The transition between his soul and this new, fragile vessel had reached a strange equilibrium.
Because of the power dormant in his spirit, Lucian didn't truly need food to survive. His essence sustained the cells, rendering hunger a distant, forgotten sensation. But to the outside world, he was a dying man.
The bread was dry, but it carried a strange weight. After the first bite, Lucian tried to hand the remainder back to Lily, his stomach feeling the unwelcome intrusion of matter.
"I'm full now," he said, his voice flat.
Lily's face immediately crumpled into a determined pout. She crossed her small arms over her chest, looking up at him with a stubbornness that was distinctly Thorne.
"You only took one bite, Brother. You can't waste it. Hans says wasting food is a sin, especially when it's the good bread from the master baker."
Lucian looked at the bread, then at the child. In his first life, he had been fed through tubes. In his later lives, he had eaten the finest banquets and the dirt of battlefields.
To him, food was just a chemical necessity, one he no longer felt he required. But the pouting girl in front of him was a force of nature he wasn't prepared to fight.
With a weary sigh, he finished the bread. It felt like chewing on paper.
"Did something happen between Sister Seraphina and you, Brother? Is it about your annulled engagement? What changed you?" Lily asked suddenly, her voice softening, her eyes a bit sad and worried.
"Everyone says you're not yourself because she left. Is that why you won't eat?"
"No," Lucian replied, leaning back into his chair.
"Then why are you so sad?" she pressed, stepping closer. "You look like you're looking at something very far away all the time."
Lucian looked at her, really looked at her. She was ten. She hadn't seen the sky turn red. She hadn't seen a World Tree burn. How could he explain that he wasn't sad, but simply finished?
"It's a secret," he said, the corner of his lip twitching in the ghost of a smile.
Before she could ask another question, he stood up. He didn't have the energy for a long conversation. He leaned down and scooped the small girl up into his arms.
She was light, her hair smelling like vanilla and laundry detergent. He carried her to the door, placed her down gently in the hallway, and patted her head.
"It's late, Lily. Go to bed."
"But—"
"Goodnight," he said, and closed the door with a soft, final click.
The next morning was no different. Lucian made no demands for food. He remained in bed, staring at the shifting holographic patterns on his ceiling, waiting for the hours to pass. He didn't want the noise of the kitchen or the presence of the servants.
But Lily was relentless.
She broke his peace by appearing at mid-morning, balancing a tray with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies.
"Good morning, Brother! I gave you some milk and cookies," she said, placing the tray on the table beside him.
"You look pale and weak, Brother. You need sugar. The Academy teachers say sugar helps the brain recover from mana-shock."
"I am not in mana-shock, Lily."
"Eat it," she said, standing by his bed like a tiny, innocent warden.
She didn't move. She didn't blink. She just waited with that same immovable innocence.
Lucian realized that as long as she was there, he couldn't return to his cherished silence. He sat up, drank the milk in one go, and ate a single cookie just to get her to head off to her classes.
"There. Satisfied?"
Lily beamed, her worry momentarily replaced by a look of triumph. "Are you going for a walk? The weather is perfect. The sky is very clear today."
"No."
She pouted again, but then her eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
"Oh! I have classes. I'll be back later, Lucian! Don't go back to sleep the whole time!"
She scurried off, the sound of her footsteps fading down the hall.
After a few hours of nap-filled boredom, Lucian forced himself awake. Feeling restless, he stood up and wandered out of his room. He found himself in the mansion's library, a three-story cathedral of knowledge filled with both physical leather-bound books and shimmering data-crystals.
He was looking for a way to kill time without being bothered.
He was standing in the Geography section, pulling out a dusty travelogue of the Northern Tundra, when the air behind him grew heavy.
"I didn't expect to find you here," a voice said.
Lucian didn't turn around. He knew the voice. It was Silas. The perfect new heir walked into view, his eyes scanning Lucian with a sharp, guarded intensity.
He was deeply suspicious of Lucian's new act.
"The old Lucian wouldn't be caught dead in a library unless he was looking for a place to hide a bottle," Silas said, leaning against a shelf. "What are you doing, Lucian? What's the game?"
"Reading," Lucian said, flipping through a page of frozen wasteland descriptions.
"Right. And I suppose you're not interested in the Hunter Association Auction this Friday either?" Silas tried to provoke him.
"They're unveiling a rare Mana-Heart artifact. It's supposed to stabilize a user's core and increase mana-recovery by forty percent. You used to talk about it every day."
Lucian closed the book. He looked at Silas, seeing the tension in the younger man's jaw. Silas was waiting for him to beg. Waiting for him to ask for the money to buy the heart so he could be a real hunter again.
"You should buy it, then," Lucian said, his voice completely devoid of any desire.
"You're the heir now. You'll need the recovery rate for all the work you'll be doing."
Silas blinked, his composure slipping for a second. Lucian's complete lack of interest left the perfect son frustrated and wary.
"You... you don't want it?"
"I want to finish this book," Lucian replied, walking past him toward a reading chair in the corner.
He sat down and opened the book again, leaving the new heir of the Thorne family standing in the middle of the library, staring at his older brother as if he were a riddle that had no answer. For Lucian, the encounter was already forgotten. The tundra in the book looked quiet, cold, and empty.
It looked perfect.