The scent of something warm and savory filled the air, gently pulling Evelyn from her sleep. She blinked, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
It took her a moment to process the unfamiliar yet inviting aroma. Someone was cooking.
Still groggy, she stepped out of her room and followed the scent to the kitchen. But the moment she reached the doorway, she froze.
Lucien was cooking.
The glow from the window cast a soft light over him, making the scene almost surreal. He moved with quiet precision, his hands skillfully chopping vegetables and controlling the heat of the stove with ease.
Evelyn couldn't believe what she was seeing. Lucien—the same person who took down assassins without hesitation—was now standing in a kitchen, calmly preparing breakfast.
"…I didn't know you could cook."
Lucien turned slightly. "I can."
"That's not an answer."
Lucien didn't respond, simply setting down two plates before her.
Evelyn hesitated before taking a seat. She looked at the meal in front of her—rice, grilled fish, and miso soup.
Just the aroma alone made her stomach tighten. But when she took her first bite—
Her breath caught in her throat.
This taste…
Her eyes widened. It was too familiar.
Just like her mother's cooking.
A strange, bittersweet feeling crept into her chest. It had been years since she'd tasted something like this. Memories from her childhood surfaced—her mother standing by the stove, humming softly, the warmth of home wrapping around her like a gentle embrace.
Lucien noticed the shift in her expression. "Something wrong?"
Evelyn swallowed, shaking her head slightly.
"…My mom used to make something like this," she murmured.
Lucien remained silent.
"She passed away when I was young," Evelyn continued, her voice softer now. "I don't remember a lot… but I still remember how her food tasted."
She set down her chopsticks, looking up at Lucien. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
Lucien was quiet for a moment before answering. "I don't know."
Evelyn frowned. "What do you mean you don't know?"
Lucien's fingers slightly tightened around his chopsticks. It was the truth.
"…I don't remember ever having parents," he finally said.
Evelyn's breath hitched. She stared at him, eyes searching his expression for any trace of hesitation—but there was none.
For some reason, hearing him say that made something ache inside her. He had no memories of a family, no recollection of a mother's warmth, a father's guidance… nothing.
Before she even realized what she was doing, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Lucien stiffened.
Evelyn held onto him tightly, her head resting against his shoulder. "…I'm sorry," she whispered. "That's… so cruel."
Lucien didn't respond, his body still rigid from the unexpected embrace. But his mind—
His mind was suddenly flooded with something unfamiliar.
A memory.
A blurry vision of a warm embrace.
A soft, distant voice calling out to him.
"Lucien… my little warrior…"
The image was hazy, but the warmth was real. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something buried deep within him.
And for the first time in years, Lucien felt… lost.
End of Chapter 28.