Lucien’s footsteps stopped in front of a peeling paint wooden door.
Around him, the alleys of the capital’s commoner district were silent, dimly lit by the dimming streetlights.
As soon as Aryosha knocked on the door three times with a certain rhythm, the sound of the latch being pulled from inside was loud.
“Aryosha?” A woman’s hoarse voice greeted him as the door swung open.
The mother immediately hugged her son tightly, followed by his father and his cheerful younger brother.
“You’re home, son!
Why are you here so late—” The mother’s words suddenly stopped.
Their eyes landed on the figure of a teenager with snow-white hair and piercing red eyes standing right behind Aryosha.
Even though Lucien was already wearing the robes and commoner’s clothes he had brought, his overly clean physique, flawless skin, and body posture that had never been touched by hard work made his aristocratic aura radiate in stark contrast.
“T-This…” Aryosha’s father swallowed hard, his body immediately stiffening.
“Who is this noble young man, Aryosha?
Why did you bring a noble’s son to a slum like this?” Aryosha scratched his un-itchy head, at a loss for an explanation.
“H-he’s Young Master Lucien, Duke Hawthorne’s son.
We’re in the same class.” “Y-Young Master Lucien?!” his brother whispered in horror, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
But his gaze never left Lucien, his eyes sparkling.
“But what if we’re accused of kidnapping the Duke’s son?
We could be hanged!” Aryosha hurriedly waved his hands, panicking to death.
“No!
That’s not it!
He wasn’t a kidnap victim, but…
um, he wanted to come here himself!” Amidst the family’s panic, Lucien simply yawned widely.
“You don’t need to worry about that.
I’m Lucien.
You don’t have to be so formal with me.
I’m just here to freeload some sleep and food.
I hope you don’t mind.” Hearing that, the family—who had been initially worried but couldn’t bear to refuse him—finally allowed him to stay overnight.
That night, as they were busy packing up their noodle preparations for the next day’s sale at the festival grounds, the atmosphere at home suddenly became tense.
Aryosha’s father and mother paced back and forth, carrying basins and pots with slightly trembling hands.
It was just about time for dinner, and they had been waiting for Aryosha to come home to eat the rest of the watery vegetable soup.
But this time, Lucien joined them for dinner.
When a bowl of warm soup with a few thin slices of meat was placed in front of Lucien, Aryosha’s mother squeezed the corners of her apron anxiously.
“M-Young Master Lucien…
Forgive us.
Food like this definitely doesn’t suit the tastes of a noble like you…” Aryosha eyed Lucien’s plate warily.
However, Lucien—who was essentially an orphanage child accustomed to eating anything to survive—was completely unfazed.
Without hesitation, he scooped up his food and devoured it calmly.
“Delicious.
Just the right taste,” Lucien muttered dryly, swallowing his food without protest.
Aryosha’s family was stunned.
They thought the youngest son of Duke Hawthorne, accustomed to a life of luxury, would surely throw the bowl in disgust.
However, seeing how uncomplicated Lucien was, they immediately looked at the teenager with amazement, considering the young master to have an unreasonable level of humility.
Aryosha’s brother who was sitting next to him whispered to him.
“Brother, is he really a noble?
He doesn’t look arrogant like other nobles.” Aryosha just nodded, confirming his brother’s words.
As the night wore on, a new problem arose.
The small house had only a cramped space, with a single, thin kapok mattress on the floor in each room.
Aryosha’s scholarship dormitory mattress at the academy was far more comfortable than his own mattress at home.
Aryosha swallowed hard, awkwardly offering his bed.
“Y-Young Master—I mean Lucien, you can sleep on my bed.
I’ll sleep on the floor…” Normally, a noble would be embarrassed or at least polite about refusing to sleep in a commoner’s cramped quarters.
But Lucien didn’t.
Without hesitation, he immediately lay down on the cotton mattress, pulled the thin blanket over him, and closed his eyes.
“Thank you.
Don’t make any noise, I’m going to sleep,” Lucien said briefly, immediately getting into the most comfortable position possible.
Aryosha stared fixedly at Lucien’s back.
Instead of feeling upset that his room had been taken, Aryosha felt incredibly flattered.
The young master was not at all disgusted by his house, making Lucien’s position in the eyes of their family soar high to become a humble noble who did not act much.
****** Very early in the morning, even before the sun had time to fully rise in the sky of the capital, the Aryosha family was already busy noisily unloading their cargo.
They carried large pots, portable stoves, bowls, and various fresh noodle ingredients onto carts to be quickly taken to their stalls in the busy festival vendor area.
In the corner of the room, Lucien stood with his eyes half-closed, yawning widely as he dragged his steps.
His face expressed a furious protest against the universe that had forced him to wake up at this unreasonable hour.
Meanwhile, in other places, the world seems so far away.
In a magnificent academy dormitory room, a black-haired young man stood right in front of a large mirror staring into his hazel eyes.
He adjusted his collar, sprayed on some perfume, and smiled confidently at his reflection.
Today was the big day for the “chance date” he had planned.
In a different wing of the dormitory building, a girl with soft hair smoothed the ribbon on her dress with trembling fingers in anticipation.
A sweet smile never left her lips; she couldn’t wait to spend this precious day with the teenager she always considered her younger brother.
However, the false peace was shattered in the corridor of another dormitory.
A young man with dark brown hair walked in with a spare key in his hand.
As was his morning habit, Reichardt opened his brother’s door without knocking, intending to check on Lucien before class started.
The door opened.
The room was empty.
The bed was neatly made, without the slightest trace of a human body.
Reichardt’s heart seemed to stop beating.
His breath suddenly quickened.
“Lucien…?” he called out in a trembling voice.
“Where are you?
Don’t joke with me, this isn’t funny!” He checked the bathroom, the closet, and then jogged to his desk.
There was no one there.
There was only a sheet of white paper pinned to the center of the desk.
With trembling hands, Reichardt snatched it up and read its contents: Reichardt, I’m going into town to spend the weekend with my classmates.
Don’t look for me, don’t follow me, and enjoy your time at the academy.
—Lucien.
“A…
classmate?” Reichardt whispered, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.
All the blood in his body suddenly rushed to his head.
His mind immediately ran wild with worst-case scenarios—that his brother might be kidnapped, held captive, or poisoned by strangers outside the academy.
Absolute panic gripped his chest.
Without wasting a second, Reichardt turned and ran out of the room, screaming hysterically for his brother, determined to drag away any classmate who dared to take Lucien from his side.
“Lucien?!”