“You know, I’m not sure I have ever felt this sore.” Leopold watched over his old body like he had consumed sour grapes.

Caelan had finished another round of bag work and worked his way around taking off the gloves. “Explains why you so flabby.”

“Seriously, do you really need all that to lose weight?” The ghost started counting on his fingers. “Wake up at six, walk a shitload, then push-ups and all that crap. Then, before lunch all that lifting weights. And now, just before dinner, hitting the bag like a maniac!”

Caelan chuckled in the middle of swiping the sweat from his body. “We need strength, the real kind. And that requires muscle, so yeah, doing all that is a minimum.” He rolled his shoulders, the soreness radiating through his muscles. A reminder of his progress. “Besides, it’s not like there’s a shortcut to any of this.”

“And how do you know so much about weight loss and shit? Like, you made some very specific requests when rebuilding the dorm.”

Caelan sat down a bit, his mind wandering. “Had serious anger issues as a teen. Gram… my grandfather put me in boxing.”

Leopold stared at him with sheer skepticism. Then he claimed he hadn’t heard a single swear coming out of him, let alone anger. Mild irritation at best, in his words. Caelan grinned; the old gym clear as day behind his closed eyes.

“It doesn’t just teach you how to throw punches,” Caelan said, the old man’s gruff voice echoing in his head. “It teaches how to fight through everything—anger, fear, failure.”

“You’re weird, you know that?” Leopold crossed his arms, eyes away from him. “I don’t think I ever had the kind of discipline you’re putting my body through. Makes me wonder if I wasted it.”

The former soldier reflected on his words. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anger anymore—it was there, lurking. Boxing had given him the tools to keep it in check, to turn it into something useful. “Better late than never.”

As they made their way back inside, they bumped into a girl. She dropped on the floor, the contents she carried spilling all over. One look at her and Caelan felt his jaw tightened for a moment.

 “S-Sorry!” The girl adjusted her glasses before hurrying to pick all the scattered papers. “I should have seen where I was going!”

The young man sighed, crouching down to assist her. “It’s fine, lady Allonde.”

The second he got closer, she squealed and mover back a bit. Body trembling, she placed both hands over her mouth, looking at him like a prey staring up a predator.

With another sigh, he got up and stepped back. The tightness of his jaw stronger. “Sorry about that.”

He made his way inside, before crouching by the entrance, to take off his shoes and count down. The exact moment he hit fifteen, the girl entered, locking the door behind her.

With a fluid move, she undid the braid on her hair. A cascade of crimson came down, just as the slouched posture turned into a straight, chest puffed one. “I must say, nothing beats the feeling of shedding off outside Seraphina. I hope you enjoyed the performance, darling.”

Her transformation felt meticulous. Every motion had purpose, from the precise undoing of her braid to the shift in her posture. It was like watching someone step out of a role they’d rehearsed a thousand times.

“This still creeps the fuck out of me.” Leopold fixated on her as she passed them by, a massive smile while she waved at “Leopold”. “Only a psycho could do this!”

“Not that far from the truth, I guess.” Caelan scratched the back of his head as he walked with her. “You know, you don’t need to act so scared of me.”

“Oh my!” Her hand fluttered to her mouth, but her eyes gleamed with something sharp. “How else would little old Sera act? You wouldn’t want the big, bad ex-noble to get too comfortable, would you?”

“Just to clarify, I NEVER tried anything a girl didn’t want!” Leopold closed his hands into fists. “Wastes, I only attracted the gold diggers, seeing as I was a little overweight and all.”

“You call that a little?”

“Go fuck yourself with a barbed pole, Caelan!”

The scents of spices and meat crawled into his nostrils as they got inside the kitchen. There they found a young man clad in a floral apron. He hummed a slow song as he stirred whatever boiled at the pan. A warm smile greeted them both as they got inside.

“Welcome back you two. I made stew for dinner. No carrots for you, Sera, with lots of protein for you, Leopold.”

Caelan couldn’t help but give a genuine smile. “Thanks a lot, Lucien.”

Seraphina, for her part, walked like a model on a catwalk towards him. Then she delivered a peck to his cheek, making the boy turn as red as his dish. “Looks marvelous as usual! You sure you don’t want to come work as my personal chef?”

He fidget with the spoon while looking away. “I-I can… consider it…”

Caelan told them he would take a quick shower before eating. This would give them enough room so they could discuss all his activities for the day. Of spying on him, that is.

“I don’t like him.” Leopold throw daggers at the direction of the kitchen as the cold water hit their body.

“You not liking the nicest man alive? Color me shocked.”

“That’s not it!” The specter bit his lips for a few moments, before spilling the beans. “Look, I lived in a gang-filled slum as a child. You learn to recognize when something is wrong rather quick there. And something there makes me shiver.”

“Didn’t know you could have a physical reaction.”

“That look,” Leopold muttered, his voice low. “I’ve seen it before, back when I had to sleep with one eye open. It’s the kind you only get when you’ve learned how to hunt.”

Caelan assured him it must have been his imagination. He explained how the games showed Lucien lar Draeven as the kindest person alive. In fact, his main conflict during the first game reflected that. Balancing his executor's duties and nature. He expressed doubts on how accurate Leopold's instinct would be after years as a noble.

Unlike how he expected, Leopold didn’t give a snark reply. Instead, he kept pondering on it for the duration of the shower.

Back at the kitchen, the young Lucien served each plate with a generous portion of the stew. Seraphina held her cutlery with the dignity of a noble, while her feet kicked the air beneath the table.

Lucien’s movements felt deliberate. Each plate placed care of someone used to watching their every step. Seraphina, on the other hand, seemed lost in her own world. But Caelan noticed the way her gaze flicked toward him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

He would need to be careful. Not because they were to spy on him. But because they had major roles to play in the future story.

They held places among the “Neutral” companions, the ones present on all four routes. Neutral companions were bound by no allegiance to any of the four routes. Yet, remained critical to all. Their stories wove through many major decisions. Any change caused by interactions with him could jeopardize those.

Keeping them at arm’s length was the logical choice. Still, as he watched their easy laughter, a flicker of something tugged at him.

Regret?

No—just caution. For he couldn’t let the plot derail too much, or he would lose his greatest advantage. And that would make things a lot more complicated.