CHAPTER 42: TIME TO BULLSHIT

Lucius was breathless, sitting on a chair outside the training room, groaning as he looked at his swollen fist.

His knuckles were red, skin torn in places, and the dull throb ran all the way up his arm like someone was hammering nails into his bones.

The last collision had nearly broken his arm.

Even if his bones weren’t shattered, they still hurt like hell.

He flexed his fingers slightly and winced.

"Hey, take a deep breath."

Vanessa crouched in front of him, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she carefully wrapped gauze around his hand.

The sting of antiseptic filled his nostrils, he was barely tolerating it.

Lucius hissed under his breath but didn’t pull away.

What really nagged at him wasn’t the pain — it was the question scratching at his mind.

"Why aren’t you using a potion?" he asked, genuinely curious.

For all her wealth, connections, and flashy tools, it would’ve been so easy for her to just pull out a vial and end his suffering.

Vanessa’s hands didn’t pause.

She tied off the bandage with precise movements, then looked up with those sharp eyes of hers.

"A potion is a crutch," she said, voice firm.

Lucius immediately felt the incoming wave of righteous nonsense.

He braced himself.

"Taking too much of it isn’t good. You become overly reliant, and then in a real fight, when you don’t have a potion, what happens? You break. So, any wound you get during training..." She tightened the wrap, making him grunt. "...will have to heal on its own."

’Great, here comes Miss Motivational Poster,’ Lucius thought, his lips twitching.

Out loud, though, he just stared at her.

So even now, he was denied his first drink of potion since coming to this world?

The universe was cruel.

He let out a long sigh and slumped further into the chair, surrendering.

He didn’t have the strength to complain anymore.

Vanessa finished with his arm and sat down beside him.

"You know..." Lucius finally said, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

His voice was flat, but something in it carried weight. "I wasn’t really happy."

Vanessa’s head turned immediately, her violet eyes sharp with concern. "What do you mean?"

"You promised alone time," he said, still staring upward. "But instead..."

He exhaled through his nose. "We got Rita."

Her lips quivered. She lowered her gaze, guilt painting her expression.

"I know," she said softly, voice trembling at the edges. "I was just... excited. Forgive me."

Lucius almost laughed out loud.

The same woman who had punched him halfway across the training field earlier, who barked orders like a general, was suddenly fumbling like a schoolgirl.

Dominant in combat, dominant in business, dominant with other women — but in an actual heart-to-heart?

She was painfully shy.

’You’re killing me here,’ he thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his grin hidden.

"Well," he said instead, pushing himself up from the chair with a groan. "What’s done is done. You’ll just have to make it up to me tomorrow at the Guild."

Her head snapped up.

"Okay," she said quickly, nodding. "We’ll leave early, though."

"No problem here."

For a moment, they just stood there, awkwardly staring at each other.

The silence stretched until Lucius finally spread his arms slightly.

A hug.

Her eyes widened, and she froze. She had the choice of stepping forward or retreating.

After a long second, she inhaled, gathered her courage, and stepped into him.

Her arms wrapped around his torso, soft and warm.

’Her body’s soft,’ Lucius thought, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

She pulled back almost immediately, cheeks faintly flushed.

"Please get some rest," she muttered, and then she turned on her heel and ran off, boots clicking against the marble floor.

Lucius watched her vanish around the corner, his grin widening.

Then, without looking, he spoke toward the shadowy corner of the hall. "Elara, you can stop hiding now."

There was a pause, and then a slim figure emerged hesitantly.

Elara’s face was slightly red, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sleeve.

"I was just—"

"No need to explain." Lucius cut her off with a small smile. "Help me into my room. We’ve got something to compose."

She nodded quickly, moving to his side and slipping her arm under his good one.

Together they walked down the hall to his room.

...

Later, Lucius sat on the edge of his bed, his arm properly bandaged this time.

Elara had done a far cleaner job than Vanessa — neat lines that were tight but manageable.

He glanced at it and chuckled under his breath.

’Whoo, I look like Rock Lee with this,’ he thought, flexing his hand gently despite the sting.

His knuckles pulsed with pain, a reminder of every hit he’d endured.

Elara, meanwhile, was perched on a chair beside his desk, his phone in her hands.

Her fingers tapped quickly, the faint glow illuminating her delicate features.

Lucius leaned back, watching her work. L

What she was typing now would determine his reputation — his social status in this world.

The moment he applied to Grimmaw, questions would follow.

Why not join the government? Why not sell himself to the highest bidder like everyone else?

He had thought it over.

The answer was simple.

He’d bullshit it.

He wanted to bring back the Age of the Old Awakeners.

A bold, romantic goal.

Different from the rest.

Sure, it sounded cringe, but it worked.

After all, Emilia and Elliot had pulled this exact stunt in the novel.

When Grimmaw had entered the Top 5 and the press had asked about their goals, they’d answered with conviction.

People ate it up.

So, in theory, it would work for him too.

"Master, I’m done," Elara said softly, turning to face him with the phone.

He took it, scanning the lines she had crafted.

They were really good, so good that he was almost fooled himself.

’Alright.’ He clicked post with a picture of tbe contract.

And hell was unleashed.