Charles sprawled on a plush couch in Lira's room, his body still sore but more relaxed than he'd expected.
"Phew!"
He let out a sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions.
'This is ridiculously comfy,' he thought, surprised.
The last time he was here, fighting Lira, he hadn't noticed.
'How can something this cozy exist?'
It felt like sitting on a cloud, and for a moment, he almost forgot the bruises and the tight bandage on his shoulder.
Suddenly, the smell of food wafted through the room, warm and inviting.
"Mmm…!"
Charles turned his head toward the corner where Lira was cooking.
'Wait, she's got a kitchen in here?' he thought, blinking.
He hadn't clocked that part of the room last time. It was a compact setup but sleek—shiny stove, polished stone counter, and…
'No way!'
A silver fridge hummed softly.
'Lira's got a fridge in her room?'
Charles shook his head, baffled.
This place… was freaking weird.
Lira stood with her back to him, focused on the stove.
Clink clink!
She flipped a pan of cheesy stuffed rolls, the oil sizzling as they browned. On another burner, a pot bubbled with something sweet-smelling—probably the glaze for the chocolate cake.
Pop pop!
Bubbles burst on the surface, and Lira adjusted the flame with a quick flick.
Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her tunic had a smudge of flour on the sleeve.
'Doesn't look like the same girl who kicked my ass a few hours ago,' Charles thought, watching her.
He let his eyes wander around the room. They landed again on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, off and reflecting the glow of a lamp.
'Should I turn it on?' he thought, a flicker of nerves hitting him. 'It's just a TV, why am I hesitating?'
He scanned for the remote, checking the nearby table and digging through the couch cushions.
'Where is it?'
Charles leaned forward, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder.
'Come on, it's gotta be here…'
"What're you looking for?" Lira said suddenly, not turning around. Her voice was flat, not annoyed—just busy.
Chop!
She sliced something on a cutting board, probably for the cake.
Charles froze, like he'd been caught sneaking cookies.
"Uh… the TV remote," he replied, scratching the back of his neck with his good hand.
'Why do I feel like a kid doing something wrong?' he thought, annoyed at himself.
Lira set the knife down with a Clack! and kept stirring the pan.
"It's put away," she said, like it was obvious. "I don't use it much."
"Put away where?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.
'Who hides a remote like it's treasure?' he thought, still scanning the room. Lira's place was tidy, but there were too many drawers and shelves where it could be stashed.
Lira sighed, clearly focused on the food.
Sizzle!
She sprinkled shredded cheese onto the rolls, and the aroma made Charles's stomach growl again.
Grr!
"Doesn't matter where," she said, still not looking. "Clan members aren't allowed to know about the outside world. Leader's orders."
Charles blinked, processing that.
"The outside world?" he repeated, frowning.
'What kind of dumb rule is that?' he thought, irritation flaring.
"That's how it is," Lira replied, still facing the stove.
Plop!
She stirred the glaze with a spoon, tasting it with a fingertip.
"The leader says it distracts us from our purpose. The clan comes first." Her tone was rote, like she was reciting something she'd heard a thousand times.
'What a liar—she doesn't buy that crap,' Charles thought, eyeing her.
"So," he said, leaning forward on the couch, "why've you got a TV if it's banned? Aren't you breaking the rules?"
Lira rolled her eyes, though he couldn't see it.
Ding!
She pulled the rolls from the pan, setting them on a plate.
"It's for work," she said, like it was the dullest thing ever. "Sometimes I need to check reports or fight recordings. Not for fun."
Charles snorted, slumping back.
'Ha! Work, sure,' he thought, shaking his head. 'Bet she watches cooking shows on the sly.'
The idea made him smirk, though he wasn't sure why.
"How long's it gonna take?" he mumbled, more to break the quiet than because he cared.
Lira turned her head for the first time, shooting him a look that was half-irritated, half-amused.
Clink!
She set the spoon on the counter.
"Ten minutes for the rolls and ice cream," she said. "Cake's about fifteen. Chill, you're not starving to death."
Charles grinned at her words.
"Chocolate cake…" he said, savoring the thought.
Lira opened the fridge with a Hiss! and pulled out a tall glass.
Clack clack!
She filled it with ice cubes, the sound bouncing in the room. Then she held up two soda bottles—one green, one clear.
"Which one?" she asked, showing them off. "Lime or cola."
Charles didn't hesitate.
"Lime," he said, almost too fast.
'Love that stuff,' he thought, picturing the tart kick that always perked him up.
Lira nodded, pouring the soda with a Glug glug! and walking over to hand him the glass.
Clink!
The ice rattled against the glass as he took it.
"Thanks," he muttered, taking a sip. "Ahhh!"
The cold, fizzy liquid slid down his throat, crisp and bubbly, and for a second, everything else melted away.
'This is the life…' he thought, cradling the glass in both hands.
Lira returned to the counter, where the cake was taking shape. She dusted cocoa powder over the batter, tweaking details with a precision that caught Charles off guard.
'It's like she's fighting, but with food,' he thought, amused, watching her measured moves.
But then Lira paused, holding a small jar with amber liquid he couldn't quite see from his angle.
She twirled it in her fingers, hesitating.
'Should I add it…?' she thought.