The corridor outside the kitchen hit colder than it had on the way down. Stones drank the warmth out of Ritsuka’s soles with every step, like the estate itself was trying to remind her she was not in Tokyo anymore. The smell of stew still clung to her sleeves as she matched Lucas’s pace toward the study.
The pendant at her throat sat like a steady coin of warmth against her skin. When her shirt shifted, metal brushed her collarbone and a little pulse of heat followed in its wake. Her fingers itched to touch it again.
“I don’t know why you dragged me into this world,” she thought, thumb pressing the outline of the pendant through the cloth, “but if I get another shot at a restaurant out of it, I’m not wasting the chance”
A thin breath of sea air slipped in from somewhere salt, damp stone, a hint of tar and rope. It made the hallway feel even colder by comparison.
“Note to self,” she added, “long sleeves, thicker socks.” Ritsuka thought
Lucas slowed only when the hall opened onto a heavier door banded with metal. Two guards stood on either side, spears grounded, eyes tracking them in. When they saw who approached, they straightened and snapped their heels together.
“My lord,” one said. “My lady.”
Lucas answered with a brief nod to each and pushed the latch. The door gave under his hand and swung inward on oiled hinges.
Ink, old smoke, and paper hit her nose first.
Ritsuka stepped into the study and the air met her like a room that had been thinking too hard for too long. Light from three tall windows fell in pale sheets across shelves of ledgers and rolled charts. A massive desk sat near the center, its surface buried under neat stacks of parchment and half-drained inkpots.
Off to the right, a wide table held a detailed map of the Savora archipelago. From where she stood, Ritsuka could see only a handful of carved ship markers clustered close to the main island, with empty sea stretching out around them.
“Seems like there’s a lot of work left,” she thought. “But I can see it. Tables near the water. People actually eating instead of worrying if there’s enough for tomorrow. My kind of paradise.”
Ritsuka felt the weight of the room settle across her shoulders, a mix of paper, ink, and worry.
Lucas closed the door behind them with a soft click.
“Have a seat, sister,” he said. The words came out softer than a command, worn by habit and concern. “Even if you are feeling better, that much walking in one day will tire you.”
“I will sit as soon as our food arrives, no worries,” Ritsuka answered, letting a small smile touch her mouth. “Don’t worry so much. I’m a fighter.”
For a moment Lucas just looked at her, as if the words themselves were something he had not heard in years. Then the corner of his mouth tugged up.
“Yes,” he said quietly, a low chuckle slipping out. “You always were.”
The sound of it settled in her chest in a strange way.
Right on cue, a knock sounded.
“Enter,” Lucas called.
Isolde slipped inside with a tray balanced carefully in both hands. Steam curled up from two bowls set side by side, the scent of reefback and peppers pushing past the ink and smoke.
“My lord,” Isolde said. “My lady. Your stew.”
Lucas’s gaze softened when it landed on the bowls, then shifted to the maid’s face.
“You have done more than I could have hoped for in one morning,” he said. “And thank you, Isolde. It was clever of you to keep my sister reading. It's a blessing what she has done today”
Isolde’s shoulders twitched, like she wanted to duck and made herself hold still.
“I only spoke of what might interest my lady once she recovered,” she said. “It seemed to catch her attention quickly. If it has helped, then I am glad.”
Her eyes slid to Ritsuka for a brief moment, a quiet I heard you before she schooled her face again.
“Leave it there,” Lucas said, gesturing to the smaller table near the hearth instead of the big desk. “We will eat while we talk.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Isolde set the tray down with slow, steady hands, nudged a spoon that had shifted in transit back into place, then bowed and withdrew as quietly as she had come. The door closed behind her, shutting out the distant clatter of the house.
For a moment, the only sounds were the soft pop of the fire and the faint rattle of the windows when the sea wind pushed against the glass.
Lucas crossed to the low table and eased into one of the chairs. The shift from lord of the house to older brother showed more in his posture than in his face. His shoulders dropped. The straight line of his back loosened a little.
Ritsuka took the chair opposite. The cushion accepted her weight with a soft sigh. Her legs were more tired than she wanted to admit. Heat from the bowls climbed into her face, fogging the edge of her vision for a moment.
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“Eat first,” Lucas said. “Then we can talk.”
“That is the smartest thing you have said all morning,” she replied.
She lifted her spoon and tasted. The stew had deepened in the pot on its way up, the sauce settling into the reefback boar and waking the peppers properly. The fat had rounded off the sharp edges. It settled warm and steady in her stomach.
Across from her, Lucas scooped up his first spoonful, blew once on it, and took a bite.
From a distance, she noticed his shoulders ease almost immediately.
A thin wash of gold light brushed the edge of Ritsuka’s vision.
[Effect Applied: Hearth’s Blessing I]
[Recipient: Lucas Wynnee]
[Duration: 2 hours]
[Effects: Warmth · Eased fatigue · Steadier focus]
The writing hung in the air only for her, neat and calm, then drifted to one side when Ritsuka blinked.
Again, she thought. Whatever this is its clearly ties to my cooking… does it work on me?
She took another spoonful of stew on reflex, tasting for any difference in her own body. Heat, spice, salt, the same as before.
Nothing happened
So whatever that… it is, it works on other people , not the cook meaning me…?
Lucas took another bite, slower this time, paying attention. His eyes closed briefly as he swallowed.
“This is different,” he said. “I can feel it. Not just good food. There is something in it that is… pushing the tired back. I have not felt anything like this since Mother.”
The pendant at her throat pulsed once, a small, concentrated warmth against her skin.
Did their mother have this ability to? she thought to herself. Whatever it is I have to figure it out maybe it can help… still don't understand why Leah brought me here yet.. But maybe I should be blessed… after all, my life on earth wasn't any better.
Lucas’s gaze slid to her again.
“When did you learn to cook like this?” he asked.
She let her thumb press lightly against the outline of the pendant through her shirt.
“I can't ever tell you my past… so please accept this “ she thought as mustered the words she hoped would convince him back off.
“If I can be transparent, brother,” she said, “I don’t recall much of anything before I put this on.”
She watched his face as she said it.
“I remember opening the box,” Ritsuka went on. “I remember seeing the pendant and thinking of Mother’s portrait. I put it on. There was heat. Strength. After that… it’s smoke. The memories from before are blurred, from there. I feel I have retained my knowledge but thinking gives me migrainess
“Please buy it” she thought, nerves wrecking with anticipation .
Lucas went still. His hand tightened once on the arm of the chair.
His expression tugged, torn between worry and a huff of humor.
“We will come back to it,” Lucas said quietly. “Soon. I would be lying if I said it did not concern me that the relic and your memory are tied together. But you are right. We have one crisis at a time already standing in the doorway.”
“Exactly,” she said. “So eat.”
He did as told, spoon moving a little faster now that his body had decided it liked what it was getting. The change was visible even in the brief time it took them to finish half their bowls. His shoulders no longer drooped quite so much. The strain etched around his eyes had not vanished, but it no longer dragged at every blink.
Ritsuka ate more slowly, letting herself just exist in the simple motions: scoop, blow, taste, swallow. Warmth. Salt. Pepper. Reefback cooked all the way through.
Lucas set his spoon down at last and leaned back, palms resting on his knees.
“All right,” he said. “We should start with the most urgent piece. Better you hear it from me than through half a hallway of whispers.”
His gaze settled on her, steady and direct.
“The imperial envoy from Drakovar will arrive in three days,” he said. “They are coming for two reasons. To confirm your recovery, and to finalize the engagement with the third prince we spoke of before. I have held off pressing it while you were weak. Our talks on the subject have been very limited.”
The stew in her stomach turned heavy.
This won’t do… a pre-determined marriage to someone I don’t know isn’t what I signed up for, she thought. There had to be a reason why this girl said yes to this.
She placed her spoon down, carefully enough that it only kissed the side of the bowl instead of rattling.
“Is there any way,” Ritsuka asked, keeping her voice even, “for me to change my mind on that?”
The question hit him harder than she liked.
Lucas stared at her, the confusion on his face completely unguarded. His fingers curled once on the armrest, then slowly loosened. The lines at the corners of his mouth deepened.
“Change your mind,” he repeated. “You mean… call it off. Entirely.”
“Yes,” she said. “If it is possible.”
She drew in a breath and made herself keep going.
“After thinking it through, I feel that being pawned off to someone I have no feelings for will only make me…”
Her old life pushed at her.
“Julia,” Lucas said softly.
His hand lifted from the arm of the chair, stopping halfway across the space between them, as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t quite dare touch her without permission.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. The word scraped on the way out, but it held. “It just sounds uglier when I say it instead of keeping it in my head.”
This time, if I get married it’ll be to someone who truly loves me, not what I can provide. Not whatever that was before.
She let her fingers rest lightly on the edge of the bowl to steady them.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ritsuka went on, “but based off what I have heard, our duchy is not in the best condition.”
She ticked points off on her fingers.
“Bram told me reefback boar is rare enough that keeping one for the house is a luxury,” she said. “He scraped the last of the onions for this stew. The so-called ‘good drink’ he poured was the closest thing he had to real spirit, and he said as much. That’s just from one morning in the kitchen.”
Her eyes met his again.
“Why would a third prince, with all the noble houses between here and his own borders, push this hard to marry a woman he has never met?” she asked. “It takes court mages, sea routes full of monsters, and a lot of coin to get an envoy here. All for a bride whose last clear report was that she might not live through winter.”
She shook her head once.
“There are closer daughters,” she said. “Richer ones. Healthier ones. Yet he sends his people here. Either this prince is desperate… or scheming.”
The pendant warmed again against her skin, a slow thrum that made the hairs at the back of her neck stir.
And if there is anything in this house worth scheming over, she thought, thumb brushing the concealed metal.
She did not say that part out loud.
The fire cracked in the hearth.
Lucas didn’t argue he watched he shoulders lifting and falling with one long, controlled breath.
“I did not realize you were seeing that much,” he said at last. “You have kept yourself shut away for years. No voice. No visitors beyond staff. I thought you were shutting the world out.”
A small, dry smile tugged at her mouth.
“Earning the name ‘Silent Lady’ gives a girl a lot of time to think,” she said. “Just because I wasn’t talking doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening.”
“I know you made that arrangement to protect this place,” she said. “To protect me. I am not blind to that. But I… after everything…”
Images flickered in the back of her skull. A dining room drowned in candlelight. A plate set in front of her with a smile that did not reach the eyes behind it. Ten years poured into another man’s dream, gone in a single, cold sentence.
She blinked once, steadying the slight shake in her fingers before it could reach the spoon.
“I don’t want to spend another life being sold to someone else’s future,” she said quietly. “I just want a restaurant with my name on the door.”
End of Chapter 7