How long does it take to upgrade from prisoner rations to a seat at the dinner table?
For Vivienne Cross —
one day.
One day was all she needed to crawl her way up from sipping bland nutrient packs in a cell to sitting openly in the crew dining hall, a plate of real food in front of her.
Leo Vaughn's little pet - That's what the Polaris pirates had started calling her behind her back. The Second Young Master had really lost his mind, they muttered. First sneaking her food, now openly parading her around like some stray he'd adopted.
"The food here's nothing special," Leo remarked casually, leaning back in his chair across from her. "But it's got to be better than those nutrient packs."
The cook behind the counter visibly stiffened but wisely held his tongue, only giving his spatula a vicious little shake.
Vivienne smiled sweetly as she took her seat beside Leo."Thank you, Leo. If it weren't for you—"
"Cut the crap. Eat." Leo's eyes flicked around the room, catching the stares. He glared them all back down. "Ignore them."
Vivienne wasn't about to complain. Being a walking scandal was better than being Anthony's punching bag.
Sure, she knew this new "favoritism" would only make her a bigger target, but she'd take it. At least she had hot food.
Small mercies.
Amen.
She had barely picked up her fork when Anthony's voice cut through the hall, sharp and mocking. "Well, look who's suddenly got an appetite. That little mental cleansing worked wonders, huh?"
Vivienne remained silent. Her "forbearance" made Leo Vaughn feel a bit subtly annoyed — she seemed too meek and easy to bully.
"Are all the rich people in the empire such wimps?"
"She's broke now, isn't she? Has to cling to a Guide just to stay alive."
One of his lackeys chimed in, "Brother Anthony is the one with real guts! A role model for us all!" "Unlike some weak and incompetent guys who can only hide behind the guide for protection."
Vivienne, mid-bite, paused "..."
Seriously?
Was this the best they could come up with?
This level of schoolyard bullying?
Unfortunately, it wasn't her they were baiting.
It was Leo. And he took the bait beautifully.
Leo leaned back lazily, voice sharp as a blade: "Not like some people — all bark, no bite, who can't even get a Guide to look twice at them."
Was he ever going to shut up?
Anthony's constant jabs at Vivienne weren't doing what he thought they were. All they did was piss Leo off.
Because under Polaris's unwritten rules, Vivienne Cross — fragile, half-broken, on the verge of spiraling into a Sentinel meltdown — was his spoil.
His mess to deal with. His problem.
Every time Anthony opened his damn mouth, he might as well have been slapping Leo across the face.
Meanwhile, sad "pathetic" Sentinel?
Vivienne sat there, cutting into her steak without a care in the world, perfectly content to enjoy the meal her "special privileges" had bought her.
And what privilege was that? Being Leo Vaughn's pretty little pet.
Anthony slammed his hand down on the table, face flushed. "You're out of line, kid. What, you think I won't hit you over some pathetic stray?"
Leo's blue eyes flicked up, cold and sharp. "I'm not the one crossing the line. And no — you won't."
The words barely left his mouth before Anthony slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to rattle the plates. "Son of a bitch!"
Vivienne stiffened, glancing nervously at Leo. Were they seriously about to throw hands in the middle of dinner? Wasn't this supposed to be the most "organized" pirate crew in the sector? They fought like drunken street rats.
Leo Vaughn looked every bit the pampered little princeling — no way in hell he could actually win a brawl against Anthony and his pack of attack dogs.
Vivienne shot him a glance, equal parts worried and exasperated.
He was about to get himself killed, and here she was, the metaphorical palace eunuch panicking while the emperor himself was still smirking.
She wouldn't dare step in. Not when crossing Leo might cost her far more than a few bruises.
Anthony spat, "You've got some nerve, you arrogant little shit!"
Leo fired back without missing a beat, "Better than having no shame at all."
Arguments were always a risky business. One snappy comeback was all it took for the air to electrify, turning what had begun as a petty spat into a full-blown, no-holds-barred showdown. The atmosphere went from zero to gang-war in a heartbeat.
Wait a damn minute—had she misread the situation entirely? Was the young master's supposed backup nothing more than a bluff?
Vivienne's brain scrambled desperately for an escape plan, because once fists started flying, she'd inevitably be collateral damage.
Leo was still on a roll: "Just who the hell do you think you are, huh? Aside from barking like a rabid dog, got any other tricks up your sleeve?"
Across the room, Anthony had already rolled up his sleeves and smashed a bowl onto the floor—"Well, since your daddy didn't bother, guess it's my turn to teach --- "
Suddenly, the room went dead silent. The chaos froze mid-air, and only Leo's face remained stormy, radiating a dangerous aura of imminent disaster. "Dare to repeat that little comment in front of Jasper Vaughn himself?" Leo Vaughn asked darkly, her voice like silk wrapped around a dagger.
No one dared breathe a response—not even Anthony, who begrudgingly dialed back his aggression. The sudden, eerie calm was unsettling, as if a raging storm had abruptly vanished, leaving behind a deceptive tranquility.
"What exactly is the fuss about?" a smooth, velvet-coated voice drawled lazily from just behind Vivienne.
Oh hell, thought Vivienne, her heart dropping straight to her boots, someone very important had just walked into the scene.
Anthony's voice switched from fury to syrupy sweet in a heartbeat. "Captain, we're just… sharing notes on handling prisoners. Second Young Master here seems to think they deserve three-course meals. What's your opinion?"
Captain? Captain of the Tianshu? Had to be one of Polaris' big shots.
Oh, please, Vivienne silently mocked, her mental eye-roll practically audible. Someone here's clearly been sipping far too much green tea—you positively reek of melodrama. "Oh? Is Second Young Master Yu suggesting that prisoners should be pampered and served gourmet meals now?" Hell, I suggest prisoners should be emperor, then!
Leo wasn't about to stomach that insult quietly. "You're the one who stirred this mess up first. Beidou doesn't have a habit of randomly abusing captives. Anthony, what exactly possessed you to act like a complete idiot?"
Anthony protested indignantly, "Second Young Master, don't twist the facts! She insulted me first. Why are you siding blindly with outsiders over your own people?"
"That's enough," Jasper Vaughn's deep, commanding voice sliced through the bickering, silencing the room immediately. He had enough headaches already—an impulsive, hot-tempered first mate bolstered by his veteran lineage, and a half-brother Guide whose safety had been explicitly entrusted to him by their stepfather. Neither of them was exactly easing the tension headache rapidly building behind his eyes.
"This conversation is over," Jasper announced firmly. "Leo, escort the prisoner back."
"We're approaching the border soon, and the Imperial forces have us under scrutiny," his tone brooked no arguments. "Anyone causing more trouble will answer directly to me—as a traitor."
"Dismissed."
...
Instantly, the brewing confrontation vanished like smoke. Anthony stormed off angrily, pirates scattered back to their posts, and Vivienne remained quiet as a mushroom, doing her absolute best impression of someone utterly invisible.
After all, pirate lairs weren't exactly vacation spots—less gawking, less talking, more surviving.
But for heaven's sake, why was this intimidating VIP suddenly standing so damn close to her?
Feeling the sharp, laser-focused stare practically burning holes into the side of her head, Vivienne decided playing ostrich any longer would verge on outright rudeness.
Slowly, deliberately, she placed her cutlery down and raised her gaze—only to find herself caught in a pair of penetrating blue eyes that mirrored Leo's precisely. The Vaughn family traits were annoyingly flawless: porcelain skin, aristocratic nose, dangerously sculpted lips that suggested a cruel charm.
The man had long, graceful fingers with clearly defined knuckles, the right index finger adorned with a silver ring set with a striking blue stone that matched his eyes perfectly. Taller, broader, and clearly used to commanding the room, he exuded a dangerous authority. A crisp white shirt tucked neatly into dark, military-style combat pants, legs tucked securely into polished boots—he was every inch the imposing leader.
—Sentinel. Alpha-level threat. Dangerously incompatible.
Vivienne felt a shiver run down her spine as she quickly classified him.
So Leo Vaughn really did have solid connections after all. Jasper Vaughn himself—now that was a serious backup.
And apparently, Jasper was sizing her up, too.