Lucas let out a short breath.

"Two levels…"

He squinted as he read the next line.

[PROGRESSION POINTS]

+100

—

Lucas stared at the system screen for a long moment.

"That's pretty big," he murmured.

He rubbed his face with one hand.

"Guess getting beat up like that wasn't for nothing. Show me my current stats."

[Understood, My Lord (｀・ω・´)]

[STATUS UPDATE (≧◡≦)]

Level: 7

Strength: 10

Agility: 11

Stamina: 9

Mana: 12

Total EXP: 690 / 700

Total PP: 222

Lucas stared at the numbers for a few seconds.

Then—

[Ding!]

A new notification appeared.

[REPUTATION POINTS]

+60

---

"Huh…?" Lucas raised an eyebrow.

[(￣ー￣)√ This notification was supposed to pop up earlier. But you passed out in the arena first.]

—

Lucas let out a quiet sigh. "Hm…"

He leaned back slightly. "If the earlier +10 was probably from Geralt. He's already working, and I pay him well."

Lucas's gaze returned to the screen.

"This one… +60. From who, exactly?"

His mind moved quickly.

Other commoners?

Or—

[ (・_・;)

King. That's not important.]

Lucas frowned.

"Huh?"

[ (￣▽￣) Try looking at the negative side first. ]

Lucas swallowed.

His eyes dropped to the very bottom line.

[REPUTATION POINTS]

-9,999,999 → -9,999,929

—

Lucas gave a bitter grin.

"…God damn it," he muttered quietly.

Meanwhile, as the bandage-covered man muttered to himself—

Silvara stood in her room, staring out the window.

The night sky stretched out in calm silence—too calm for her scattered thoughts.

I shouldn't have spoken carelessly earlier, she thought.

Or made those weird assumptions… let alone talked like an idiot.

Her hand slowly clenched at her side.

That image surfaced again.

Lucas's smile.

Thin.

Stiff.

Forced.

Lips that lifted not because he wanted to—

but because he had to.

Silvara's chest felt slightly tight.

She let out a breath, but the unease didn't fade.

Why did I joke around…

She lowered her head a little, her gaze falling to the floor.

Do I need to apologize? she wondered.

The question lingered.

While Lucas and Silvara were each lost in their own thoughts—

two paths that never truly met since day one—

time continued to move.

In the distance, beneath the same night sky, shadows began to gather.

Bandits.

They were the Full Moon Hand.

They didn't know.

Not a single piece of news had reached them that Aldric had been arrested.

To them, there was only the agreement—

a deal with Aldric that was supposed to still be in effect.

At a dark encampment, a large-built man stood near a campfire.

Kuyiras.

Their leader.

His rough hands wiped the blade of the sword resting on his lap.

The weapon was thicker and broader than the swords typically used by knights.

Kuyiras slowly raised the sword.

The reflection of the full moon fell along its blade.

He smiled.

Time passed.

One by one, members of the Full Moon Hand mounted their horses.

The creak of saddles.

The clink of metal.

The heavy breathing of horses in the night air.

Kuyiras rode at the front.

He swung himself up into the saddle, pulled the reins, then looked back.

His grin spread—wild.

"Let us offer sprays of blood and chunks of flesh to the moonlight that has always watched over us," he said.

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