Yugo, unfamiliar with the materials, could only follow closely behind Sophia, ready to hand her whatever she needed at a moment’s notice.

The magic array was vast and intricate. With Sophia and Yugo’s help, they finished just as the sun blazed overhead—high noon.

*Gurgle~*

The moment Sophia placed the final component, Yugo’s stomach let out an untimely rumble beside her.

“Ah… s-sorry…”

Yugo’s face flushed crimson as he scratched his head, flustered.

Seeing the boy’s state, Sophia suddenly remembered—they hadn’t eaten since waking.

“Perfect timing. The array’s complete. It needs time to settle. Let’s grab lunch first.”

Just then, Hugh finished the last carved line, stood, and walked toward them.

…

Sophia had assumed that after putting her to work all morning, providing lunch was the least he’d do…

But…

“Go cook already! What are you spacing out for?” Hugh asked, puzzled, glancing at Sophia seated beside him.

Sophia: “…”

*This guy… really… so annoying…*

“M-Mr. Edward… don’t you find your behavior… rather shameless?” Sophia forced a polite tone, suppressing her simmering irritation.

Hugh remained utterly oblivious. He shot her a glance. “What’d I do? Stop stalling. Cook. I’m starving.”

“…”

Sophia stared at him—long and hard.

Yet under her intense gaze, Hugh showed zero remorse, perfectly at ease, waiting for food.

*Tch.*

Starving and refusing to let her stomach betray her in front of this shameless man, Sophia shot him a look of pure contempt and strode out.

Hugh watched her retreating figure head straight for the kitchen, a faint smirk on his lips.

Yugo hurried after her. “Sophia, wait! I’ll help!”

Since Sophia had already revealed her name, Yugo reverted to his usual address.

Inside the kitchen, faced with rows of vegetables, Sophia fell silent.

*“Hehe… little princess… what’ll you cook?”* An’s mocking voice echoed in her mind.

“A stew.”

*“Figures. You can’t cook, can you? Of course—you’re a pampered… Princess! Hahaha—”*

“…”

*Thud! Thud! Thud!*

Yugo stepped in to see Sophia slamming the red bracelet on her wrist against the stone wall, dull thuds echoing.

“S-Sophia… um… how about… I make lunch?”

Thinking she was just in a huff, Yugo quickly claimed the “important duty.”

Sophia held his gaze a moment, then looked away—calm, composed.

In a detached tone: “I’ll leave it to you~” She turned and left.

Yugo blinked, then smiled softly.

…

Sophia didn’t return to the room. She walked straight to the magic array.

Why?

Purely—she couldn’t stand Hugh’s deadpan face another second.

She circled the array, mentally retracing every line.

Her magical knowledge was self-taught. Though she’d studied royal archives, she still lagged far behind true mages.

Amateur effort rarely matched expertise.

Geniuses excepted.

But Sophia knew—she wasn’t one.

“An, why does that line twist there?” she asked silently, pointing to a distant groove.

An sighed inwardly—too basic—but answered:

“That’s a mana node. Activation floods it instantly; the twist slows the flow to prevent scorching.”

It yawned mid-reply.

Sophia didn’t mind. Every detail was progress.

Magic differed from swordsmanship.

The latter relied on body and muscle memory.

Magic demanded calculation and deep knowledge.

Every great mage was a master of arithmetic.

Confusion and clarity flickered in Sophia’s eyes as she studied the array.

An grumbled about her “childish” questions—but kept answering.

Time slipped by… until a savory aroma drifted over.

“Sophia! Lunch is ready!” Yugo called, breathless, waving.

Sophia snapped back, nodded, and quickened her pace toward the farmhouse.

The scene reminded An of her earlier helpless rage. It let out a mocking chuckle.

*“Little princess… skipping cooking today?”*

Sophia’s calm, cool voice cut through: “Do you… think you’ll get any food later?”

An froze.

*Right. Can’t reveal myself to Hugh. Not even as a cat—he’d notice. No form, no food.*

Silence.

Sophia’s voice returned, light as frost: “If I recall… you haven’t eaten since last night. Hmm… hehe~”

“…”

An admitted it—regret bit deep.

If it hadn’t mocked her… maybe she’d have saved a bite.

Now? Lunch was doubtful. Dinner? A mystery.

“Fine! I won’t eat! Do you think I crave your human food?” An snapped, pride flaring.

*Ridiculous!*

Could a few measly meals compare to a noble dragon’s dignity!?

The answer was, of course—