Thunk. Thunk. Thud!
Everyone from Penguin Logistics—except Texas—felt their hearts drop at the exact same moment.
Lucian hadn't expected this either. Angelina had come all the way here… to deliver a letter to Texas.
And considering Angelina was from Siracusa, and Texas was also from Siracusa, the sender could only be someone connected to that place.
But Texas's past was not something bright or cheerful.
Lucian's secrets ran deep, yes—but those were political. Texas's past was far uglier.
Angelina, knowing none of this, stood there with pure, innocent eyes, just faithfully doing her job as a courier.
Exusiai and Croissant exchanged a lightning-fast glance—then moved at the exact same time.
Exusiai said, "Texas! Come play that game with me! You know, the one where you slice enemies to pieces with a lightsaber! I can hit the exact organs I want with a Gun, but with a sword I never slice cleanly. Come teach me!"
Croissant latched onto Angelina. "Ange, Ange! Let's go set up a night stall! I've collected tons of junk—ah, I mean valuable trinkets! Lungmen nights are wild, you'll meet all kinds of weirdos! And if you sell the fur you shed brushing your tail, you'll make a fortune! I'm so jealous of you fluffy types!"
Fake. Fake as hell.
But they were trying hard to steer the conversation away, dragging Texas and Angelina in opposite directions like nothing had happened.
Angelina, confused, let it happen.
Texas? Not a chance.
She slipped past Exusiai with effortless grace and caught—Angelina's hand.
Or rather, the letter in her hand.
"I'll take it. Thank you."
Texas was surprisingly calm. Too calm, in fact.
Exusiai and Croissant both froze, unable to tell what was going on.
Then Texas grabbed Exusiai's hand. "Weren't we playing a game? I'll teach you personally. Go turn the console on."
Exusiai's eye twitched. "Uhh… if you 'teach me personally,' Texas, my shoulders and back will snap… Uuugh. Lucian, Lucian, save meeee," she pleaded with tearful puppy eyes.
Sorry. Can't save you.
Lucian pressed his palms together and silently prayed for her for two seconds. If he had to guess, she wouldn't be able to get out of bed for the rest of the day.
Then he pretended nothing was wrong and waved at Croissant. "Didn't you want to take Angelina to set up a stall? Go on. But come home early today. And keep her away from the Lungmen Guard Department—don't let her get into trouble."
"Roger!"
Croissant knew when to take the cue. She grabbed Angelina to get her ready.
Angelina, though innocent, wasn't stupid—she sensed the weird tension in the air earlier.
So she asked anxiously, "Mr. Sinclair… did I do something wrong?"
Lucian smiled. "No worries. Maybe before, but now? It's fine."
After the girls scattered to do their own things, Lucian entered his full "mom mode."
He cleaned the living room, gathered their empty snack bags and cups, then washed the bathroom, then collected their clothes and started the laundry.
And here he had to praise Angelina's good upbringing.
The women of Penguin Logistics had zero feminine habits. No matter how many times Lucian scolded them, none of them ever folded their clothes. They'd toss outerwear and underwear into the laundry basket in a single messy pile—no charm, no appeal, just chaos.
Angelina alone folded everything neatly and even hid her underwear beneath her clothes in a cute, shy way that let Lucian practically picture her embarrassed expression.
Angelina was adorable. Truly worthy of being called an Angel.
After that, Lucian went to his room, drew blood like usual, refilled the sugar machine, and checked the supplies for opening the shop tomorrow.
Only when everything was finished did he stretch his shoulders and return to the living room—where Texas was once again lying on the couch eating Pocky.
Lucian sat by her legs. "Brush your teeth before bed. Where's El?"
"Collapsed."
Texas bit down on a Pocky stick with a sharp snap. "Her stamina is awful. I only went through a warm-up and she was already foaming at the mouth with her tongue out."
Lucian chuckled. "Don't be fooled by the way she acts. In Laterano she's considered one of the physically strongest types. And she's excellent at Originium Arts with a Gun. If she'd stayed in Laterano, she would've been promoted to a top-ranked Holy Warrior Angel before she turned twenty."
Texas blinked curiously. "I don't really get Angel hierarchy. Is that like… military rank?"
"More or less."
Lucian spoke casually. "Laterano doesn't really have wars between nations. The border guards are all Liberi squads. Internal Angel criminals are handled by special agents from the Notarial Hall. The only large-scale war Angels ever fight is religious holy war… Ah, this topic's boring. Sorry, sorry."
He cut himself off quickly and laughed it away, resting one hand—very casually—near Texas's thigh.
Texas clearly saw he was changing the subject on purpose.
But she didn't push.
Just like she had secrets, she knew Lucian and Exusiai did too.
Penguin Logistics got along well because everyone respected each other's invisible boundaries. Close, but never pushing past what the other didn't want touched.
Texas lifted her leg and laid it across Lucian's lap—long, slender, wrapped in black tights.
Lucian's breathing instantly grew heavier.
"You're not asking me who sent the letter?" she asked lightly.
"Huh? Your legs are so slim…"
The man's brain was already 80% leg.
Texas rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb. One Croissant is enough."
Lucian laughed. "I'm not playing dumb. If you wanted to talk about it, you would've said something when El and Croissant were still here."
"I only want to say it now."
Texas's amber eyes locked onto his, steady and intense. "I don't want to tell them. I want to tell you."
"…Alright."
Lucian took a slow breath, his expression turning serious. "Texas… who sent that letter? Does it affect you badly?"
"I don't know." She shook her head. "Whoever sent it probably expected me to react dramatically. But I don't feel anything. I'm surprised myself."
Texas handed him the letter without hesitation.
It was handwritten—a rarity these days.
The fountain pen ink still had a faint fragrance. The handwriting was elegant and precise, the kind only someone with a refined education could produce.
Lucian read the entire thing carefully. Then he said, earnestly:
"Texas… I can't read a single word of this. What is this even written in?"
"......Ugh."
Texas instantly regretted expecting this man to maintain even a shred of atmosphere.