A small tavern in Conenium Square. Among a few residents enjoying quiet drinks, one man sat alone. On the table before him were a single plate of basic snacks and a glass filled with amber liquid.
"Why the hell am I even drinking this disgusting stuff?"
Luke muttered under his breath, glaring at the glass. It wasn’t as though anyone had forced him to order it, yet here he was, complaining.
Leaving the branch, Luke had found himself sitting at the tavern instead of returning home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, fueled by a simmering irritation.
The thought of Theo—who, after claiming he’d take responsibility, had simply left without a word over something as trivial as discomfort—only stoked his growing frustration. And to think Theo had even asked for his help with the investigation. It was infuriatingly rude.
Truth be told, in the brief time they’d spent investigating together, Luke had begun to feel that Theo was slightly more tolerable than before. Back then, as rivals, their relationship had been marked by inevitable clashes, both having roles to fulfill as adversaries. But now, having left the military behind, Luke no longer needed to concern himself with Theo.
He figured Theo might feel the same way. After all, Luke was no longer a candidate for commander nor even part of the Empire’s army. There was little reason for Theo to see him as a threat anymore.
"Guess he got pissed off because someone he doesn’t like asked him to help out," Luke grumbled, slamming his hand on the table. He decided against going home just yet, not wanting to alarm Fayl with his foul mood. Instead, he wandered to the square, eventually stumbling across the tavern.
He wasn’t much of a drinker—he found alcohol bitter and his tolerance low. But memories of hearing fellow soldiers rave about the stress-relieving magic of booze during their leaves came to mind. So, in a fit of frustration, he ordered a drink. Unsurprisingly, it tasted awful. Still, after a few sips, he felt marginally better.
"Luke? Is that you?"
Luke had been steadily sipping his drink when someone approached his table. He glanced up, and his face immediately soured upon recognizing the man.
"Woods?"
It was none other than Woods, the drunken troublemaker and son of the village chief, who had caused a scene outside Luke’s house not long ago. Theo had reportedly thrown him so hard that he’d injured his back—but judging by his presence here, he seemed to have recovered quickly.
"What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you came to drink?"
Woods beamed at Luke, shamelessly plopping himself down across from him.
"Why else would someone come to a tavern? To drink, obviously!"
"You never came with me when I asked you to drink before," Woods pointed out cheerfully.
"Because I didn’t want to. Now, would you kindly leave? I didn’t invite you to sit here."
Luke’s frosty tone failed to faze Woods, who merely chuckled and commented on how grumpy he was before stubbornly remaining in his seat.
"Come on, let’s drink together! We’re from the same village—let’s chat a little. Hey, two more drinks here!"
Woods glanced at Luke’s half-empty glass and boldly ordered another round for both of them.
Luke thought about snapping, asking if Woods was deaf and offering to fix that, but he ultimately gave up. Trying to argue with this idiot would be as effective as talking to a wall. He consoled himself with the thought that a big, dumb rock had simply taken a seat across from him.
"Nothing beats a drink when you’ve got a lot on your mind," Woods said, grinning.
Luke could only imagine how much this comment would upset the village chief if he heard it.
"Luke, are you dealing with something rough? You don’t look so great."
"No. And even if I were, I wouldn’t tell you."
At this point, Luke figured he’d have a better time confiding in an actual rock. Woods, oblivious to his disdain, pushed another drink toward him with a smile. It was murkier in color and even more bitter than the one Luke had initially ordered, but at this point, he didn’t care.
Time dragged on, with Woods happily chatting away while Luke offered nothing more than the occasional grunt or sharp retort. His attention drifted to the darkening scenery outside the tavern, his thoughts circling back to Theo. Was he settling into the dormitory by now?
Eventually, Luke’s glass was nearly empty. Rubbing his eyes, he felt a strange dizziness creeping over him. Two drinks weren’t enough to get him drunk, but something about the second one hit harder than expected.
"Hey, Woods," Luke called out.
"Huh?" Woods looked up from his rambling.
Luke rubbed his face with both hands, then abruptly tilted his head back, glaring daggers at Woods as though he was ready to kill him.
"You purposely ordered something stronger, didn’t you?"
"Ah, was it too strong for you?"
Luke let out a deep sigh. His vision spun, his head felt dizzy, and his face grew hot. He regretted letting that idiot order for him. But he’d been too distracted, thinking about Theo, to pay attention.
"Luke? Are you drunk? Want me to help you home?"
"Get lost."
Dragging his chair back with a screech, Luke stood up. He resolved to visit the village chief tomorrow to report his son’s outrageous behavior in excruciating detail. But as he took a step, his vision swam, and he staggered.
"See? I told you, you can’t handle it on your own."
Woods quickly rose and wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulders, supposedly to support him. Luke gritted his teeth in frustration, biting his lips so hard they turned crimson against his pale skin.
Woods, watching him intently, took in the sight—Luke’s lips stained a deep red, his flushed skin from the alcohol, and his slightly unfocused eyes.
"Man, what now? You can barely walk. Looks like getting you home is going to be tough..."
Feigning exasperation, Woods exaggerated his gestures and began leading Luke out of the tavern. His head darted around as though searching for a place for Luke to rest.
"Let go... you bastard..."
Luke struggled to break free, but with Woods being bigger and Luke too drunk to muster much strength, it was a losing battle. He considered using magic to shove Woods off when a shadow loomed over them.
"Huh?"
Woods barely had time to voice his confusion before the unpleasant arm around Luke’s shoulders was forcibly removed. There was a grunt, followed by the sound of a body being hurled far away.
For a moment, Luke wondered if he’d somehow cast magic without realizing it, but before he could process what had happened, his unsteady body lurched forward. Just as he was about to fall, strong hands wrapped around his waist, steadying him.
The sensation was entirely different from when Woods had touched him. It wasn’t repulsive or infuriating.
This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēwebnovel.com.
"Drinking? After being injured so recently?"
A familiar voice pierced through the haze. The sound, calm yet sharp, was like the glow of the moon cutting through the surrounding darkness. Slowly, Luke lifted his head.
"Luke, you’re still a patient. Are you even aware of that?"
There stood Theo, his expression tightly drawn. Luke blinked slowly, taking in the sight. Theo’s slightly labored breathing hinted that he had run to get here. His neatly styled hair was disheveled, and two buttons of his uniform were undone—a rare and uncharacteristic sight.
"You... your hair’s down," Luke mumbled, his words slurred. He had never seen Theo looking so untidy in his formal attire.
"Is that really important right now? And this isn’t intentional—it just happened," Theo replied, exasperated.
"No, it’s not okay... Not okay. A commander shouldn’t look like that. You’re supposed to set an example for your troops."
Luke’s speech was thoroughly slurred, his words tumbling over each other as he kept repeating the same thought.
"God, whose fault do you think this is..."
Theo’s voice trailed off as his lips stiffened mid-sentence. Luke reached out, fumbling with the undone buttons of Theo’s uniform. Before Theo could react, Luke carefully fastened them, his drunken body still leaning heavily against Theo’s firm grasp.
"There. All done," Luke said with a satisfied grin as he admired his handiwork.
"...How much did you drink?" Theo asked, his tone strained.
"Huh? Don’t know. Just drank whatever that bastard gave me. Speaking of which, where is he? I need to half-kill him..."
Theo’s sharp eyebrows twitched, his gaze darkening as it flicked toward where Woods lay sprawled in the distance. At the same time, Luke squirmed in Theo’s hold, clearly uncomfortable with being restrained.
"Stay still, or you’ll fall."
"No. Let go. Your arms are too thick," Luke grumbled, weakly punching Theo’s arm. His blows were so soft they only tickled. Watching Luke squirm and complain like a child, Theo let out a faint smile, a mix of relief and amusement.
"Honestly, I can’t take my eyes off you. Come on, let’s get you home."
"...Hey, why are you lying?"
Luke suddenly planted his feet firmly on the ground, surprising Theo with an unexpected surge of strength. His expression, despite being drunkenly pouty, was one of petulant defiance.
"Lying? What lie are you accusing me of now?" Theo asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
"You said... you said you couldn’t take your eyes off me. But you looked away! You looked away from me!"
Luke’s drunken indignation was palpable as he grabbed fistfuls of Theo’s disheveled hair and yelled, his voice echoing through the night.