Chapter 305 - "The Peaceful Day!"

The dwarven morning rose with heat, not light.

Far below, furnaces exhaled slow ribbons of steam that curled up through vents in the stone. The walls ticked faintly as metal expanded. Somewhere in the distance, heavy gears clanked into motion like awakening giants.

But the corridor outside the infirmary was still.

Almost peaceful.

Luca lay slumped against the wall, his back curved at an uncomfortable angle. One arm hung limp across his lap, his other hand still half-curled as if he’d meant to push himself up hours ago but never managed it. His legs were folded unevenly, boots tilted awkwardly to one side.

His head had lolled forward at some point, and his messy hair fell across his forehead in soft, uneven strands.

His breaths were slow.

Gentle.

Completely drained.

He really slept here...

The infirmary door opened with a soft wooden groan.

The Tower Master stepped out.

She paused after one step.

Her eyes—cool, refined—settled on Luca instantly. For a heartbeat, her posture froze. The faint rise of her shoulders halted mid-breath. Her fingers, resting lightly against her sleeve, stilled with the smallest tension.

She slowly tilted her head down, examining him.

His clothing slightly wrinkled.

Eyebrows relaxed in a rare vulnerability.

Lips parted slightly in exhausted sleep.

Her gaze softened.

A faint exhale slipped beneath her veil, warming the fabric.

Then she moved closer—soundless, her steps controlled despite her sealed power. She lowered herself into a kneel beside him, the movement smooth but unhurried, lowering with the kind of elegance one could only call natural.

Up close, the signs of his fatigue were even clearer.

Small shadows beneath his eyes.

A faint dryness at the edges of his lips.

A crinkle between his brows that told her he hadn’t rested properly in days.

Her hand lifted—hesitating for a fraction of a second.

Then her gloved fingers brushed his hair back gently, tucking a wayward strand behind his ear.

She lowered her head slightly, her voice soft, almost whispering.

"Luca..."

His eyelashes twitched.

She tried again, even softer, as though fearing a sharp sound might break something fragile.

"Luca, wake up."

His eyes flew open.

He jerked upright like a startled cat.

"Mm—Master!? Master, are you—do you need—?! I’m awake, I—"

He didn’t realize she was so close. And...

BAM.

Their foreheads collided.

The Tower Master recoiled half an inch—just half—but enough that her veil fluttered with the sudden motion. Luca clamped both hands over his forehead and winced.

"Ow—!"

Then his eyes finally focused.

"M-Master?!"

His expression transformed instantly into panic.

He leaned in without thinking, hands reaching out.

"I—are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry—here—"

He cupped the side of her head gently, thumb brushing near her temple, checking the spot they collided. His touch was feather-light, careful, respectful but full of worry.

The Tower Master did not answer the question.

She simply looked at him—quietly.

His messy hair.

His rushed breathing.

The intensity in his eyes.

Then she asked, in a steady, calm voice:

"Why didn’t you go to your room last night?"

Luca froze like a child caught doing something forbidden.

His hand dropped slowly from her face.

"I—I..."

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Eyes darted away.

Shoulders lowering slightly in guilt.

"I just thought... if you needed something and I wasn’t here..."

He hesitated.

Then said in a small, honest voice:

"...I didn’t want to disappoint you."

A silence.

The Tower Master’s lashes lowered, barely perceptible.

A subtle shift of her weight, her fingers gathering a fold of her robe lightly—not nervously, but thoughtfully. The smallest softening of her shoulders.

She stood slowly, composed.

He scrambled up as well.

"Go now," she said, turning her head away—almost as if hiding the curve of her eyes. "At least go and freshen up. Even if I tell you to rest, you won’t listen anyway."

Luca’s ears reddened as he scratched his cheek.

"I... I’ll be back as soon as possible, Master. Promise."

He backed away two steps, bowed slightly with that awkward sincerity only Luca had, then dashed off down the corridor, boots thudding unevenly.

The Tower Master watched him until he turned the corner.

Only then did she let out a breath—slow, warm—and her fingers touched the bead of her bracelet unconsciously, as if grounding herself.

Her eyes softened.

A faint, private warmth hid behind her veil—

a ghost of a smile no one was meant to see.

She turned, robes whispering quietly as she re-entered the infirmary—

the slightest lightness in her steps, as though part of her heart had eased.

Luca ran through the stone corridors like a gust of wind barely held together.

His steps echoed off the warm metal-lined walls, breath brushing out in uneven bursts.

"I need to freshen up—fast."

He muttered the words as he turned sharply around a corner, nearly colliding with a stocky dwarf carrying an armful of gears. A quick apology later, Luca reached his room and pushed the door open.

He didn’t slow.

He practically sprinted into the bathroom.

Dwarven Craftsmanship — Bath of Steam and Stone

The bathroom was a masterpiece of dwarven engineering:

Smooth stone walls veined with glowing orange channels...

Hot steam constantly drifting from tiny vents along the ceiling...

A shower made of intricately carved metal pipes shaped like intersecting dragons.

When Luca twisted the valve shaped like a dragon’s fang—

WHOOSH—

A cascade of perfectly heated water burst downward, infused with faint metallic minerals that left a pleasant warmth on his skin.

Luca blinked.

"...Once I befriend a dwarf properly, I’m getting something like this in my house."

He took the fastest shower of his life, dried himself with the warm-air runes on the wall, and changed into fresh clothes. He styled his hair properly, tidied his sleeves, and stepped out.

"I should visit Kyle and Aurelia first. See if they have recovered or not."

His tone was firm but his eyes slightly worried.

Kyle & Aurelia’s Recovery Room

The dwarven infirmary wing buzzed faintly with forge-heat, but Kyle and Aurelia’s room was quiet.

Inside, Lilliane sat by Aurelia’s bed, hands clasped in her lap. Sylthara paced slowly, eyes flicking with impatience but eyes sharpened with concern.

The moment Luca entered, both girls looked up.

Kyle and Aurelia still lay unconscious, steady breaths rising and falling under neat blankets.

"How are they?" Luca asked softly. He walked and stopped besides Aurelia’s bed as his gaze lingered on her.

Lilliane’s gaze softened, relief mixed with lingering worry.

"The healer came this morning," she said. "He said they should wake up in one or two days."

Luca exhaled—long, controlled.

"That’s good."

He gave them both an appreciative nod.

"Thank you for staying with them. I’ll go check on Master and Selena."

Sylthara’s ears twitched.

She stepped forward.

"I’ll come with you," she said with a serious expression. "I haven’t seen the Magic Tower Master yet."

Luca thought for a moment as he nodded, and the two quietly left the room.

Walking back , a quiet tension remained between them.

Their steps echoed through the hallway, but neither spoke.

Luca walked with a steady stride, yet his fingers curled slightly—worry always hiding under the calm surface.

Sylthara said nothing, but her golden eyes darted around subtly. She seemed alert, ears slightly tilted back, as if she sensed the fragile atmosphere surrounding the infirmary.

The silence was almost... respectful.

They reached the infirmary door.

Luca exhaled softly and pushed it open.

The room inside was still dim, soaked in the quiet glow of mana lamps.

The Tower Master sat beside the bed—veil slightly lowered, posture straight but gaze heavy. One hand rested delicately near Selena’s arm, not touching, but close enough that her presence alone felt protective.

She wasn’t reading.

She wasn’t meditating.

She wasn’t distracted.

She was simply... watching her daughter breathe.

Luca stepped inside.

"Master."

The Tower Master’s head lifted.

Her eyes softened by a degree.

Then her gaze slid sideways as she noticed Sylthara.

Her brows lifted a fraction.

"I presume," she said calmly, "this is the Dark Elf princess."

Sylthara blinked—then hurriedly bowed, ears flicking upward.

"I-I didn’t expect the Tower Master to be so young!"

Luca’s lips twitched.

From where... exactly... is she learning all this flattery?

The Tower Master chuckled lightly behind her veil, amused but graceful.

They stepped closer.

Luca’s voice dropped.

"How is she?"

The Tower Master hesitated for the briefest moment.

Her eyes lingered on Selena—on the faint tremor in her eyelids, the slow rise and fall of her chest.

She opened her mouth—

—but froze.

Selena’s fingers twitched.

A second time.

Then—

Her eyelashes fluttered.

And finally...

Her eyes opened, weak and unfocused, but undeniably awake.

All three leaned forward instinctively.

Selena blinked.

Her gaze, cloudy and slow, drifted across the ceiling—

then to the Tower Master.

Her throat constricted, voice barely a breath.

"...Mother...?"

The Tower Master’s hand trembled.

Barely.

A tiny, almost invisible tremor.

But before she could speak—

THUD—THUD—THUD—

A young dwarf burst into the room, panting heavily, helmet slightly crooked.

He bent over, catching his breath. As he looked Luca.

"According to the elders’ orders—" he puffed, "—the Forgeheart Crucible will resume from tomorrow!!"