CHAPTER 169: THE REST OF THE DAY

After bathing, they returned to their quarters where dinner was already laid out. The dining hall was wide yet comfortable, the long table gleaming beneath chandeliers. Silver platters lined the surface, each filled with steaming dishes.

The aroma hit them first—rich, savory, intoxicating. Roasted lamb glazed with honey and herbs. Freshly baked bread, its crust golden-brown, steam rising as it was sliced open. Bowls of creamy soup, spiced potatoes, and roasted vegetables. On the far end, a platter of fresh fruits gleamed in vibrant colors.

Adam’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"By the gods... Now this is what I call a reward."

Lux smirked, taking his seat with practiced grace. "Try not to eat the table along with the food, Adam."

Nero didn’t even bother replying; his stomach was growling too much. He reached for the lamb first, slicing a piece with his knife and tasting it. The meat melted on his tongue, tender and bursting with flavor. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it.

"...This is incredible."

Adam tore into the bread and dipped it into the soup, devouring it with little restraint. "I don’t care what anyone says, training is worth it if we get meals like this afterward."

Lux, as always, ate with controlled composure, but even he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Food tastes better after pushing yourself to the limit. That’s the truth."

They ate heartily, laughter breaking the quiet as Adam teased Nero about being cut down in the spar, only for Nero to fire back with jabs about Adam’s footwork during training earlier. Even Lux, usually composed, joined in their banter, his voice lightened by the warmth of the evening.

As they leaned back in their chairs, Nero raised his glass of chilled water, his eyes thoughtful. "Next time... I’ll do better. I have to."

Lux nodded, his gaze steady. "And we’ll be there to see it."

Adam grinned, lifting his glass as well. "To training, good fights, and even better meals!"

Their glasses clinked together, the sound echoing faintly through the villa’s dining hall.

The dining hall slowly emptied as the servants cleared away the last of the dishes. The sun stood high overhead now, pouring golden light through the villa’s tall windows, bathing everything in a warm glow. Despite the heavy meal, none of the three felt like simply lazing around—they were too restless, their bodies still buzzing from training, sparring, and the heat of competition.

Blake, of course, was nowhere to be found. The young master had locked himself in his chambers since yesterday, and according to the maids, he hadn’t so much as twitched at the sound of footsteps or knocking.

"Sleeping his life away," Adam muttered, shaking his head as they passed the hallway.

It was Lux who suggested, "There’s a tennis court out back. We should try it—good way to loosen the body after heavy meals."

Adam’s eyes immediately brightened. "Now you’re speaking my language. I haven’t played in forever."

Nero blinked. "Tennis?" He tilted his head, clearly unfamiliar. "I’ve... never played before."

Lux gave a faint smirk. "Then you’ll learn today."

The court was nestled beyond the villa’s garden, separated by tall hedges trimmed to perfection. When they arrived, the sight was refreshing: a wide rectangle of immaculate grass, its lines painted white with precision. Rackets and balls were already prepared by the staff, who bowed and retreated to give the young men privacy.

The sun blazed above, yet a soft breeze kept the air comfortable, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers from the garden nearby.

Adam spun his racket in hand with a grin.

"This will be fun. Let’s go easy on Nero, yeah?"

Lux chuckled, stretching his shoulders.

"Speak for yourself. He’ll learn faster if we play seriously."

Nero sighed, taking the racket handed to him. It felt strange in his hand—lighter than a sword, awkward in balance, almost toy-like. He gave it a few swings in the air, frowning.

"This doesn’t feel right."

"That’s because you’re thinking of it like a weapon," Adam said, bouncing a ball casually before tossing it up and catching it.

"Think of it more like... coordination training. Timing, rhythm. You’ll get it."

The match began with Adam serving. He tossed the ball up, swung, and with a loud smack, it flew across the court. Nero’s eyes widened at the speed, and by the time he swung his racket, the ball had already bounced past him.

"Point!" Adam laughed, pumping his fist.

Nero scowled. "That was too fast!"

Lux, standing on the sidelines, smirked knowingly. "Welcome to tennis. Anticipation is key. Watch his shoulders and swing—don’t just follow the ball."

They rotated, with Nero facing Lux next. Lux’s serve was smoother, less forceful than Adam’s but precise, curving just so. Nero lunged to the side, swung awkwardly—fwip! The racket missed entirely, and the ball rolled harmlessly behind him.

Adam burst into laughter. "Haha! You didn’t even touch it little Nero!"

"Shut up!" Nero snapped, cheeks heating. He reset his grip on the racket, muttering under his breath, "Swordplay is easier..."

But despite his grumbling, Nero kept trying. Ball after ball came his way, and ball after ball either whizzed past him, bounced off the racket frame, or went flying into the hedges when he did manage to connect. Lux remained composed, offering quiet advice:

"Loosen your wrist, don’t choke the handle. Footwork first, swing second."

Adam, meanwhile, was merciless. "Come on, Nero! Even the maids could’ve returned that one!"

"I’ll hit you with this racket if you don’t shut up!" Nero barked, his competitive fire flaring.

Slowly, painfully, he began to adjust. His footwork grew sharper, his reactions quicker. He actually returned one of Adam’s serves, the ball skidding across the net with a sloppy bounce.

Adam blinked, impressed. "Oh-ho, he lives!"

Nero smirked smugly. "Told you I’d figure it out."

Lux nodded approvingly. "Better. Keep that up."

The three played on, rotating matches and laughing as Nero fumbled, recovered, and fumbled again. Adam was naturally athletic, chasing balls across the court with explosive speed and smashing them back with power. Lux was elegant, conserving energy with efficient movement and precise strikes that always forced his opponent into difficult positions.

Nero... was chaos. When he hit, the ball went flying in unpredictable arcs—sometimes dangerously close to Adam’s face, sometimes bouncing weakly into the net. Yet his determination never wavered, and his pride kept him from quitting even as he lost round after round.

By mid-afternoon, sweat clung to their foreheads, shirts sticking to their backs. The sun glared down, their shadows stretching across the neat lines of the court.

"Game, set, Adam!" Lux called as Adam scored another point, sending the ball spinning just out of Nero’s reach.

Adam wiped his brow, grinning. "Another win. You’re really hopeless, Nero."

Nero dropped onto the grass, panting.

"Hopeless, huh? At least I lasted longer this time."

Lux chuckled, offering Nero a hand to help him up. "That you did. You’ll improve quickly if you keep at it. You have the instincts, just not the technique."

Adam flopped down beside them, laughing.

"Instincts don’t count when the ball’s halfway across the court."

Nero shot him a glare but couldn’t suppress a chuckle himself. "Fine, fine. You’re both better than me. For now."

After nearly two hours of play, they finally decided to call it a day. Servants brought cold towels and chilled drinks, which they gratefully accepted. Nero pressed the towel against his face, savoring the cool relief, while Adam chugged water like a man dying of thirst.

The three sat together on a bench overlooking the court, catching their breath. Beyond the hedges, the faint buzz of cicadas filled the lazy afternoon air.

"That was fun," Adam said between gulps of water. "We should do it again tomorrow."

Nero groaned. "Tomorrow? My arms are already dead."

Lux smirked. "Consider it another form of training. If nothing else, it teaches focus and reflex."

Nero sighed, leaning back against the bench with closed eyes. Despite the humiliating losses, he couldn’t deny the strange sense of satisfaction. He had fought, he had failed, but he had learned—and he did have fun.

The sun was slowly beginning its descent, painting the court in warm amber hues. Blake still hadn’t appeared, likely sleeping through the entire afternoon. But for the three who had trained, sparred, eaten, and now played, the day felt complete in its own right.