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ArabicArknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 35
Chapter 35: Do You Have to Talk About It Here?
“Hmph, ah… I’ve slept enough!”
Lucian stretched, throwing off the covers. He felt completely refreshed. Today was shaping up to be another good day. He tapped his phone screen, swiping away the pink-themed app he’d been scrolling through before bed. The digital clock read exactly 6:00 AM.
After his late-night heart-to-heart with Angelina, he hadn’t crawled into his room until past two in the morning. Less than four hours of sleep would leave a normal person groggy, but Lucian felt a surge of crisp energy coursing through his veins.
He chalked it up to the physiological perks of his race. Ever since he was a kid, Lucian had realized a peculiar quirk: whenever he focused his consciousness on the glowing Sankta halo hovering above his head, his mind would sharpen into crystal clarity. It was far more effective than reciting any meditation mantra.
Initially, he assumed every Sankta shared this trait. That illusion shattered the moment he asked Exusiai about it. The energetic sniper had just stared at him, complaining that her halo was nothing more than a perpetually annoying, un-switch-off-able lightbulb. Lucian, on the other hand, could extinguish his halo at will and use it as an internal auxiliary system to keep himself awake. With so many rule-breaking exceptions, it was no wonder the other Sankta revered him as a literal saint.
Still, Lucian clung to his materialistic worldview. There had to be a logical, scientific reason for his abilities. He absolutely refused to believe the ridiculous myth that some Minotaur-loving deity had cuckolded an honest man just to sire him. More, he had zero interest in becoming a test subject locked in a sterile laboratory. The angels who worshipped him were already fanatical enough; he preferred to keep a low profile rather than shatter their hopes or invite unwanted scrutiny.
“Could Originium Arts explain it?…Probably not.”
Lucian let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle. He tossed the philosophical musings aside. Reality was calling, and reality meant opening his tea shop and selling soy milk.
He planned to ask Angelina to help out today. Whether the young Volpo decided to stay in Lungmen permanently was a question for another day. For now, getting her out of the house and familiarizing her with the city’s rhythm was the best course of action.
With his morning agenda set, Lucian padded down the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door.
“Ah…”
Inside, Croissant froze. The Defender was currently occupying the toilet, and she turned her head to lock eyes with Lucian as the door swung wide.
Lucian paused. His face remained entirely blank, a mask of absolute deadpan calm as he stared at her back. Without a single word, he smoothly shifted into reverse, pulling the door shut with fluid, unhesitating precision.
“Ah, wait! I have something to tell you!” Croissant shouted, her hand slamming against the wood to keep the door cracked open. She actively wedged her weight against it, refusing to let him retreat.
In this absurd standoff over basic human dignity—primarily Lucian’s—Croissant stubbornly pressed her case. “Lucian, hey, Lucian! Do you really want Angelina to stay here forever?”
“…Do you absolutely have to talk about this here?” Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowing so deeply they could wring water.
Croissant gritted her teeth, her fingers white-knuckling the doorframe. “You think I want to? Angelina is already awake. If we talk out in the living room, she might hear us… Look, I’m shy too, okay? If you promise not to peek, I’ll allow you to stand there with your back turned to me!”
“You’re the one who shouldn’t be exposing anything to me,” Lucian retorted, staring at the ceiling. “Why do I have to stand here and listen to you let out—”
A roll of toilet paper flew through the crack in the door, smacking Lucian squarely in the back of the head and cutting off his blunt observation.
The bizarre dynamic was set. There was no escaping this conversation now.
Shifting restlessly on the porcelain throne, Croissant lowered her voice. “I heard Angelina talking in bed last night. She still has parents back in Siracusa. She’s not like us, Lucian. She has a real family waiting for her to come home. So wouldn’t it be better for her if we figured out a way to help her get back?”
“…The Infected cannot be cured. As long as that issue isn’t resolved, she can’t go back. Can she?”
It was a stroke of luck that his back was turned, sparing Croissant the sight of his deeply guilty expression. Texas was one thing, but Lucian absolutely refused to let Croissant in on his deepest secret. It wasn’t that he feared she would maliciously leak the information. It was simply that if the energetic Defender found out his blood-replenishing sugar could actually cure Oripathy, she might cheerfully go get herself Infected just for the thrill of it. This Bread Man was entirely capable of such reckless stupidity.
Naturally, he had already considered the very thing Croissant was agonizing over. Lucian could completely cure Oripathy. He had already proven it. The catch was that a full cure required a much longer, more drastic treatment plan than just a daily dose of his brown sugar candy to suppress the Originium assimilation rate.
Lucian wasn’t unwilling to go the distance for Angelina. He was just thinking several steps ahead. Even if he cured her, and she returned to Siracusa to live a normal life, would the people around her accept it? How would her parents, or anyone who knew she had contracted Oripathy, explain her miraculous recovery?
Lucian trusted Angelina implicitly, but he wasn’t naive enough to extend that trust to her entire social circle. The moment a confirmed cure leaked, powerful factions would trace the miracle back to Lungmen, and his peaceful days of brewing tea would violently end. He needed to tread carefully. At the very least, he would wait until he had spent more time with Angelina, until she genuinely expressed a desperate desire for a full cure.
Oblivious to the heavy thoughts weighing on Lucian’s mind, Croissant let out a frustrated groan. “That’s true. Siracusa hates the Infected just as much as anywhere else… Ah! Then how about we bring her parents over here? We can move them to Lungmen to live with her!”
Lucian let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Your brain is entirely filled with soy milk. Her parents have a good life. They’ve lived in Siracusa their entire lives, settled and content. And you want to uproot them, drag them all the way to the Lungmen Slums, and force them to live in hiding? Why do you think Angelina left home alone in the first place? Try to learn a fraction of that girl’s gentle consideration.”
“…I’m really sorry I’m not a gentle woman at all. Hmph!”
Croissant puffed her cheeks, being uncharacteristically difficult. The pouty attitude actually made Lucian find her a tiny bit cute. Maybe about one-thousandth as cute as Angelina, but still.
He knew Croissant’s heart was in the right place, but these massive life decisions had to be made by Angelina herself. Pushing the issue wouldn’t help. Deciding the conversation had run its course, Lucian ignored Croissant’s attempts to keep arguing, let go of the door, and stepped away.
The moment he turned around, a sharp, startled squeak echoed in the hallway.
A small, eavesdropping Volpo stumbled backward. Angelina had been pressed right up against the bathroom door. She looked up at Lucian, her face burning a brilliant shade of crimson, and offered an incredibly awkward, shy smile.
“L-Lucian… I’m sorry to interrupt you two… Ah, I really didn’t hear anything, I promise! You can rest assured! I won’t bother you anymore, please continue!”
‘Angelina… are you a door god?’
Lucian stood frozen in the hallway, watching the flustered high school girl sprint back to her bedroom in a panic, completely misunderstanding the nature of his bathroom standoff.
Behind him, Croissant’s muffled voice yelled through the wood, demanding he come back and finish the conversation.
…This day was already a chaotic mess, and it was barely past dawn.