Chapter 673

The tunnels didn’t change much.

Stone. Rune-light. The wagon’s steady roll. The faint vibration in the bench under Ludger’s hands as the runic drive pulled them forward like a patient beast.

Ludger kept his focus on the path, guiding the wagon through turns and junctions that only existed because he’d carved them into the earth himself. It was almost comforting, control. Predictable terrain. No eyes in the dark unless he allowed it.

Which was why he noticed it instantly when something

shifted

behind him. Not sound. Mana. Kaela’s.

A thin, clean layer of wind gathered around the rear bench, so subtle most people would’ve mistaken it for the wagon’s natural draft. But Ludger didn’t miss mana signatures. He’d learned to read them the way other people read expressions.

A barrier. Not defensive. Not thick. Just… private.

He didn’t turn fully. I didn't need to. His eyes flicked to the side, catching the edge of it in the rune-light, air bending like heat haze, cutting off whispers the way a curtain cut off sight.

Kaela had moved closer to Viola and Luna. Ludger shot them a look over his shoulder, the kind that asked

What are you doing?

without wasting a single word.

Kaela met his eyes. Then she winked. And lifted a finger to her lips.

Shh.

Ludger’s eyebrows twitched.

Not because he was surprised she could do it, Kaela could do plenty, but because she’d done it like she owned the wagon.

Like she owned

his

mission.

He faced forward again, jaw tight, and told himself he didn’t care. Two minutes passed. Then Kaela dismissed the barrier like it had never existed. The air snapped back to normal. The tunnel’s stale breeze returned. She leaned forward slightly, voice carrying just enough to reach the front.

“It’s girl’s talk,” Kaela said, casual as a tavern afternoon.

Viola made a pleased little sound, like that explanation was a shield. Luna didn’t react, but her eyes were bright with quiet satisfaction.

Ludger stared ahead. “…”

Kaela turned her head, looking past Ludger toward Shera. “You want to join?”

Shera lounged in her seat like she was made of comfort, hands behind her head, eyes half-lidded. She didn’t even pretend to be offended.

“I’m fine,” Shera said, lips curling. “You three can conspire without me.”

Kaela hummed like that was acceptable. Ludger finally spoke, voice flat and unamused.

“Kaela,” he said, “you’re too….”

It almost came out before he could stop it.

A simple sentence. A factual observation. The kind of thing that would get a recruit smacked upside the head and a veteran laughed at.

Kaela didn’t laugh.

She turned slowly, slow enough that Ludger felt the temperature in the wagon drop by a degree without any actual wind. Her smile was cold. Not angry. Not offended. Just…

aware.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. She just looked at him like she could see exactly what had gone through his head the moment he decided to say it.

Ludger’s mouth opened. He almost doubled down. Almost clarified. Almost tried to explain the intent like that mattered. Then he remembered, very clearly, that certain words were forbidden to use on women if you liked having skin.

He closed his mouth. Silence. Kaela’s cold smile softened into something sharper, amused now, like she’d successfully reminded him of a rule without needing to swing the stick.

Viola snorted from the back.

Luna’s lips twitched. Maurien, eyes closed, let out a faint breath that might’ve been laughter if it hadn’t been so miserably restrained.

Shera’s grin widened, delighted. Kaela finally turned away, satisfied.

“Good,” she said lightly, as if they’d just completed a lesson. “Now drive.”

Ludger stared forward, hands steady on the wagon’s controls, face blank. But his eyebrows twitched again anyway. Because he didn’t like being taught rules he already knew.

And because, somewhere behind him, he could feel the girls’ talk start back up in whispers the moment Kaela decided the wagon belonged to them again.

Renvar made a sound that was

almost

a cough.

Almost.

His shoulders started shaking, and he leaned forward like he’d suddenly discovered a very interesting knot in his own belt. One hand went to his stomach, the other braced on his knee, and the only reason the wagon didn’t fill with laughter was because Renvar was biting down on it hard enough to leave teeth marks.

Ludger watched him from the corner of his eye.

For a man who’d fought pirates in a storm and watched men drown without blinking, Renvar was currently losing a battle against a joke.

Idiot,

Ludger thought.

Still hasn’t grown as much as I hoped.

Renvar finally lost enough control to speak, voice strained and shaking.

“It’s just—” he wheezed, then cleared his throat like that would fix it. “Despite the fact your name stirs fear in the Empire…”

He paused, shoulders shaking again.

“…you’re still a thirteen-year-old boy who doesn’t know how to treat women properly, vice guild master.”

The words hung in the wagon like a thrown pebble. Viola made a satisfied sound in the back. Kaela didn’t turn around, but Ludger could feel her amusement like a draft. Ludger stared forward, expression flat.

“I know,” he said.

No denial. No pride. No wounded ego. Just the fact.

“My mother made sure to teach me enough,” Ludger continued, tone dry, “not to become a womanizer like my father.”

The wagon went quiet for half a breath. Then Viola snorted so hard she nearly choked.

“Hey,” Arslan wasn’t here to protest, but the spirit of offense hovered anyway.

Renvar choked on another laugh, shoulders spasming. Ludger didn’t care. He kept talking, because this was one of those rare subjects where honesty was cheaper than pretending.

“Even if I had the time,” Ludger said, “which I don’t… fooling around is out of the question. Looking for girlfriends left and right is close to suicide when your mother spent years suffering because of a runaway fling.”

His voice didn’t harden with anger.

It hardened with

memory.

Not even his own Elaine’s. The kind of pain that got passed down like an heirloom nobody wanted. Renvar’s laughter died down into a quiet, guilty wheeze. Kaela’s wind shifted faintly, like she’d turned slightly to listen without looking like she was listening.

From the side bench, Maurien finally opened his eyes.

He looked at Ludger for a second, then said, deadpan, “At least that part of your life is normal.”

Ludger turned his head slowly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“How is that normal?” Ludger asked.

Maurien’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. More like the shadow of one.

“Your fear,” Maurien said, voice calm as a lake with something dead at the bottom, “of your overprotective mother.”

Ludger stared at him. Renvar let out a small, broken sound that might’ve been laughter returning, or might’ve been him trying not to. Viola’s eyes gleamed with the kind of joy only a big sister could feel when someone else was being bullied for once.

Ludger’s gaze drifted forward again, back to the tunnel, back to the mission, back to the cold certainty that the sea didn’t care about any of this.

“Great,” Ludger muttered.

Maurien leaned back, closing his eyes again like he’d delivered wisdom and was now done with social interaction. Renvar finally straightened, wiping at the corner of one eye as if he’d been coughing too hard.

“You’ll figure it out,” Renvar said, still amused. “Or you won’t. Either way, the Empire will still be afraid.”

Ludger didn’t respond. Because the Empire wasn’t what scared him. Not really. The thing that scared him was a woman in his home who could look at him once, say nothing, and make him feel like he’d committed a crime against common sense.

And the worst part? Maurien was right. That was… normal.

Ludger let the laughter and the teasing burn itself out like a small fire in a stone bowl.

The wagon kept rolling. The tunnel kept narrowing and widening in familiar patterns. The rune-light kept sliding over faces like pale water.

Valk sat quiet through all of it, straight-backed, hands resting loosely on his knees, eyes half-lidded like he was meditating inside a moving wagon full of idiots.

Shera, too, had gone still again, watching the ceiling stones pass overhead with the relaxed patience of someone who’d seen enough chaos to choose when to care. Ludger glanced at them, then exhaled. He turned just enough to address them without fully giving up the front.

“Sorry,” Ludger said. “My guild members are… noisy.”

Renvar made a strangled sound behind him, somewhere between

offended

and

trying not to laugh again.

Kaela didn’t react. Viola looked smug. Luna looked entertained. Maurien looked like he was asleep but was absolutely listening.

Valk opened his eyes fully and regarded Ludger with calm focus.

“I don’t live alone because I hate liveliness,” Valk said. His voice was steady, unhurried, like a teacher correcting a mistaken assumption. “I live alone because I seek enlightenment every day.”

Ludger blinked once. Then he nodded, accepting that like it was a statement about weather.

“I understand,” Ludger said. “Then… apologies again. Because on this trip, you won’t get much enlightening silence.”

Valk’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but restrained, the way his whole existence seemed restrained.

“Silence,” Valk said, “is not always the absence of sound.”

Ludger stared forward again. That sounded like wisdom. It also sounded like something that would get Renvar punched if he tried to say it in the wrong room.

Shera leaned in slightly, amused.

“And I live alone,” Shera said, “mostly because moving elsewhere is too troublesome.”

She said it like it was the simplest explanation in the world.

“Besides,” she added, eyes brightening with genuine interest now, “I’m curious about this sea beast.”

Ludger nodded once. “Fair.”

Then, as the words settled, something tight pulsed in his forehead. A vein began to throb.

He felt it before he consciously acknowledged it, like his body recognized the pattern his mind was trying not to.

Curious about the sea beast.

Which meant they’d been told.

Which meant… Ludger’s gaze hardened, not outward, but inward, running back through the morning in fast, clean steps.

Arslan talking with Kharnek. Arslan inviting Valk and Shera. Arslan

mentioning

the mission.

And if Arslan had mentioned it… Ludger closed his eyes for half a second, breathed in through his nose, and breathed out slowly.

Dad spread info about that as well.

He opened his eyes. The vein kept throbbing. Maybe it hadn’t been an accident.

Maybe Arslan had used it. Not maliciously. Not as a trap. But as a lure, dangling the promise of danger and novelty in front of two people who lived alone and claimed they didn’t care about liveness.

A lure to bring capable hands into the fold without having to argue with Ludger about it first. Ludger’s jaw tightened. He kept his eyes on the tunnel. He kept driving. But the thought stayed there, tapping at the inside of his skull like a knuckle on stone.

Maybe he used that to lure Valk and Shera…

Ludger didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to. The ocean already had enough hooks waiting. He didn’t need to add family politics to the list.

Still… That vein in his forehead didn’t stop throbbing.

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