Chapter 255: Carelessness

"A sudden storm grounded us two days ago in the high crags," Seraphina explained. "Zero visibility, lightning tearing the ridges apart. Cinon advised us to set up an emergency encampment until dawn. We were entirely stalled... until the rings on these three began to burn red."

She gestured toward the girls.

"The moment that distress flare detonated, the storm ceased to exist for them," Seraphina said, a faint note of lingering awe in her tone. "Lady Norelia bypassed the atmospheric lightning with continuous defensive barriers, and Emma rode ahead through the gale like a phantom. They dragged us through the mountain pass by sheer willpower."

Eren stared at her, genuinely baffled. "Wait a second... hold on. The ring only signaled two days ago. That means you guys were already on the way to Rujgard. How on earth did you know I was in Rujgard in the first place?!"

Seraphina gave a light, dismissive shrug, leaning her head back against the carriage leather.

"You can thank yet another woman in your absurd, terrifying orbit for that," she drawled, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, Volsver, why does every single female in your proximity have to be a generational anomaly?"

Eren blinked. "Which girl? Who are you talking about?"

"That red-haired commoner girl," Seraphina replied cleanly. "That one girl calling herself your maid."

"Mira...?" Eren breathed, the name slipping out in total disbelief. "Mira figured out Rujgard?"

"In a single night," Seraphina confirmed, a rare glint of genuine professional respect touching her ruby eyes. "While we all scratched our heads over broken teleportation runes, that maid of yours analyzed Baron Kiliyan’s offshore debt restructuring, and calculated that the only territory they would transport barons to is Rujgard based on the situation."

"Honestly, what’s the best place to send a guy who knows information about The Substance to keep his mouth shut while we’re out there hunting him? The lawless territory."

Seraphina shook her head, letting out a dry, disbelieving breath.

"She looked me dead in the eye and told me that if I didn’t mobilize immediately, she would liquidate your private assets and stocks to hire a mercenary army herself."

Eren sat frozen beneath his sleeping girlfriends, his mind spinning at the sheer, terrifying brilliance of his sugar baby.

***

The stream of steaming water drummed against the tiled floor of the bath chamber, wrapping the opulent suite in a thick, fragrant fog of eucalyptus and wintermint.

Having cleared the border ridges by midnight, Seraphina had secured them the grandest hotel rooms of the finest merchant inn in the valley. A sprawling, gilded sanctuary with plush carpets, velvet drapery, and a marble bath that felt like sheer paradise compared to the blood-slicked flagstones of Rujgard.

Eren stood beneath the showerhead, his palms planted against the smooth ceramic tiles.

The heat stung every bruise, his stitched cheek.

He closed his eyes, letting the water wash the lingering copper stench from his scalp.

Rujgard was over. Even if the three thousand scavengers didn’t tear each other to pieces over the vacant thrones, it was only a matter of weeks before the Valdora Kingdom and the Regulus Empire marched their legions in to partition the territory. That cesspool would burn itself out.

That wasn’t what was chewing at his marrow.

Carelessness...

He had swaggered into this world playing three-dimensional chess, convinced that having a few fragmented blueprints of the future meant he had the universe dancing on his strings. But Silas had dragged him kicking and screaming into the cold, vicious dirt of reality.

Eren curled his right hand into a fist, lightly rapping his knuckles against the wet tile in quiet, burning frustration.

’Never again,’ he swore to the rising steam. ’No more half-cocked arrogance. If this world wants to play executioner, I’ll need to become something far sharper than a clever rogue with borrowed time.’

He let out a breath, exhaling the tension from his lungs. Turning off the valve, he dried off and slipped into a bathrobe, tying the sash with casual grace.

Running a towel through his damp hair, Eren stepped out into the bedroom, casually humming a tune under his breath to convince himself he was entirely fine.

He froze mid-step.

The cheerful tune died instantly in his throat.

Sitting squarely on the edge of the massive bed was his tanned girlfriend.

Emma sat leaning slightly forward, her elbows resting on her knees; she wore a sleeveless tank top, revealing her toned body. Her pink hair was loose now, tumbling over her tanned shoulders, and her storm-grey eyes were locked onto his face with the intensity of an apex predator watching a deer step into a clearing.

Every survival instinct in Eren’s body began screaming in panic.

He swallowed, offering a ridiculously innocent, sheepish smile as he tightened his bathrobe.

"Hey there, captain," Eren chirped, testing the structural integrity of his charm. "You look... well-rested. Lovely room, isn’t it? Very plush."

Emma didn’t blink. The silence in the room stretched.

Eren cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward the empty couches. "So, uh... where might Lady Reedings and our dear Professor be at this particular hour?"

"Downstairs," Emma answered flatly. "Having dinner."

Eren leaned slightly against the wooden doorframe, clutching the lapels of his bathrobe like a modest maiden facing an invading barbarian. "So... you’re not going downstairs to eat?"

Emma let out a long, deflated breath as she flopped backward onto the massive mattress, staring up at the ceiling with hollow storm-grey eyes.

"Not hungry," she muttered, her voice dull.

Eren exhaled. The comedic dread vanished, replaced by a quiet, stinging ache. He crossed the room and gently sat on the mattress beside her.

He looked down at her tanned, exhausted face. Even in the soft lamplight, the strain of the past week clung to her like a shadow—hollow cheeks, chapped lips, the faint tremble of a warrior whose adrenaline had finally run out of fuel.

"You haven’t eaten a proper meal in days, captain," Eren said softly. He reached down, lightly closing his fingers around her wrist. "Come on. Let’s go down."

Emma yanked her arm back.

"I said I’m not hungry, damn it!" she snapped, rolling onto her side with her back turned completely toward him, curling her knees slightly inward to shut him out.

Eren didn’t flinch. He just pulled his legs up onto the mattress, wrapping his arms around his shins and resting his chin on his knees.

"Well, then," Eren murmured with stubborn, theatrical resolve. "If my Captain refuses to have dinner, her boyfriend goes on a hunger strike too. Mutual starvation. Very romantic. Very tragic."

He sat there in the quiet room, keeping vigil over her rigid back. And, because he was still fundamentally himself, his blue eyes took a brief, appreciative detour over the trousers hugging the lethal, sculpted curve of her ass. Even in the middle of an emotional breakdown, that athletic build is genuinely doing the Lord’s work.

The suffocating silence dragged on.

Then, a ragged, muffled murmur broke from the pillows.

"Why do you even care?"