The city slowly melted into the horizon, swallowed by the amber haze of sunset.

The once-bustling cobblestone streets faded into winding forest paths lined with tall, ancient trees whose branches reached across the road like the arms of slumbering giants. The evening air was cool and damp with the scent of pine, soil, and the faint trace of distant rain.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was far quieter. Miss Hilda sat upright near the window, one hand propping up her cheek as her gaze lingered on the forest passing by. Her satchel of herbs rested neatly beside her — organized into small bundles tied with string, labeled in her crisp handwriting.

Even after the long day, she maintained her composure, though the subtle lines beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.

Raiden, meanwhile, was the complete opposite. He was slumped in his seat, head tipped back, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling limply over the side. Every now and then, his head bobbed as the carriage hit a bump.

He half-opened one eye, groaning softly.

[Reward Processing… Calculating Outcome.]

The faint blue text hovered lazily in the corner of his vision.

Raiden frowned at it. "Even the system needs a nap, huh?" he mumbled under his breath, voice thick with fatigue.

Miss Hilda didn't even glance at him. "If you're talking to yourself again, I'll assume you're plotting something."

Raiden grinned weakly. "No plotting… promise. Just… waiting for my reward."

Hilda shot him a sidelong look — the kind that could silence even the boldest troublemaker. "A reward, hmm? Perhaps we should calculate how many people you've terrified this week."

That earned a small laugh from Raiden before he sank back into the plush seat, closing his eyes again. The rhythmic hum of the carriage wheels over dirt soon lulled him toward sleep. His last conscious thought drifted lazily through his mind — that soft, tingling anticipation of the system's next surprise.

Outside, the world dimmed to gold and violet hues. Rays of sunlight flickered through the small carriage window, glancing across Raiden's peaceful face and catching in Miss Hilda's hair. For the first time that day, everything seemed calm.

By the time they rolled past the great Goldheart gates, the last light of day had given way to twilight.

The guards stationed at the entrance straightened and saluted. The grand crest of House Goldheart gleamed faintly on their armor. Miss Hilda offered them a polite nod while the carriage creaked to a stop on the stone-paved courtyard.

The vast estate stretched before them, its towers lit by the warm glow of oil lamps. The distant hum of servants moving through the halls, the scent of baked bread from the kitchens, the faint rustle of leaves — all spoke of home.

Miss Hilda exhaled softly, stepping down from the carriage. She arched her back with a small stretch and rubbed her neck, muttering "old bones and long rides."

A muffled yawn came from inside.

Raiden emerged next — or rather, fell out — half-asleep and muttering, "It's still not done huh? still…"

A maid gasped and rushed forward, steadying him before he hit the ground.

"Welcome home, Young Lord," she said, trying to suppress a smile.

Raiden blinked drowsily, hair sticking out in every direction. "Mmh… home?" He looked around as if he hadn't realized where they were.

Hilda pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly…"

The maids bowed respectfully as she ushered the drowsy boy toward the manor's inner hall. Raiden followed in slow, uneven steps, yawning every few seconds and muttering about "reward delays" as though the system could hear him complaining.

Inside, the warmth of the estate wrapped around them like a blanket. The scent of lavender and polished wood filled the corridor as they made their way to Raiden's chambers.

Hilda's voice softened for the first time that day. "For once," she murmured, half to herself, "you're not scheming or sneaking off. I might actually get a quiet evening."

Raiden didn't respond. His head drooped slightly — he was too tired even for mischief. All he wanted at this point was his reward.

Raiden's room glowed with soft lamplight. It was an elegant yet comfortable space — shelves lined with books and trinkets, curtains drawn to keep out the evening chill, and of course, his massive bed that looked almost too luxurious for a child his age.

Miss Hilda guided him inside and gestured for him to climb into bed. Raiden obeyed sluggishly, yawning so wide it nearly unhinged his jaw.

"Shoes off," Hilda reminded, crossing her arms.

Raiden lazily kicked them off, one landing halfway under a chair. "See? Obedient," he mumbled, collapsing onto the bed.

Hilda rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. She moved to tuck him in, fluffing his pillows and adjusting the thick blanket until only his messy mop of hair and sleepy eyes peeked out.

"Comfortable?" she asked softly.

"Too… soft," Raiden murmured, already drifting. "Need… my reward…"

Hilda chuckled under her breath. "Of course you do." She smiled at his childish act thinking he wanted her to reward him after today. "I'll give you a reward another time."

She brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead, her expression softening in that rare way it did when no one else was watching.

Then, almost like a quiet prayer, she whispered, "Saints, please let this child find peace long enough not to blow up the manor."

Her gaze lingered on his small, resting face, the faintest hint of fondness curling her lips. "Too handsome to be this mischievous."

She blew out a quiet laugh at herself. The boy was trouble, yes — relentless, cunning, endlessly curious — but there was also something irresistibly bright about him. Like fire contained in a glass lamp. Dangerous, but dazzling.

As the flickering lamplight played across the room, Raiden's breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep. His hand twitched once, as if grasping at something unseen. Perhaps even in dreams, he was reaching for mischief.

Hilda sighed softly and turned toward the door, ready to leave him to his rest.

The room had fallen completely still. Only the faint crackle of the oil lamp and Raiden's steady breathing filled the air.

Miss Hilda adjusted the blanket one last time and straightened, ready to slip out silently. She didn't notice the quiet figure standing just beyond the doorway — not until a soft, melodic voice broke the silence.

"You pray he behaves?"

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