Chapter 39
The faint ticking of a golden-framed wall clock echoed softly in the waiting chamber as the three—Lucien, Knight Rex, and Maid Marie—found themselves alone once more. The opulent room, still basking under the glow of its enchanted crystal lamps, had grown unusually quiet, almost reverent, as though recognizing the weight of Lucien’s transformation. Bookshelves lined with ancient tomes and scrolls stood in perfect symmetry along the polished marble walls, while a velvet-draped table at the center remained untouched, the tea that had been prepared for a simpler moment now cold and forgotten.
Knight Rex exhaled deeply, a breath of relief that seemed to ease the tension locked in his broad shoulders. He turned to Lucien, his sharp eyes scanning the boy—no, young man—who now stood taller and far more mature than when they last truly looked at him. And then, with a slight squint of confusion, Rex asked, "Young master... why are you wearing a robe? Where did your clothes go?"
Marie, who had up to now been too busy internally wrestling with the blush creeping up her cheeks, suddenly snapped her attention back to reality. She blinked, her brown eyes trailing from Lucien’s ethereal silver hair down to the pristine white robe that now clothed him. Her face flushed red as a forbidden thought or two slipped past her mind’s filter. She quickly turned her gaze away, pretending to examine the intricate embroidery on the rug instead.
Lucien, for his part, gave a tired yet playful smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I... don’t know. It just happened," he replied vaguely, his mismatched eyes glancing toward the door as if seeking escape.
Rex raised an eyebrow, sensing the discomfort his young master now radiated. But he was no brute when it came to personal matters. He nodded respectfully and dropped the subject. "Well, I suppose all that matters is that you’re safe."
Marie nodded as well, though her fingers fidgeted at the hem of her uniform, and a glance still flickered toward Lucien’s side profile now and again. They understood. No further questions were needed.
With the moment of awkwardness slowly dissolving into the ornate stillness of the room, the trio moved as one. They approached the same double doors through which they had entered hours ago—or what felt like days for some of them. The twin doors, dark wood laced with silver veins and ancient runic engravings, creaked faintly as Rex pushed them open. The cool air of the corridor greeted them like a returning breeze, tinged faintly with the smell of blessed oils and polished stone.
As they stepped into the grand stone hallway, Lucien glanced around and noticed the absence of the two stationed guards who had previously stood stiff and vigilant by the entrance.
"Where did the guards go?" Lucien asked, tilting his head.
It was Marie, still trying to hold back her fascination with the older-looking Lucien, who answered. "They left earlier young master. After the system interface shut down, they went to inform their higher-ups... to get clarification on what happened."
Lucien nodded solemnly. The silence left by the missing system interface—it was like an old companion had vanished. He couldn’t call upon any windows, no list of talents or attributes, no pings of energy fluctuation or familiar sounds. For a world that had relied on it since the dawn of recorded time, this shift was a quiet but thunderous blow.
