As the trio walked out of the villa, the Count stood in the hallway and saw them off.
Milas waved him goodbye cheerfully, but the Count looked vaguely constipated.
The Count hesitated, as though debating whether to bow to someone who had not existed in his household records yesterday, then settled for an awkward nod instead.
"Safe travels," he said to Finnian.
His gaze slid to Milas.
"…And you as well."
The group arrived at the private dock of the Count.
"Wow."
Milas stared at the shuttle.
Then he stared at it again, just in case his eyes had exaggerated.
It was parked at the private dock behind the estate—sleek, needle-shaped, with a matte black body. The crest of House Reyes shimmered along its side.
It probably cost more than what every person on this small border planet made combined.
He whistled softly.
"I always thought you had to park shuttles at the main airport."
"At smaller planets, it is common for noble families to own private docks," Finnian replied. "It is more convenient. And… more private."
Ah.
So it was to avoid meeting common folk while traveling.
"Anyway. Nice shuttle."
Finnian paused mid-step.
It was subtle—barely a fraction of a second—but Milas caught it anyway. The Duke turned back, expression neutral as ever, dark blue eyes flicking briefly toward the vessel before returning to him.
"It is functional," he said.
Milas raised a brow.
Interesting.
He eyed the aircraft again.
If that was merely functional, then public transport must have been powered by optimism and duct tape.
Behind them, Luca cleared his throat in a tone that suggested he was already reconsidering several life choices.
"The Reyes private cruiser is classified as a small tactical shuttle," the assistant said crisply. "It can accommodate up to twelve passengers."
Milas nodded, impressed.
That sounded expensive.
They walked along the ramp. The hatch slid open with a hum, revealing a brightly lit interior.
Everything inside screamed money.
Milas' fingers twitched. He had to physically restrain himself from touching anything.
Barely.
Finnian, accustomed to grandeur, strode aboard without hesitation. Luca followed, already checking systems and preparing for takeoff.
Not wanting to be left behind, Milas hurried after them.
The shuttle door sealed behind him with a soft hiss.
Finnian took the pilot's seat.
Milas blinked.
"You're driving?"
Finnian glanced over his shoulder.
"Yes."
Milas' eyes brightened.
"Oh. Nice. Not only handsome but talented, my fiancé."
Finnian shifted slightly, as if unused to compliments.
Milas smirked and leaned over the back of the chair, peering at the console.
The tips of Finnian's ears had turned red.
"I… served in the military," Finnian explained, shoulders stiffening at the proximity.
Milas watched as his hands moved over the console, screens lighting up in smooth synchronization.
"That's very attractive."
Finnian froze for half a second.
Then resumed inputting coordinates.
"…Thank you."
It sounded like he had absolutely no idea what to do with that statement.
Milas leaned back, grin widening.
Very interesting.
He preferred avoiding direct conflict when possible. And if Duke Finnian—who looked colder than space itself—turned out to be awkwardly innocent…
Well.
That could be useful.
Behind them, Luca cleared his throat pointedly.
"The Duke must concentrate on piloting the shuttle," he said. "Please sit down so we may take off."
Milas lifted his hands in surrender and wandered over to sit beside him.
He continued watching Finnian as the engines powered up.
Once they were airborne, Milas began spinning in his chair.
"Sooo… how long does the flight take?"
Luca sighed. "Almost one day—"
Milas stopped spinning.
"One day?? I thought this was high-tech! Why does it take so long?"
"There is currently a military conflict in the C-sector," Luca explained. "Traffic into the capital sector is restricted. Every vessel must be cleared."
"Mmm. I think I heard about that."
He started spinning again.
"These seats are sensitive," Luca warned. "Excessive rotation may damage them."
Milas rolled his eyes. "Okay."
He stood and began wandering around the cabin, poking at panels.
After he tried to open a sealed emergency locker, Luca decided he'd endured enough.
"If you require activity," he said coolly, "you may assist."
Milas' eyes lit up.
That was a mistake.
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting on the floor cataloging supply crates.
"Why do you have three medical kits?"
"Standard."
"And the fourth?"
"Emergencies."
"…And the fifth?"
Luca blinked.
"Personal comfort."
"That is not a category."
"It is in the inventory system."
"You made that system."
Luca did not deny it.
Milas groaned.
Then he heard a suspicious snort from the front and shot Finnian a glare.
The Duke sat at the table, face perfectly blank.
"Don't you have to drive?"
Finnian looked up.
"The shuttle is on autopilot."
"Oh."
Milas dropped the clipboard and flopped onto the floor.
Finnian raised a brow but said nothing.
Luca, however, looked murderous.
"If you are exhausted, you may retire to your room and cease bothering everyone."
Milas sprang upright.
"Wait. This thing has private rooms?"
He ignored the rest entirely.
"Show me. And then give me food. I will disappear for several hours."
Luca stood. "Follow me."
Once they reached the cabin, Milas gave him a thumbs-up and vanished inside.
---
A cold voice through the speakers woke him.
"We will soon reach the capital star."
Luca.
"Argh…" Milas rolled over. "Five more minutes…"
The lights brightened mercilessly.
"Come to the deck now."
"Fine."
He shuffled into the control room to find Finnian and Luca already waiting.
"Good," Luca said. "Now that we are assembled, I will explain our next steps."
Finnian nodded.
Luca turned to Milas.
"Our vessel will dock at Port Alpha. A private noble terminal."
He launched into a very detailed explanation.
Milas listened with half an ear.
Middle district citizens usually knew this much about space travel.
Lower district citizens were the ones who needed this level of instruction.
Milas grimaced.
So they did suspect something.
Still… if they thought he was from the lower district, this farce would have ended already.
Luca continued relentlessly.
"After docking, we will undergo security screening, then proceed directly to the hotel hosting the banquet. We must acquire attire for travel and evening wear—"
Milas stopped listening at security screening.
But he stilled smiled on reflex.
His stomach did not agree with him.
Blood tests.
There are some things they could not miss. Especially the blaring alarm that would sound the moment the blood test noticed an anomaly.
He was so completely screwed.