English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicArknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Texas’ Past and Her Legs
Thump, thump, thud.
Aside from Texas herself, the three members of Penguin Logistics currently gathered in the room all shared the exact same sinking feeling.
Even Lucian had never anticipated that Angelina would show up at their door just to deliver a letter addressed to Texas. The math was dangerously simple: Angelina hailed from Siracusa, and Texas’ roots were buried deep in that very same mafia-run nation. Whoever had handed this envelope to the young Messenger was undoubtedly tied to the dark, bloody underbelly of Siracusa.
Texas’ past was not a topic for polite conversation. While Lucian harbored his own abyssal secrets, his were largely tied to the grand, sweeping politics of Laterano. Texas’ history, on the other hand, was painted in a much grimmer, far more personal shade of red.
Oblivious to the sudden drop in room temperature, Angelina stood there with an innocent smile, simply fulfilling her duties as a Messenger with diligent pride.
Exusiai and Croissant exchanged a rapid, panicked glance. In a flash of unspoken understanding, they sprang into action.
“Texas!” Exusiai practically shouted, her halo flashing brightly. “Come play a game with me! You know, that new VR one where you slice up enemies with a lightsaber! With a gun, I can blow out a target’s organs from a mile away, but with a sword, I always swing wide. You have to teach me!”
Croissant immediately pivoted toward the Vulpo girl. “Angelina, Angelina! Come with me to set up a night stall! I’ve hoarded a ton of junk… ah, wait, I mean highly valuable vintage trinkets! The Lungmen nightlife is incredible, you get to see all sorts of weirdos! Heck, if you just sold the loose hair you shed from that fluffy tail of yours, we’d make a fortune! Ugh, I’m so jealous of races with that much volume!”
It was a terrible act. Painfully, transparently fake.
Yet, they were trying their absolute hardest to derail the atmosphere, physically wedging themselves between Texas and Angelina to pretend the ominous letter didn’t exist.
Unfortunately for them, while the young Messenger looked thoroughly confused by the sudden outbursts, Texas was not so easily handled. She smoothly sidestepped Exusiai’s grasping hands and plucked the envelope right out of Angelina’s grip.
“I’ll take it. Thank you.”
Texas’ voice was completely flat. She was unexpectedly calm—perhaps entirely too calm.
Her lack of reaction left Exusiai and Croissant frozen in place, utterly bewildered by the anticlimax. Before the Sankta could recover, Texas reached out and clamped a firm grip around Exusiai’s wrist.
“What’s wrong?” Texas asked, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. “Weren’t we going to play a game? I’ll teach you hand-in-hand. Go boot up the console.”
Exusiai’s eye twitched violently. “Uh… if you teach me hand-in-hand right now, my shoulders and waist are going to snap in half… Wah! Lucian, please save me!”
Sorry, I cannot save you.
Lucian folded his hands together, silently praying for the energetic angel for exactly two seconds. Based on a conservative estimate, Exusiai wouldn’t be able to drag herself out of bed for the rest of the day.
Clearing his throat, Lucian acted as if the kidnapping hadn’t just occurred. He turned to the Forte. “Croissant, weren’t you going to take Angelina out to set up a stall? Go ahead and show her the ropes. Just make sure you head back early tonight, and keep a wide berth from the Lungmen Guard Department patrols. Don’t let her run into any trouble.”
“You got it, boss!” Croissant, always quick to read the room when money or survival was on the line, immediately began gathering her inventory bags and ushering the bewildered Vulpo toward the door.
Though Angelina was sweet and innocent, she certainly wasn’t stupid. She could easily sense the heavy, suffocating shift in the atmosphere that had just taken place.
She paused at the threshold, looking back with worried eyes. “Mr. Lucian, did I do something wrong?”
Lucian offered her a warm, reassuring smile. “It’s nothing at all. It might have been something in the past, but right now, everything is perfectly fine.”
Once the girls had cleared out, Lucian settled into his daily routine. He started by tidying up the chaotic living room, gathering the scattered snack wrappers and half-empty cups, before moving on to scrub the bathroom. Finally, he collected their discarded clothes for the laundry.
It was during this chore that Angelina’s impeccable upbringing truly shone. No matter how many times Lucian lectured them, the hopelessly unfeminine operatives of Penguin Logistics refused to fold their clothes. Their discarded jackets, shirts, and intimate wear were always left in a tangled, chaotic heap at the bottom of the laundry basket, completely devoid of any mystery or allure.
Angelina, however, was a different story entirely. Not only were her clothes neatly folded, but she had adorably tucked her delicate underwear beneath her heavier outerwear, hiding them from plain sight. It painted a vivid, endearing picture of her reserved and shy nature.
She truly was an angel.
With the laundry running, Lucian retreated to his private room. He rolled up his sleeve, routinely drew a measured amount of his own blood, and fed it into the specialized machine to synthesize his daily batch of blood-replenishing sugar. After securing the vital Oripathy-treating candy, he quickly took inventory of the tea leaves and ingredients required for opening the shop tomorrow.
Tasks complete, Lucian rolled his stiff shoulders and stepped back out into the dimly lit living room.
Texas was lying on the sofa, quietly eating a stick of Pocky.
Lucian walked over and took a seat on the cushion right by her feet. “Remember to brush your teeth before bed. Where’s Exusiai?”
“Collapsed.”
Texas bit down, the crisp snap of the biscuit echoing in the quiet room. “Her stamina is terrible. I had barely finished warming up, and she was already panting with her tongue hanging out and her eyes rolling back.”
Lucian chuckled, leaning back against the armrest. “Don’t underestimate her based on a VR game. She’s actually considered one of the most physically gifted operatives back in Laterano. Her Originium Arts with firearms are exceptional. Honestly, if she had stayed in the homeland, she would have easily been promoted to the highest rank of Saint Battle Angel before her twentieth birthday.”
Texas blinked, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing her stoic features. “I don’t really understand the internal hierarchy of the angels. Is that like a military rank?”
“More or less,” Lucian replied, his tone casual. “Laterano doesn’t really operate on the concept of traditional national warfare. Our borders are mostly guarded by specialized squads made up of Liberi. As for internal criminals among the Sankta, we have special agents like the Notarial Hall Enforcers to handle them. The only time the angels ever engage in large-scale external warfare is for one specific reason—religious Holy Wars… Ah. This topic isn’t very interesting. Sorry about that.”
Lucian hit the brakes on his own sentence, letting out a dry laugh. As he spoke, his hand had drifted, coming to rest casually on the sofa cushion just a breath away from the curve of Texas’ thigh.
Texas noticed the sudden shift. She knew he was deliberately changing the subject to avoid digging too deep into his own history. But she didn’t press him.
She knew Lucian and Exusiai harbored heavy secrets, just as she did. The very reason the employees of Penguin Logistics functioned so perfectly as a family was because they all understood the delicate art of maintaining distance even in moments of deep intimacy. They never crossed the unspoken boundaries the others laid down.
Instead of pulling away, Texas shifted her weight. She lifted her leg, sliding her slender calf—wrapped tightly in sheer black tights—directly onto Lucian’s lap.
The texture of the dark fabric was smooth against his clothes, the sudden, warm weight of her leg sending a quiet jolt of electricity through the dim room. After noting the subtle, heavy shift in the man’s breathing, she spoke, her voice a low, nonchalant murmur.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who sent that letter?”
“Ah? Are your legs always this slender?”
His mind had entirely short-circuited, completely zeroing in on the sensation resting across his lap.
Texas rolled her amber eyes at him. “Don’t play dumb. One idiot like Croissant in this house is more than enough.”
Lucian let out a soft chuckle, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of her knee. “I’m not playing dumb. I just figured that if you were actually willing to talk about it, you would have done so when Exusiai and Croissant were still in the room.”
“I only want to talk about it now.”
Texas held his gaze, her eyes gleaming bright in the low light. The usual cold distance in her expression had melted away, leaving something intensely focused and private. “I don’t want to tell them. Only you.”
“…Alright.”
Lucian took a slow, deep breath, the playful atmosphere vanishing as his expression turned entirely serious. “Texas, who sent you that letter? Did it affect you?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head slightly, her dark hair shifting against the sofa cushions. “Whoever sent it probably expected me to have some massive, emotional reaction. But honestly? There was nothing at all. I’m actually surprised by my own apathy.”
Without breaking eye contact, Texas reached into her pocket and casually handed the opened letter to Lucian.
It was handwritten—an incredibly rare sight in this modern era of instant communication. The heavy parchment still carried the faint, metallic fragrance of expensive fountain pen ink. The penmanship was elegant, sharp, and carefully neat. Just from a single glance, Lucian could tell the author was someone highly educated and deeply entrenched in high society.
Lucian stared at the flowing script for a long, heavy moment. He analyzed the curves, the sharp indents, and the aggressive strokes. Finally, he looked back up at Texas with absolute, unwavering seriousness.
“Texas… I don’t understand a single word of this. What does it say?”
“…”
Texas let out a long, exhausted sigh, seriously reflecting on the fact that she never should have expected this man to maintain a serious atmosphere for more than two minutes.