The West District was a three-story stone block. No private suites here, but the vibe was solid enough.

"Stop staring," Caerus said, kicking open one of the stone doors. "This one is yours."

Yulia lingered at the threshold, her sapphire eyes scanning the hallway. "Someone should probably tell you... this is the girls' dorm."

Caerus didn't look back. "Elias tried. I told him gods go wherever they want in the world they built."

"Really. Bathrooms and dorms are off-limits unless you want to be labeled a creep. Seriously."

Caerus ignored her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the room.

Yulia stopped dead. Her jaw dropped.

It was their room. The exact room from the Temple of Abyss.

What. In. The. Actual. Hell.

"Thought of it this afternoon. Boredom," Caerus muttered, his voice as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "The commute is a pain. This array links the two points. I coded the door—only we can open it."

So, it was a biometric lock.

Yulia pressed her face to the glass, confirming the view of the dark temple of Catharsis. She turned, stunned.

"Is your secret identity Doraemon?"

Caerus: "?"

Yulia swallowed hard. "Is there any magic you can't just... invent?"

"Theoretically? No," Caerus said with a shrug. "High-tier space-time anchors usually need a massive core. The God of Radiance's spark is... barely sufficient."

Translation: He's a walking cheat code.

If he told her tomorrow he was going to blow up the moon because he didn't like the light, she'd believe him.

"Princess Yulia?" Abby stared from the kitchen, her eyes wide. "Ollie said you'd be back through that door, but... wow."

Yulia's face remained a mask of deadpan. "Believe it. Next, he's building a door to the moon."

Abby blinked. "?"

It was past dinner. Yulia fired up the stove, testing the new non-stick iron pot.

She wasn't making a feast. Just milk candy—a small test for the new hardware.

She called Jojo over from the manor.

Two days. That's all it took for the boy to look like a ghost in a tailored lord's suit.

"Jojo. You're fading away," Yulia said, stirring the milk. "Molly said the cooks know my recipes. Why are you starving?"

Giotto's gaze was hollow. "The food is fine. The time isn't."

The New Land Law had hit the Old Pigeon Cage district like a wildfire.

Owners kept the land, but peasants kept the profit, paying only a tiny tax.

The farmers were obsessed, swarming the manor like hungry chicks.

Sorting the high-yield seeds was a nightmare. Giotto and the staff were half-dead from the labor.

"Poor thing," Yulia said, her heart cold as a CEO's.

"Menningen isn't helping?"

Giotto groaned. "The Knight says he's on bodyguard duty. He went to the Academy with you."

Wait. I haven't seen him.

Giotto looked like an abandoned child left alone for the holidays.

Yulia mixed water, starch, cream, milk, and sugar.

As it thickened, she nodded at the boy. "Water magic. Cool it down. Now."

The liquid solidified. She cut it into jagged, sharp squares.

Giotto took a piece. A smile finally broke across his face.

"Work hard," Yulia said, patting his shoulder like a corrupt boss. "More snacks next time. Promise."

"Yes, Princess!"

Yulia watched him leave with half the bag. She was the overworking, gaslighting boss now.

Growth is truly tragic.

She bounced onto the bed in her pajamas, clutching the remaining candy.

"Want some? Fresh milk candy!"

She lunged too fast. The mattress was a cloud, and she nearly flew off until Caerus caught her arm.

"Sweet?"

"The sweetest."

She thrust a jagged piece toward his face. Eat it. Don't waste my labor.

Caerus watched her. He didn't reach for the bag.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand closer.

His tongue swiped across her palm, lifting the candy in one slow motion.

Yulia froze. Warm. Damp.

A sharp edge of the sugar cut his lip. A single drop of crimson blood appeared.

He wiped it with his thumb, then pressed the blood-stained digit against Yulia's lips.

Daily feeding. Complete.

Yulia's brain was a sea of question marks.

"A suggestion," Caerus said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble.

"Run the cafeteria. Feed the masses. I don't care."

"But put a sign on the door. The Golden Knight and his woman? Banned. Understand?"

"A sign is a bit much," Yulia muttered. Save some face for the poor guy.

"You're defending them?" Caerus's brow furrowed. "The knight? Or the sister?"

Yulia licked her lips, the taste of divine blood huming in her system.

A strange intimacy was growing. Trust. Dependence.

Was he her... best friend? Her roommate?

Horrifying thought.

She dove under the quilt, pulling it over her head.

"I'm defending the profit margins. I'm going to drain those rich kids dry to build the Old Pigeon district. One step at a time until we hit a glorious socialist utopia!"

Caerus: "...?"

"Goodnight, Lord Caerus! Brush your teeth or the nightmare bugs will get you."

Caerus: "...??"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was the Divine Bathing Day, set by the Holy Light Calendar—what people commonly called the weekend.

Weekends at Gaia Academy were for the elite. After the morning prayers, students spilled out into the Far East City's commercial district, hunting for silk, jewels, or ancient scrolls.

Lovers drifted to Star Lake, watching the faeries dance across the starlight reflections on the water.

Those with empty pockets or empty hearts stayed behind to grind away at their studies. Quinton was one of them. He bathed at dawn, praying until the sun hit its zenith. He felt his faith swell. He also felt his stomach turn into a hollow, aching void.

He trudged toward the arched bridge leading to the cafeteria, his mind set on a bowl of thin oatmeal. He stepped through the heavy oak doors and stopped.

"Gods... that smell."

Quinton usually survived on black bread and water. He'd learned to tune out the scent of roasted peacock or braised trotters meant for the high-born. But this was different—a thick, primal cloud of fried dough and savory meat that saturated the air.

He followed the scent, his mouth watering in a sudden, sharp reflex.

TODAY'S SPECIAL

Soup Dumplings – 5 Gold

Burgers – 5 Gold

Fries – 3 Gold

Quinton stared at the board, his heart hammering against his ribs. Five gold coins was five years of tuition. It was a new house for his parents. And people were fighting over a single plate.

Servants for the young lords scrambled in the crowd, bidding the prices up. A burger that started at five gold was sold for ten before the grease even hit the wrapper.