Tristan didn’t need any other evidence to understand that there was a camera hidden in the room. Which meant someone was watching him.
Thinking on his feet for a quick, easy solution, he turned his attention inward.
"Lysander. Can you help with this?"
Her voice came back more serious than usual.
"This matter is beyond the System’s current jurisdiction, Host. You will have to take the lead on it. I can offer support where necessary, but I cannot resolve it for you." Lysander maintained firmly.
Tristan ran a hand through his hair and let out a short, frustrated breath. The hidden camera, the real-time messages, the seventy-two-hour deadli
Getting a threat of 72 hours deadline for what he knew nothing about, and knowing that he was being watched didn’t sit well with him at all. His eyes scanned around the room... He even stood up and peered at where he knew cameras could be hidden but it was a futile endeavor.
"Who is behind this?"
"What do they want from Vincent?"
"What exactly has Vincent done?"
After a moment he forced his shoulders to relax. There was still time. Sleeping first would be more useful than standing around exhausting himself with questions that had no immediate answers.
He stood, gathered a change of clothes, and went into the bathroom. Even as he stepped under the warm water, the uncomfortable thought refused to leave completely. Someone might be watching him right now. The idea made his skin feel tight.
His eyes scanned the four corners of the small bathroom but still he couldn’t see anything. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to exhale then began to wash quickly.
When he was done, he got dressed quickly and went straight to bed, purposely ignoring the corners of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning, the System’s ding pulled him out of sleep.
"Good morning, Host," Lysander greeted. "I hope you rested well."
"Yeah, yeah" Tristan answered. He sat up slowly. His body felt noticeably better than the previous night, when he had collapsed onto the bed still sore and drained from chasing Nadia across half the neighborhood.
He got up and walked into the bathroom. As he walked, the system notifications was in his vision. While standing in front of the mirror, he raised his head to look up the System notifications. A panel was showing;
┌─────────────────────────
│ RELATIONSHIP METERS │
├────────────
│ NADIA BELLROSE
│ ─────────────────────────
│ Attraction 0%
│ Craving 0%
│ Submission 0%
│ Obsession 0%
│
│ TALIA MOON
│ ────────────────────────
│ Attraction 0%
│ Craving 0%
│ Submission 0%
│ Obsession 0%
│
│ CORA BOONE │
│ ─────────────────────
│ Attraction 0%
│ Craving 0%
│ Submission 0%
│ Obsession 0%
│
└────────────────────────
None of the meters had moved. He closed the panel without comment.
A new window replaced it almost immediately.
**[Daily Task]**
1. Engage in intensive exercise for thirty minutes.
2. Make breakfast for your wives.
**Reward:** Basic Seasoning Kit + $2,000 + 20 System Points
**Penalty for failure:** Frequent uncontrollable sneezing fits
Tristan stared at the penalty and let out a low, annoyed sound.
"Sneezing fits for a man that learnt proper manners? You really enjoy embarrassing me, don’t you?" he muttered under his breath.
"I’ll complete it. Definitely." he added, sounding like he was assuring one part of his mind which felt unsure.
Cook? He knew everything except that. But for that penalty, he had to succeed.
He pulled off his shirt and paused when he caught his reflection. The Body Refinement Pill was already showing early results. The softness around his jawline had reduced slightly. His face looked firmer, a little sharper than the day before. The change was still minor, but it was visible enough to notice. A small sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.
Then his gaze darkened as the memory of the previous night’s messages returned. The seventy-two hours was already running and there was a camera hidden somewhere in the room.
"I have a lot to deal with, today." He mumbled under his breath.
He decided to start with the exercise first. He walked out of the bathroom in just the jogger he had wore to sleep and settled on the ground for the exercise.
"Lysander, can you help me with the countdown?" He called out. The system panel opened immediately at the request and a timer appeared.
~~~~~~~~~
Thirty minutes later, he was done with the exercise and stepped into the shower. There, he let the water run over his head and shoulders, using the time to organize his thoughts. By the time he finished and dressed, his expression had gone from a scowl and settled back into its usual controlled state - a calm demeanor.
When he walked out into the living room, It was still early so the space was empty and quiet. He continued into the kitchen and found Cora standing at the sink.
Her wavy hair was messy and uncombed, clear evidence that she had not yet bathed. She was washing the dishes left from the previous evening with sharpness that seemed just too forced. Her shoulders were slouched slightly.
"Good morning," Tristan greeted in a low voice, trying to match the quietude of the moment.
Cora glanced over her shoulder and replied monotously; "Morning."
"I’ll be cooking breakfast today." Tristan announced.
She paused completely and turned to look at him, surprise flickering across her face for a brief moment. After a second she spoke in her usual sharp tone, very straight to the point.
"I can cook for you instead. You can just compensate me with money."
Tristan blinked then gave a short, low chuckle at the bluntness of her words, she wasn’t hiding her ambition at all, not a bit and the amusing part was she wasn’t shy about it. If anything, she looked very confident as if that was just a normal, logical thing everyone could demand for.
"No. I want to cook." he told her firmly.
Cora peered at him for a second longer, then shrugged, clearly deciding it was not worth arguing about. She dried her hands on a cloth and gave him a brief but thorough overview of the kitchen; showed him where the pans were kept, which drawers held the utensils, where the groceries from the day before had been stored, and how the stove functioned.
"What do the three of you usually eat for breakfast?" he asked.
"Sandwiches," Cora answered simply.
Tristan nodded. He had never cooked for himself or for anyone else before. In the palace, meals had always arrived already prepared. Still, he had watched the royal chefs work many times. The process had looked straightforward enough from a distance.
He drew a slow breath, rolled his shoulders once, and stepped up to the counter with quiet confidence.
"It should be manageable," he murmured to himself.
He reached for the first ingredients and began. But what he did next made Cora’s eyes widen in sudden alarm.
"Wait-!" she yelled.