To be clear, Lucian is usually a very frugal guy.
After all, he's basically a half-migrant worker in Lungmen, here to grind and make money. Someday he wants to chase down a wife, buy a house in the big cities up north, the whole dream.
If he can't save enough, he'll have no choice but to go home and inherit a population of a million people, continuing his sacred, untouchable life as the Holy Son.
So yeah—sure, he opened a little shop and the business is doing well, but at the end of the day he's still pure working class, and he's absolutely jealous of rich people.
Under circumstances like that, if some rich lady whipped out a stack of rainbow-colored black cards to buy him?
Lucian would have zero chance of refusing.
That's the cruelty of capitalism. Lucian can only lament its victims and scold their helplessness, then swallow the bitterness with a smile—
Swire: "I'm tired."
Lungmen's number one rich kid—the famous "Golden Cat with the Lion's Roar"—Swire was in her own mall today, strutting through the aisles in full heiress aura.
She lifted her chin and gestured at the Sankta carrying her luggage.
Lucian, written as Holy Son and read as personal assistant, immediately saluted and looked around for a nearby resting spot.
Lucian: "Swire, this way, please."
He set the luggage down and greeted her with a smile.
And today, Swire was not her usual self.
She'd swapped out the uniform she always used as casual clothes and slipped into a pure white spaghetti-strap dress. Her heels were white too.
Her shoulders and collarbone looked softer than silk, the kind of glow you only get after a fresh treatment at a high-end salon. With those shimmering gold curls, she looked like she could walk straight into the Queen of Victoria's birthday banquet.
With that "I'm going to eat you alive" look, she was clearly here to make Lucian fulfill his promise.
He had promised to go shopping with her.
But before he could follow through, the whole Angelina incident happened. He even lied to Swire, saying he and Exusiai were having a cute bento picnic in an Alley.
Of course she'd be pissed.
But Swire was a smart woman. Even if she'd been flustered and furious in the moment, her mind had switched gears fast.
Seriously—how could Lucian and Exusiai possibly be a thing?
Between that red-haired tomboy and, say, messing around with Ch'en Hui-chieh in an Interrogation Room, the latter was more believable.
If Lucian actually had the guts to break that thin layer between them, his future kids with Exusiai would be calling Swire "Auntie" already.
Swire had full confidence in her judgment. She immediately guessed Lucian was bluffing to throw off the Lungmen Guard Department.
And if so, then he must've helped the Infected they were hunting. Swire didn't mind that at all.
But understanding is one thing—anger is another.
Of all the excuses he could've used, he just had to tell her he'd been messing around with another woman. As if her feelings didn't matter.
So Swire made up her mind: today, she was going to peel off three layers of his skin. Let him learn the women of the Swire family are not to be messed with.
She didn't move an inch, eyes narrowing as she repeated, "I. Am. Tired."
…Hmm?
Lucian's 2048-core super deoxyribonucleic acid processor spun at full power, deciphering her riddle.
The resting area was barely ten meters ahead, but she refused to walk—her whole posture screaming, "I'm being cute on purpose, Lucian sweet big brother mwah ".
So what was he supposed to do? Teleport her there? That was divine-era grand magic.
Lucian got the message. He turned his back to her and crouched. "Please, Swire."
"…What are you doing?"
Swire stared at him suspiciously.
Lucian looked back. "Didn't you want me to carry you? Then hop on. Ah, but you're wearing a dress, right? Remember to pull it up a bit—don't just flop your legs down or you'll stretch—"
"You. Try. Playing. Dumb. Again!"
Swire's iron palms clamped onto Lucian's face and scrubbed like she wanted to erase him from existence.
Anyone could see Lucian was being ridiculous. Swire was wearing a dress, they were in public, and he still managed to conclude she wanted a piggyback instead of being carried bridal-style. Too much.
But Lucian did have his reasons.
"Listen to me! I actually have a real reason!"
When Swire reluctantly released him, Lucian hurried on, "I did think about it, okay? This is your family's mall, right? The most luxurious commercial center in Lungmen, right? The moment you stand here, you're free advertising. People have been staring since we came in."
Lucian grinned and waved at the onlookers who were trying not to stare too obviously.
After all, Swire's practically a celebrity in Lungmen—her popularity rivals idols.
"So," Lucian shrugged, "if I give you a piggyback, I'm just playing the loyal servant. But if I carry you in my arms, won't that spark rumors? You're the heiress of a major conglomerate and a Senior Inspector. Public and private, that's bad news."
It sounded so careful, so perfect, like the kind of excuse a lovestruck dog would make while hopelessly devoted to Swire.
But Swire had known this man long enough.
She raised a brow, not caring about her ladylike image at all. "You sure love your fancy logic. But my whole point was to spark rumors. Don't dodge the issue."
"Tch." Lucian clicked his tongue, giving her zero face.
He sighed. "Fine, fine, I was wrong. You want to be carried, right? Come on then, into my arms."
"Drop dead." Swire smacked him, then smoothly hugged his arm.
Her words were sharp, but her actions were soft and clingy, her whole weight leaning into him.
Her long lashes fluttered as she warned, "Call me heavy and you die. Walk slowly. Pretend I'm your secret first love—you'd better be gentle and sweet."
"Uh… but I don't have a first love—ow."
Still mouthing off, Lucian got his waist twisted by Swire and wisely shut up.
Honestly, once a woman learns how to control a man by the waist, he has no dignity left. Is that even fair…?
Lucian had no choice but to match her pace, letting her rest against his shoulder.
In the beginning, before she took interest in him, they were just a cop and an ordinary citizen.
Even after Swire's mysterious switch flipped, Lucian stayed cautious, keeping things at a surface-level friendship.
But Swire lost patience with his stubborn neutrality and eventually ripped the whole façade apart. Everything was laid on the table.
Most girls would never have the guts to do that. Swire might look approachable, but she truly was a remarkable, gutsy heiress.
After they sat down, Swire still didn't let go, resting her head affectionately on his shoulder.
Her boldness was insane.
Forget Lungmen—in the whole of Victoria, you'd be hard-pressed to find a noble heiress who'd openly show affection for a man in public. And the man wasn't even a member of the Aristocracy.
Lucian's only choice was to pretend he was a block of wood and keep counting backwards from 1000.
"Hey." Swire lifted her eyes, looking up at him at a perfect 45-degree angle. "You should be able to fess up by now. What would it take for you to marry into my family? Try answering that."
Dun, dun—dong.
Lucian felt a chill. This Siberian tiger of an heiress was getting serious.
And honestly, he had dragged this out too long. Maybe it really was time to answer properly.
So Lucian thought for a moment, found the most "reasonable" condition he could, and cautiously replied:
"Well… how about… making all of Victoria the dowry?"