"You... you plan to go there yourself?" Henderson asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Didn’t you hear what I told you? It’s mostly the automated bots that do the serving."
Blair pursed her lips. She had heard him loud and clear. Her husbands had also explicitly asked her to stay out of their way and not get involved.
But as she glanced up, a new glowing text window flickered into her vision:
[Secondary Mission: Personal Delivery & Consumption]
[Objective: Ensure at least one Deruno Husband consumes a home-cooked meal tonight.]
[Reward: +3 Days Lifespan Per Husband and Partial Vitality Restoration]
[Penalty for Failure: -1 Day Lifespan & Sudden Fatigue Spike]
She knew she just had to take this risk, even if it meant getting on their bad side. It was just a meal—how angry could they really get over a warm tray of food?
"I’ll deliver them, Chef Henderson," Blair said softly, taking a firm grip on the handle of the service cart. "If they get upset, I’ll take full responsibility. Please, just point me toward their wings."
Henderson looked at the small, fragile human girl standing so resolutely in front of the metal cart. He let out a long, heavy sigh, resigned to her quiet stubbornness.
"The East Wing belongs to Master Lukas," Henderson murmured, pointing toward the double doors leading out of the kitchen. "Master Philippe’s quarters occupy the entire West Wing ground floor for accessibility, and Master Sebastian’s suite is on the top floor."
"Thank you, Chef Henderson."
Blair offered him a small, polite nod, gripped the polished handle of the rolling cart, and carefully pushed it out into the quiet marble hallway.
Her heart hammered rhythmically against her chest as she looked at the three covered silver trays.
Honestly, she was scared. Scared that they would take a good look at the trays and call it dirty. Scared that they would get pissed and have her punished for already crossing the line on the first day.
All of it was a rejection that would sting at her heart, not just deduct a day or her life. But if she wanted to survive, she couldn’t just stay hidden in her room.
She paused at the foot of the wide hallway, staring down the split paths of the estate. The East Wing was closest—Lukas’s territory. The fox with hyper-sensitive beast ears who hated noise, sharp smells, and unexpected intrusions.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, Blair wheeled the silent rubber-tired cart toward the East Wing, ready to face her first husband.
The corridor of the East Wing grew darker with every step Blair took. Unlike the bright, polished grandeur of the main foyer, Lukas’s wing was shrouded in dim, ambient lighting.
The air was heavy with a suffocating silence—a deliberate environment built to protect a fox pureblood whose hyper-sensitive ears picked up the faint hum of electrical wiring as if it were a roar.
Blair stopped in front of a pair of heavy, soundproofed doors. Taking a quiet breath, she didn’t knock. Knowing even a sharp rap against wood might trigger a neural spike, she gently pressed the silent call button beside the frame.
A second later, the door swung open with a rush of cool, dark air.
Lukas stood in the doorway, tall, disheveled, and radiating pure, explosive tension. His messy hair was flattened in places, and his sharp, white fox ears were twitched backward in irritation. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, making his bright, golden gaze look dangerously unhinged.
He opened his mouth, ready to unleash his fury on whatever fool had dared disturb him, but as his eyes landed on her meek, fragile frame, his pointed ears actually fell for a second in surprise.
"I thought I told you to stay out of my way," Lukas growled, his raspy voice tight with tension. His ears flattened hard against his head as he winced at the tiny sound of the service cart’s rubber wheels. "Why are you at my door?"
"I’m sorry!" Blair blurted out instantly, shrinking back half a step and pulling her hands tight against her chest. "I—I’m so sorry to disturb you..."
It was a reflex. Many years with a family that has turned on her, and two years with Jason... It was a lifetime of being treated like an unwanted, useless burden and it had trained her to apologize before she even thought about what she did wrong—a defense mechanism built from years of verbal and physical hostility.
Lukas blinked, taken aback for a second by how quickly she cowered. He had expected every woman, human or beast, to do the same and start demanding his attention or throw a fit as soon as they walked in through the front door—not collapse into a ball of quiet terror at a single harsh word.
Still, his forehead stayed creased in a deep, painful frown as a throbbing headache pulsed behind his temples.
"You haven’t answered me. What do you want?" He asked harshly.
"Chef Henderson said you hadn’t eaten," Blair added hastily, her voice dropping to a quiet, timid whisper as she reached down and uncovered the silver tray. "So, I made you something. There are no sharp spices, no sizzles, and no artificial flavorings. Just soft, warm porridge. I’m sorry if the smell bothers you..."
Lukas’s nostrils flared slightly.
Usually, the automated synthetic nutrient packs delivered to his room reeked of harsh, artificial chemical stabilizers that sent sharp neural spikes straight into his brain. He never refused them because if he did not live on that, what could he possibly live off?
But this... was completely clean? It smelled of mild, earthy mushrooms, gently steamed grains, and a soothing, natural warmth that didn’t assault his senses.
Even so, his pride kicked in. He crossed his arms, his sharp fox tail lashing behind him in bitter irritation. "I don’t need a human playing servant for me."
"I’m sorry," she whispered again, bowing her head slightly, though she held the tray steady with quiet, unwavering persistence. "Consider it a quiet transaction." She dared to say. "If you accept it, I’ll disappear back to my room and leave you to your peace. But it’s fine if you also throw it out, I promise I won’t pester you again tonight."