Chapter 200: Tomorrow

Late afternoon sunlight lay across the veranda of a small wooden farmhouse on Vance land.

Beyond the steps, strawberry rows ran down the gentle slope. A basket stood by the gate, half full. Someone had left a pair of muddy boots beside it.

Lucian Vance, seventeen, was asleep in a wicker chair with his hat over his face.

The chair creaked when he shifted. From inside the house came the soft clatter of dinner preparation.

He woke just enough to check the time.

Thirty minutes. He could have thirty more minutes before he needed to move.

He lowered the hat again. Nothing prevented it.

* * *

When he next opened one eye beneath the brim, the sunlight had moved across his shoes.

His half hour was over. He had used all of it. Gravel crunched on the path.

Astra arrived first, carrying a travel bag and a parcel wrapped in brown paper. She set both beside the steps, spotted the basket, and helped herself to a strawberry.

Lucian closed his eye again. “Those are inventory.” “Quality inspection.” “Thief.”

She ate another. “Good batch.”

“Your sample size is becoming a financial issue.”

Astra picked up her parcel and went inside, calling for Valeria. A moment later, he heard her explaining where she’d found the jar of preserves she had brought back.

Sylvia came up the path with a newly published historical volume under her arm.

She placed it on the little table beside his chair. Her name was on the spine.

Lucian tipped the hat back. “Royalties?”

“Mine.”

“I funded the institute.” “Donation.”

He looked at the book.

“Worst contract I’ve ever signed.”

Sylvia smiled, adjusted the volume so it wouldn’t sit in a ring left by his glass, and went to wash her hands.

Evelyn arrived late, wiping something off one sleeve with a cloth that had stopped being useful several hours earlier.

“You smell like machine lubricant,” Lucian said. “You smell unemployed.”

“Jealous.”

“Profoundly.”

She hung her work bag on a peg by the door and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.

Eleanor’s carriage reached the gate as the wind began to cool. Lucian sat a little straighter.

She spoke briefly to the driver, took her own bag, and came through the gate. Before reaching the veranda, she slipped off the formal outer coat she wore for diplomatic travel and folded it over her arm.

She put it beside Sylvia’s book, pulled the second chair close, and sat down.

“Long trip?” “Very.”

Her shoulder settled against his.

He gave her a moment before asking, “How long are you staying?” “Four days.”

“Only four?”

Eleanor turned her head. Lucian looked toward the fields. “There are farm accounts.”

“Of course.” “Complicated ones.” She took his hand. He left it there.

Inside, Astra was laughing at something Evelyn had said. Sylvia called for someone to move a book away from the sink. Each of them had other places to be, work Lucian hadn’t assigned, plans that did not run through his desk.

They had found an evening and come.

He’d spent years arranging for people to need him as little as possible. He hadn’t known what to do with the part where they still wanted him there.

Eleanor’s thumb moved once across his knuckles.

For the moment, staying in the chair seemed adequate. Lucian opened the System with his free hand.

[ACTIVE QUESTS]

None.

He scrolled.

[EMERGENCY DIRECTIVES]

None.

Another page.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

[PENDING WORLD-LEVEL INTERVENTIONS]

None.

[PASSIVE INCOME STATUS]

Obnoxiously sufficient.

“Perfect.”

The next tab opened under his finger.

[COMBAT POWER]

Current evaluation: Unnecessary for dinner.

He closed the interface.

The week’s mail had contained Grid incidents, arguments be-tween governments, and a dwarven supplier’s attempt to charge extra for a hole in a bracket. Solaris and Tartarus were arguing about tariffs again. Trains still ran late. Sylvia’s scholars disagreed in print, often enthusiastically. Evelyn’s engineers released bad updates, withdrew them, and sent out patches.

Eleanor had lost an argument on this trip. She’d told him so without asking him to fix it. Astra had accepted one job on her travels and refused another.

The Nameless Knight continued to sell.

Lucian could think about the supplier’s hole tomorrow. He already knew what he intended to say about it.

For now, the kitchen smelled of fried fish.

* * *

Regulus was peeling potatoes with sword aura.

The peels rose in a delicate spiral above the bowl. It was an astonishing display of control, right up until a strip landed in Valeria’s pot.

“Regulus.” “It’s faster.”

“You’re putting peel in the food.”

He lowered his hand. The remaining peels dropped onto the table. Lucian leaned in the doorway.

His father picked up an ordinary knife with the air of a master artist accepting a difficult commission.

“Son. What do you think about opening a western trade route?”

“The inland route’s cheaper. I’d start with a small trial and use the existing warehouses.”

Regulus turned the potato in his hand.

“Mm. I was thinking of the coast. More expensive at first, but I know the ports.” He considered it a little longer. “I’ll try it my way this time.”

Lucian could have asked for the figures. He could have spent the evening drawing lines across a map while the potatoes went cold.

“Okay.”

His father nodded and went back to peeling.

Valeria put a loaded serving plate into Lucian’s hands. “Take this to the table.”

“I own three logistics companies.” “Take it.”

“…Yes, Mom.”

Evelyn held the door for him. Her expression suggested she intended to retain that exchange for future use.

“Delete it,” he told her. “Haven’t written it down.” “Preemptively.”

He carried the plate through.

* * *

They had fish, potatoes, vegetables, and enough food for several people who hadn’t been invited.

Valeria put an extra serving dish beside the others anyway.

Astra began describing a mountain inn where the owner mea-sured his portions against the appetite of a dwarf. Thorbjorn would have approved, apparently. Lucian asked whether the prices reflected this sensible policy and received a strawberry across the table for his trouble.

Sylvia was explaining why a reviewer had objected to the title of her third chapter.

“He wanted ‘A Definitive History.’” “Sounds expensive,” Lucian said. “It would also be wrong.”

“Put it in smaller print.” “No.”

Evelyn reached for the potatoes and started describing a work-shop apprentice who had repaired the wrong test rig perfectly. Regulus interrupted to ask whether the apprentice wanted sword lessons. Nobody could establish the connection before Valeria asked Eleanor about her trip.

“We spent an entire afternoon on one sentence,” Eleanor said. “Good sentence?”

“Mine was.”

Lucian laughed into his glass.

The conversation moved on without anyone settling whether hers had been better. There was a disagreement over the best way to sharpen a kitchen knife, which Regulus entered with unwise confidence. Valeria defended her recipe against no criticism anyone remembered making.

When the strawberry dessert arrived, Astra sat up straighter.

Lucian mentioned the field yield. Sylvia asked whether he had counted the quality inspection. Evelyn claimed that should be classified as research expenditure.

He was preparing a response when his mother looked at his plate. “Lucian. Want some more?”

“Yeah.”

She served him.

* * *

After dinner, Lucian went back onto the veranda.

The sky over the fields still held a little light. Inside, plates clinked in the sink. Regulus was telling a story; someone interrupted him, and he started again from an earlier point.

Lucian sat in the wicker chair.

The System opened without a summons.

[SYSTEM ARCHIVE UPDATE]

HOST: LUCIAN VANCE. AGE: 17.

He waited.

[ORIGINAL OBJECTIVE]

Acquire skills. Accumulate wealth.

Increase survival probability. Secure an easy life.

“Successful,” Lucian said. The next lines appeared.

[ASSESSMENT]

Skills: Sufficient. Wealth: Excessive.

Survival infrastructure: Independent.

World-level dependency on Host: No longer required. Easy life: Available.

He smiled a little at excessive.

[NO ACTIVE PROGRESSION DIRECTIVES.]

A pause.

[SYSTEM STATUS: STANDBY.]

Lucian looked at the quiet interface. “That’s it?”

[Yes.]

“No reward?”

For a while, no new line appeared.

From the kitchen, he heard water running into a pan. Astra asked where the remaining dessert had gone. Evelyn denied knowledge much too quickly.

Then the System answered.

[REWARD]

Tomorrow.

Lucian looked past the window at the table they hadn’t finished clearing.

Tomorrow, the dishes would still need doing if nobody did them tonight. The strawberries would need picking. There were farm accounts on the shelf, and he could work on them or leave them there while he slept.

Eleanor’s coat lay over the back of a chair. In four days, she would put it on and go. She had left a book beside it with a strip of paper marking her place.

He could ask when she’d be back. He could tell her about dinner. “Fair,” he said.

The door opened.

Eleanor stood in the warm light, one hand on the frame. “Coming in?”

“In a minute.”

She nodded and went back inside.

Lucian stayed for another moment, his shoes resting on the worn boards.

The final archive entry appeared. [SYSTEM ARCHIVE: SEASON ONE] LUCIAN VANCE

AGE: 17

ACTIVE QUESTS: NONE EMERGENCY DIRECTIVES: NONE REQUIRED ROLE: NONE

[CHILDHOOD RECORD CLOSED.]

He frowned. “Childhood?”

The System gave no answer.

He read the line again, then looked toward the house. “LUCIAN!”

“Coming!”

He closed the System, got up, and went inside.

The door stayed open. Warm light spilled onto the veranda.

T H E E N D .

[SEASON ONE COMPLETE]