Chapter 373: Everyone wants a gift
Lian smiled as he spoke.
"Prince Vincent is in good health, and his luck is excellent as well."
His gaze shifted toward Vincent.
"Judging by his condition now, I don’t think he’ll be dealing with morning sickness all the way until the baby is born."
"That’s wonderful."
Rory beamed at Vincent, genuinely relieved.
Vincent returned her smile.
Hidden deep within his eyes was a quiet anticipation that no one else could see.
The evening after tomorrow would be his turn to spend time with Rory.
With how much better he was feeling now, there would be no problem at all.
The thought inevitably drifted through his mind.
What kind of pajamas had Rory prepared for him?
The very idea was enough to make a beast look forward to the future.
After breakfast, Xarion found an opportunity to pull Rory aside when no one else was paying attention.
"Female Master."
The moment Rory saw his pitiful, aggrieved expression, she immediately knew this was about the gift.
Smiling, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.
"I already prepared your outfit."
Her eyes curved with amusement.
"Do you want it now, or would you rather wait until it’s your turn to spend time with me?"
Xarion wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a loose embrace.
His voice was low and slightly muffled.
"I’ll wait."
Then he added without hesitation,
"When it’s my turn, I want you to put it on me yourself."
Of course, that wasn’t actually why he had been upset.
Xarion had always been straightforward.
"Female Master." His gaze locked onto hers. "Next time, I want to be the first person to receive a gift."
Rory blinked. Then she laughed.
So that was what had been bothering him.
She knew perfectly well that she never favored one mate over another.
Whenever she prepared gifts, she always made sure everyone received something.
The reason Xarion had been sulking all morning wasn’t because Nix had received a present. It was because Nix had received it first.
Unlike others who might silently brood over such feelings, Xarion preferred to state his desires openly.
If he wanted something, he simply said so.
"So that’s what you’re upset about."
Rory reached up and pinched his handsome cheek.
Xarion obediently bent lower, allowing her to do as she pleased.
"Well?" His eyes followed her closely. "Do you agree?"
"I do." Rory nodded. "I’ll remember."
Her smile softened. "Next time, you’ll be the first one to receive a gift."
Immediately, Xarion’s mood brightened. A smile spread across his face.
Taking her hand, he gently pressed a kiss against her fingertips.
"Rory?"
A familiar voice suddenly called out from nearby.
The moment he heard Vangar, Xarion reluctantly released Rory’s hand.
Then he raised his voice toward the source.
"Over here."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Vangar appeared around the corner.
His pace was unusually hurried.
Seeing the urgency on his face, Rory immediately assumed something had happened.
Concern flashed through her eyes.
"Vangar?" She stepped forward. "What’s wrong? You look anxious. Did something happen?"
Beside her, Xarion remained silent.
He had a pretty good idea what was going on.
In his opinion, Vangar had probably come for exactly the same reason everyone else had.
The gift.
Vangar stopped in front of Rory. A faint flush colored his face. Looking unexpectedly embarrassed, he slowly raised one arm.
"Rory." His expression became increasingly awkward. "Look."
Rory followed his gesture.
The sleeve of his shirt had somehow caught on something and torn open. The rip was large enough to be impossible to ignore.
Vangar looked genuinely troubled.
"My clothes are damaged." His brows furrowed. "I left in a hurry this time. I didn’t pack any spare outfits."
He sighed. "What am I supposed to do now?"
Rory stared at him, suspicious.
Of course. They had all come looking for gifts. This was definitely Nix’s fault.
Suppressing a laugh, she looked again at the tear in Vangar’s sleeve.
Unfortunately, there was one small problem––she hadn’t actually prepared anything for him yet.
And the gifts she had bought were pajamas, not everyday clothes.
After a moment of thought, Rory looked up at him seriously.
"I have a sewing kit."
Vangar blinked.
Rory smiled.
"Vangar, why don’t I mend it for you? I don’t have a replacement outfit ready right now."
Her voice was gentle. "But I can repair this one."
Vangar looked completely stunned. The possibility had never even crossed his mind.
The mighty Marshal Vangar, who could stare down entire armies without flinching, suddenly found himself unable to process the image of Rory personally sewing his clothes.
His mind went blank.
What had he just heard? Mend his clothes?
Throughout the entire Interstellar Empire, females were treasured beyond measure.
From the moment they were born, they were cherished and protected by their families. Once they came of age, powerful beastkin mates took care of every aspect of their daily lives.
Females were only expected to be happy. To be cherished. To live beautifully.
Forget sewing and mending clothing. Most males wouldn’t even allow a female to lift anything remotely heavy.
Even young females from less fortunate households who had not yet been matched with mates received monthly stipends from the Empire.
Their comfort and well-being were guaranteed.
No female would ever be forced to live so poorly that she had to repair damaged clothing and continue wearing it.
So how could Rory know how to do something like this? Had she once lived such a difficult life?
Vangar frowned. He had never investigated Rory’s past. When he chose her, he had already decided that it didn’t matter whether her past was good or bad.
What he cared about was her character. He had never once considered her living conditions.
In Vangar’s understanding, all Imperial females lived comfortably.
Only males who struggled through lives worse than wild beasts would learn skills like mending clothes.
Before he could fully process his shock, Rory had already grabbed his wrist.
"Come on." She smiled naturally. "Let’s go to your room. I’ll fix it for you."
The warmth of her hand against his skin made him instinctively lower his gaze.
His eyes settled on her slender figure and the hand holding his wrist.
Vangar pressed his lips together.
Perhaps... Perhaps he really should learn more about the Female Master’s past.
Nearby, Xarion watched Rory lead Vangar away.
His handsome features tightened into a deep frown.
His Female Master had apparently suffered far more than he realized. And he hadn’t known a thing about it.
Inside Vangar’s room, Rory opened her storage ring and removed a small, exquisitely crafted sewing kit.
Then she looked up at him.
"Vangar... Take off the shirt. I’ll repair it."
Without hesitation, Vangar removed the garment.
The movement revealed the powerful lines of his upper body before he handed the damaged shirt to her.
Rory accepted it and sat down on the sofa.
Moments later, she threaded a needle with practiced ease and began stitching.
Her expression was calm and focused. Every movement was familiar, as though she had done this countless times before.
Standing nearby, Vangar watched silently. His emotions grew increasingly complicated.
Rory’s fingers were slender and nimble. Each stitch was neat, almost impossibly even.
To disguise the repair and make the finished result more attractive, she switched to silver-gray thread.
Then, rather than merely closing the tear, she began embroidering a simple design along the cuff.
The longer Vangar watched, the heavier his heart became.
Slowly, he pressed a hand against his chest.
There was happiness there. Warmth unlike anything he had ever experienced.
But more than either of those emotions... There was heartache.
His throat tightened. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Rory..." His voice was unusually gentle. "How did you learn to do this?"
The way she handled the needle suggested years of practice. Years of experience.
Without looking up, Rory continued sewing.
"My grandmother taught me." Her answer came casually. "When I was little, our family didn’t have much money. If clothes got torn, we couldn’t always afford replacements. So we fixed them ourselves."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"My grandmother was always busy. She taught me how to do it. And eventually I learned."
Back then, she had dreamed of growing up quickly. Of earning enough money to buy her grandmother as many beautiful new clothes as she wanted.
But by the time she finally had the ability to do that... Her grandmother was gone.
A trace of nostalgia softened her voice. And beneath it lingered unmistakable sadness.
Vangar’s heart clenched painfully.
His Female Master... As a child, she had apparently lived so poorly that she couldn’t even afford new clothes.
He knew she was a human female, yet he had never asked where she came from.
Perhaps because he was afraid to ask.
Every human female who appeared within the Empire seemed to arrive from nowhere.
A grandmother...
Then where were her parents? How could they have allowed her to live such a difficult life?
Lost in thought, Vangar didn’t notice the details of her work.
Meanwhile, Rory carefully embroidered a small cedar branch onto the repaired cuff.
Cedars endured brutal winters. They stood proudly atop snow-covered peaks.
To her, nothing suited Vangar better.
At the tip of the branch, she added one final detail––a tiny star stitched in golden thread.
Finally, she snipped the last loose strand.
"Done." Smiling, she handed the shirt back to him. "See?"
She tilted her head.
"You can hardly tell it was repaired now."
Vangar accepted the garment. His thumb brushed gently across the embroidered cedar branch. Then over the tiny golden star beside it.
The raised texture of the stitching lingered beneath his fingertips. For some reason, it still seemed to carry traces of her warmth.
His gaze remained fixed on the design.
The cedar branch... And beside it, that small golden star.
His lips trembled slightly.
In that moment, Vangar felt as though the cedar was himself.
And the star beside it... Was his Female Master.
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