After Favna returned with the milk tea, she glanced at the barely-touched room and couldn’t help teasing,

“How is this any different from when I left? Don’t tell me you slacked off, Alte?”

“My little sister called halfway through. Got held up,” Alte said, taking a cup from her hand and sipping.

Lightly sweetened—not too cloying. Acceptable.

“I wasn’t sure of your preference, so one’s seventy percent sugar, the other thirty. If it’s not right, we can switch.”

Favna was the cautious type—always wary of accidentally offending someone.

But judging by Alte’s reaction… he seemed fine with it?

Alte almost smiled. He lifted the half-sipped cup and teased, “Switch after I’ve already drunk from it?”

“No way!” Favna shot down the idea instantly, popped in a straw, and started drinking.

After a short break, Favna rolled up her sleeves, surveying the nearly finished room.

“Just a tiny bit left. Once it’s clean, we won’t have to deal with that old guy’s attitude anymore.”

“Mm.”

Alte simply nodded. Once packing began, Favna gathered her things—everything fit neatly into one suitcase. Laptop tucked under her arm, she was ready to go.

Alte noticed the suitcase wheels were broken, barely rollable. She looked ready to just haul it.

“Let me take it.”

He grabbed the case and strode ahead without waiting for her reply.

*Asking would’ve just made her refuse. Better to be firm.*

“Spacing out? Let’s go.”

“Ah—coming!”

Favna tore her gaze from his back, hastily pulled her black robe over herself, and hurried after him.

---

Back at the Dragon Knights’ headquarters, Alte set Favna’s luggage inside the storeroom—wait, *bedroom*—and said,

“This is yours now. Arrange it however you like.”

*(Meaning: even if you turn it back into a messy dragon’s den, it’s fine.)*

Favna flushed, waving her hands. “It won’t be like that! At most… I’ll just close the curtains.”

“What kind of night owl are you?” Alte chuckled, not judging, then shifted topics. “Didn’t you toss your old bedding? Sun’s still up—go grab a new quilt. Or borrow mine tonight.”

“No, no need!”

Now comfortable talking with him, Favna checked the sky, realized the time, and hurried out.

Barely five minutes later, Prince Abel of the Fallen Empire pushed open the office door—and froze.

“Did the sun rise in the west? Or did I walk into the wrong room?”

“Really that shocking?” Alte sighed. *Busy schedule. Living alone. A little mess is normal.*

“Well yeah! Last time there wasn’t even space to step,” Abel said, then paused. “Wait… *you* cleaned this? Doesn’t feel like you.”

“Hired help. Problem?”

“Guess not…” Abel hesitated. “But all these classified files—safe to leave with an outsider?”

“Her background’s clean. Trustworthy.”

Alte had vetted Favna thoroughly. Zero spy traces.

*If she were a spy, she’d have fawned over me at first meeting—not looked like she wanted to vanish into the floor.*

*What incompetent spy acts like that?*

“Fine~” Abel waved it off, then pointed at the desk. “But… *this* is dinner?”

A military compressed biscuit. Filling, not nutritious.

“Happens. Busy today. Gotta finish these docs or I won’t even get to game later.”

Alte munched while sorting papers—a classic 996 corporate drone.

Abel, his close friend, sighed. “Just get a girlfriend to look after you. With your looks, tidy your hair a bit—you’d be a sharp-looking guy.”

“You’re the sharp-looking guy,” Alte shot back. *Obviously teasing me.*

“I really don’t care about girlfriends.”

“…I see.”

Abel knew. Three years as classmates. He knew this stern Dragoon Captain carried a wound—a relationship that never even began.

He said nothing. Just sat across from him in silence.

After a beat, Alte noticed Abel’s scarf. “Since when do *you* wear scarves? Doesn’t suit you.”

“Hah!” Abel perked up, lifting the fringe proudly. “My wife embroidered it. Nice, right?”

Alte’s lip twitched. *So smug.* He bit back the comment.

“See? Girlfriends are great,” Abel softened his tone. “Remember that time you accidentally took off a girl’s clothes? Since she didn’t report you to the Oversight Bureau… maybe ask how *she* feels?”

“How the hell did you hear about that?!”