CHAPTER 178: INFECTIOUS

Nellie’s enthusiasm was infectious, her gray eyes gleaming behind her glasses, and Lor couldn’t help but grin wider, her joy a small victory that warmed his chest.

"You’re gonna crush it," he said, his tone light but sincere. "I can already see you standing on that podium, Nellie."

She clasped her notes tighter, her blush deepening as she ducked her head, fingers playing with the end of her braid.

"You worked so hard for me... is there anything I can give you? To repay you?"

For a heartbeat, his instinct stirred, whispering possibilities.

Her trust, her shy gratitude—it was ripe for the taking, a thread he could pull to draw her closer, to name another price in the Light’s name.

The memory of her body, soft and yielding in the tub, flashed through his mind, tempting him to push further.

But he shook his head, his smile softening, genuine in a way that surprised even him.

"No need, Nellie. Truly. Seeing you grow, watching you go from struggling at the bottom of Class D to standing tall—that’s enough for me. That’s all the reward I want."

Her blush deepened, spreading to her ears as she ducked her head further, her fingers twisting the braid nervously.

"You’re... too kind, Lor," she murmured, her voice barely audible, but her smile was radiant, a quiet glow that made the room feel warmer, cleaner.

They shared a look, a moment of connection that felt untainted.

For now, it was just Nellie, her trust, her smile, and the simple satisfaction of guiding her.

When it was time to leave, Nellie hurried to her pantry, returning with a small packet wrapped in parchment and tied with a golden ribbon.

She pressed it into his hands, her fingers brushing his, her cheeks pink with shy pride.

"These are from my house," she said, her voice soft but earnest. "Cookies. Please take them, Lor. You’ve... done more for me than I can ever repay."

He chuckled, tucking the bundle under his arm, the weight light but meaningful.

"Then I’ll eat them and think of this day," he said, his tone warm, teasing. "Thank you, Nellie."

Her gray eyes lingered on him as he stepped out of her mansion, the afternoon sun spilling across his back, casting long shadows on the stone steps.

The cookies were a small, sweet weight in his grasp, but her smile lingered heavier, a warmth that stayed with him as he walked away, humming under his breath.

Outwardly, he was just Lor—carefree, pleased with a day well spent.

But inside, a darker smile coiled, sharp and knowing.

Another thread woven into his web, another girl tied close, so close.

Yet even with all of that, something in him hesitated.

There was a connection to Nellie—not just physical, not just strategy.

Something quieter. Warm.

But despite all this, he felt a connection to nellie.

Something more than just physical connection.

Beneath it all, the ghost of that dream lingered—cold lips, pink glow, the faint taste of roses and iron.

The spirit’s touch, its insatiable hunger, was no mere nightmare.

It was tied to Kiara, for sure.

He’d find her, corner her, demand answers.

Because whatever this was, it wasn’t just pleasure—it was power, and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.

__________

Lor ambled down a side street, the warm cobblestones kissing his soles, the air thick with the scent of caramelized nuts and the briny tang of river salt.

Nellie’s ribboned packet nestled under his arm, light as a whispered promise, its golden tie glinting in the fading sunlight.

He wasn’t rushing—haste bred mistakes, and Lor was nothing if not careful.

The city carried him along, its pulse alive in the hawkers’ rhythmic slaps on tabletops, the tick-tick of a cart-wheel catching a loose stone, and the bright peal of a child’s laughter as a scruffy dog darted past with a stolen scarf trailing from its jaws.

The street spilled into a low plaza, a shallow bowl carved between buildings.

At its heart, an ancient fountain burbled, its four stone lion heads spouting charmed water in shimmering sheets, coins glinting like minnows in the basin below.

A bench beneath a sprawling plane tree offered a pocket of half-shade, half-privacy, and Lor claimed it, easing onto the worn wood with a sigh.

He untied Nellie’s ribbon, the golden thread slipping through his fingers, and unfolded the parchment.

The scent hit him first—butter, vanilla, a sharp note of almond that made his mouth water before he even saw the cookies.

Burnished to a perfect gold, their edges dusted with sugar, each one stamped with a delicate crest he didn’t recognize.

Nellie never did things halfway.

He bit into the first cookie, the shortbread crumbling with a tender sigh, butter melting on his tongue, a hidden burst of candied orange catching him by surprise.

He closed his eyes, letting the sweetness sink through him like a small, private blessing.

The second cookie brought chopped pistachios and a faint whisper of cardamom, waking his senses with a warm, spicy kick.

The third was salted caramel—proper sea salt, flakes that cracked under his teeth, amplifying the richness.

By the fourth, he was licking sugar granules from his thumb, grinning at nothing but the simple joy of it, the city’s hum a perfect backdrop.

Silverward Crest slipped into his mind unbidden, Kiara’s house.

It was like any other noble house that tightened his bones—the towering gates, the liveried servants with eyes that weighed your posture for rank, the marble floors that turned footsteps into judgments.

Nobles spoke in sentences that demanded receipts, their every word a transaction.

Lor chewed, the cookie dissolving, but the thought clung.

He’d face Kiara tomorrow, in the academy, that is better than visiting at her sophisticated place.

Lor broke another cookie, sharing a quarter with a bold pigeon that had inched closer, its head bobbing between suspicion and hope.

The bird snatched the crumb and fled, and Lor popped the rest into his mouth, letting crumbs fall where they would.

A kid with a candied fruit stick wandered by, his sticky grin splitting his face; an old man dozed on the opposite bench, hat tipped over his eyes.