The house was still.
Lucius sat at the end of a long dining table, sipping tea that tasted more expensive than good.
Across from him, his father — Duke Valehart — read over a scroll with thinly veiled irritation.
"The report says you insulted a guest," the Duke said without looking up.
Lucius didn't flinch. "I tested him."
"Tested," his father echoed. "By calling him a rat-blooded mongrel and challenging him to a duel?"
Lucius frowned. "That wasn't me. That was the idiot who used to be in this body."
The Duke finally looked up.
Lucius coughed lightly. "What I meant was… I was overcome with emotion. I've since corrected the misunderstanding."
"By offering him protection?"
"Exactly," Lucius said, nodding. "It's a calculated investment."
The Duke narrowed his eyes. "In a commoner boy with no name, no land, and no future?"
"Not no future," Lucius said, taking another sip of tea. "He'll have one. I'll make sure of it."
The silence in the room grew heavy.
The Duke studied him a long moment. "You've changed."
Lucius smiled. "I'm finally thinking about the family's reputation, Father."
The Duke grunted. "For once."
Lucius gave a shallow bow and rose from his seat. "I'll handle the fallout."
"You'd better," the Duke said. "If your name is mentioned in another scandal this month, I'll send you to the borderlands myself."
Lucius walked out with grace.
In truth, he wasn't thinking about the family name.
He was thinking about Rowan.
The original story placed Rowan at the center of everything — conspiracies, rebellions, ancient relics, and enough magical beast attacks to make a dragon nervous. Wherever Rowan went, chaos followed.
Lucius had no intention of being on the wrong side of that.
If anything, he wanted to be far, far behind Rowan. Advising. Nudging. Watching.
From a safe, wine-rich distance.
Later That Evening
Lucius stood in the estate's guest garden, watching as the moonlight filtered over the marble paths. The air was still damp from the afternoon rain.
Rowan was there.
Leaning against a pillar. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
"You came," Lucius said.
"You summoned me," Rowan replied.
"I invited you."
"You sent a butler with two knights."
"A strong invitation, then."
Rowan's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
Lucius gave a theatrical sigh. "Peace. Stability. A future. Preferably one where I'm not bedridden by next week."
"…What?"
Lucius walked a few steps closer. "I know what I said earlier. It was stupid. I was stupid."
Rowan watched him carefully.
Lucius continued, "The truth is, I don't want to fight you. I want to work with you."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No," Lucius said. "But you should believe this: you've already proven you're stronger than me. I'd rather be on the side of the strong."
Rowan didn't answer.
Lucius tilted his head. "Besides… you're going to need someone like me."
"I don't need nobles."
"You will when the other ones come for your head."
That made Rowan pause.
Lucius smiled thinly.
"The world doesn't like people who rise too fast. Nobles especially. I've seen it before. The knives come out. Not in the open, no. In letters. In whispers. In poison."
Rowan said nothing.
Lucius turned toward the garden, his voice calm. "You're going to make enemies. It's inevitable. But I can help you manage them."
"And what do you want in return?" Rowan finally asked.
Lucius smiled.
"I want to survive this story."