Chapter 221 | Where Are You Going?

Chapter 221: 221 | Where Are You Going?

The two of them stayed together through the night.

Not speaking nor moving, just existing in the same space, shoulder to shoulder, warmth flowing into cold.

Dexter had stayed awake through all of it.

He had felt the weight of her head settling against him. Felt her arms, which had been resting on her knees, slowly unfold and find his waist and felt as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it loosely, the way a child grips a blanket in sleep.

He didn’t move.

For the second night in a row, he sat perfectly still for hours, his body stiff and his legs numb and his mana reserves slowly depleting from the sustained output of the Abyssal Flame.

Morning came slowly and Dexter’s eyes snapped open.

The first thing he registered was weight, a warm, solid weight pressed against his chest and wrapped around his waist. He looked down.

Selene was sleeping on him.

Her head rested against his chest, just below his collarbone, her silver-white hair spilling across his shirt in a cascade of moonlight-colored silk.

Her arms were wrapped around his waist, both of them, her fingers interlaced at the small of his back and her breathing was slow.

The Eternal Winter Ice, which typically made her sleep restless and broken, had been suppressed throughout the night by the steady warmth of his Heavenly Flame, and the result was the another peaceful sleep.

A faint, barely audible sound escaped within her lips. She wasn’t snoring but it sounded like a cat’s purr.

Dexter looked down at her sleeping face and she was extremely beautiful to him. If a man was to wake up to such beauty, then they are lucky for a hundred lifetimes.

"Cute," he muttered uncontrollably before he could stop himself.

So not to startle her awake, he wanted to turn off the alarm for today and also chevked the time.

4:30 AM.

He needed to start cooking.

One hundred portions of Grade One Enchanted Meal. That was the order Tessa had placed yesterday.

Which meant he needs to start cooking them soon.

Dexter began the careful, painstaking process of extracting himself from Selene’s embrace without waking her.

His withdrew his arms first and then shifted his torso. He leaned forward slowly, creating space between his chest and her head. This gave her room to settle onto the pillow rather than onto the empty space.

Suddenly, Selene’s arms tightened making Dexter freeze.

’This girl.’

He chuckled as her face pressed even harder against his chest and a small sound of protest.

"Mmm~"

Dexter held still and waited for her grip to stabilize. Then patiently, he extracted his other arm and his body. A process which took 5 minutes.

Eventually, he was free as he slid off the bed.

He turned back to the bed. Selene had settled into the space he had vacated, her face now pressed into his pillow instead of his chest. Her arms, finding nothing to hold, had curled around the pillow he had used as backrest and were gripping it.

Dexter reached for the duvet at the foot of the bed, tucking the edges around her shoulders.

She looked very peaceful with a tiny smile at the corner of her lips.

Dexter watched her for a moment, then inhaled deeply to calm his rising self and he turned to leave.

Suddenly-

"Tap..."

A hand gripped his arm. Dexter stopped and looked back.

Selene’s hand had wrapped around his wrist.

Her eyes were half open as through barely conscious.

"Where... are you going?" she murmured in a sluggish and groggy voice.

Dexter looked at her and smiled as he realized she was sleep talking.

He bent down beside her and his face came close to hers. Then gently, he reached out and started to stroke her hair. Running his fingers through the cool, silky strands, pushing them back from her face, smoothing them against the pillow.

"Sleep," he whispered.

Selene’s eyes, which had been half open fluttered and then she eventually slept.

Her grip on his arm loosened as her fingers relaxed and her hand slipped away, falling back onto the mattress beside her face, the fingers curling slightly inward as they released their hold.

She was asleep again.

Dexter straightened up. He watched her for one more moment. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

--

He walked to the kitchen and began.

The process of making one hundred portions of Grade One Enchanted Meal was, by now, a familiar routine.

He started the rice first. While the rice cooked, he prepped the vegetables.

The Arcane Nutrition Insight guided his combinations.

He cooked through the early morning hours. The kitchen filled with the familiar, comforting aromas of seasoned rice and seared chicken. The pots bubbled. The oil sizzled. The knife board rattled with the rhythmic percussion of chopping.

By 5:30 AM, the first fifty portions were done. Packed. Sealed. Stacked.

By 6:30 AM, the second fifty were finished.

Dexter placed them all in his spatial storage, organized and counted, and turned his attention to the girls’ breakfast.

This was different.

For the girls, he didn’t hold back.

He pulled out the ingredients that no amount of money could buy at a market. Diamond Rice, Transcendent-Class beast meat, Star Essence Serum, Millennium Blood Ginseng, Void Spirit Lotus, etc.

The Type-II Spirit Cooking Pot came out as the heavenly Flame ignited. His Great Grandmaster Foodsmith techniques activated fully.

[Ding! Congratulations! You have successfully created Celestial Phoenix Nectar Bowl (Grade 5)]

[Effect: Accelerates meridian repair by 40%. Stimulates nerve regeneration. Boosts mana regeneration for 8 hours. Induces deep cellular healing. Strengthens bloodline integration. Increases cultivation speed by 300% for 6 hours.]

The Transcendent-Class meat had pushed the meal two grades higher than the Celestial Dawn Nectar Bowl from two days ago. The effects were extraordinary. Targeted. Designed specifically for the girls’ conditions.

Dexter plated four bowls. The food glowed as thin wisps of steam rose in spirals that seemed to form patterns, shapes that might have been characters from a language older than civilization.

He carried the bowls to the dining table. Set them down. Then turned back toward the kitchen to wash the pots.

And saw Lyra.

She was standing at the edge of the kitchen doorway. Her dark hair was wet, freshly washed, hanging in damp strands that dripped onto the shoulders of her clean shirt. Her AI glasses sat on her nose. Her dark eyes were fixed on the food with the particular, luminous intensity that Dexter had come to recognize as her default setting.

A small line of drool hung from the corner of her mouth.

Dexter shook his head.

"Good morning, Lyra."

Lyra blinked. Her eyes, which had been locked on the glowing bowls of Grade Five food, slowly moved to his face. The drool remained. She didn’t seem to be aware of it.

She had just bathed. Her hair was wet. Droplets of water clung to her jaw and ran down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. The scent of soap mixed with the aroma of the food, creating a combination that was simultaneously domestic and appetizing.

Dexter walked toward her. He raised his hand.

Lyra saw the hand coming. Her eyes tracked it. She could have moved, the old Lyra would have, but she didn’t.

Dexter’s hand found her head. His fingers sank into her wet hair and he rubbed gently, his palm moving across her scalp, his fingers spreading the moisture evenly through the strands.