Lyra blinked.
For a moment, the world stood still — the clang of steel in the distance, the chatter of trainees, even the whispering wind.
She stared at Cael like he'd just told her he could make the dead dance.
"You…" She tilted her head slightly, amber eyes narrowing. "You can what?"
Cael's smirk didn't falter. "I said, I can fix you."
There was silence. Then, for a long, drawn-out heartbeat—
Lyra burst out laughing.
It wasn't a polite chuckle or a restrained giggle.
It was genuine, unrestrained laughter that bent her over slightly, one hand pressed to her stomach.
The trainees turned, startled, only to see their instructor losing her composure in front of the infamous "lazy young master."
"Oh, Saints above," she gasped between laughs.
"That's… that's the funniest thing I've heard all week. Kid, do you even know what you're saying?"
Cael just stood there, watching her quietly. He'd seen that reaction coming from a mile away.
'Yeah, I should've expected that,' he thought dryly.
'If someone told me they could rebuild a shattered mana core, I'd laugh too.'
When Lyra finally caught her breath, she straightened and shook her head, a wry smile still tugging at her lips.
"Listen, Young Master, I don't know if this is some prank, or if you're trying to play hero, but…" She gestured vaguely at herself.
"I'm beyond fixing. Every healer, every researcher, every mage in the kingdom knows that once your core shatters, you're done. That's it."
Her tone softened slightly, almost pitying. "So, if you're trying to scam someone, pick an easier target."
Cael exhaled slowly through his nose, still calm. "Scam you, huh?"
She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "What else am I supposed to think?"
He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Alright then. How about a bet?"
That got her attention. Her expression shifted, curiosity flickering beneath the layers of skepticism.
"A bet?"
"Yeah." Cael's lips curled into a confident half-smile.
"I know about your situation — your family, your siblings, why you're still working here despite… everything."
Her brows furrowed, suspicion returning. "How do you—"
"I have my ways." He raised a hand casually. "Here's the deal. If I can't cure you, I'll give you this."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather pouch, letting it drop into his palm with a soft clink. The weight of coins inside made it unmistakable.
Lyra's sharp eyes instantly locked onto it. "What's that?"
"Gold," Cael said simply, tossing the pouch lightly before catching it again. "A hundred coins. Enough for you and your siblings to live comfortably for the rest of your lives."
For a moment, Lyra thought she'd misheard him.
"…A hundred gold?" she repeated, voice flat.
"Yup."
She blinked once, twice. "You're joking."
"Nope."
Her heart skipped. That kind of money was astronomical — more than she'd ever seen in her life. She could leave this place, buy a home, get her siblings educated.
But still… this was absurd.
"So," Cael continued, sliding the pouch back into his coat, "if I can't cure you, it's yours. No strings attached."
Lyra's mind spun. The bet was heavily in her favor.
There was no possible way he could fix her, and even if he didn't pay up, she'd lose nothing.
"…And if you can?" she asked finally, voice cautious.
Cael's smile deepened. "If I can cure you…" He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. "I want you."
Lyra froze.
"You—what?"
"I want you," Cael repeated calmly.
There was silence again — heavy, awkward, dangerous.
The trainees in the distance shouted, swords clashed, but in this little corner of the field, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
Lyra's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
She tried to laugh it off, to make sense of what she'd heard, but her mind tripped over itself.
'He… he can't be serious. Right?'
But Cael's expression didn't waver.
After a long pause, she exhaled sharply through her nose.
"…Fine. Whatever. You're on, Young Master. If it means I get a hundred gold out of this nonsense, I'll play along."
Cael's smirk returned. "Good. Then we have a deal. Meet me here at midnight."
"Midnight?"
"When no one's around," he said, turning to leave. "It'll be easier that way."
Lyra raised a brow. "You're not planning something weird, are you?"
He paused mid-step and looked back, amused. "Relax. I wouldn't dream of it."
Lyra muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "You'd better not," and watched him disappear down the path toward the mansion.
✧✧✧
The moon was high by the time Lyra returned to the training grounds.
The night air was cool, the field quiet except for the soft chirp of insects in the grass. She'd almost convinced herself not to come — almost.
But the thought of a hundred gold coins had been too tempting to ignore.
'He's probably already asleep,' she thought, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders.
But as she stepped through the gates, she spotted him easily.
Cael was sitting on the fence by the weapon shed, moonlight glinting off his white shirt. He looked completely relaxed, as if he'd been expecting her all along.
"Took you long enough," he said, hopping down. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."
Lyra crossed her arms, trying not to let him see her hesitation. "Couldn't miss the chance to earn a hundred gold, could I?"
He grinned. "Fair enough. Come on."
He gestured toward the small armory room near the edge of the field — the one used for storing spare weapons and armor.
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not having any funny ideas, right? You know I can still knock you out cold even without mana."
Cael chuckled softly. "As I said before, wouldn't dream of it."
She followed him inside.
The room was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging on the wall, its light flickering against rows of weapon racks.
The air smelled faintly of oil and steel.
Cael turned and pointed to the center of the room. "Sit down. Cross-legged, back toward me."
Lyra hesitated. "…What exactly are you planning to do?"
"You'll see," he said simply. "Just don't move, no matter what."
'This better not be some creepy noble ritual,' she thought grimly but obeyed anyway, lowering herself to the floor.
Cael knelt behind her, placing his palms gently against her back.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint warmth spread from his hands.
It started like a soft pulse, then grew stronger, seeping deeper beneath her skin.
Lyra's breath hitched. It wasn't painful at first — just strange, like liquid sunlight threading its way through her veins.
Then came the burn.
Her back arched involuntarily. "T-this… what—"
"Don't move," Cael said sharply, voice calm but firm.
"No matter how much it hurts. You move, I can't help you."
Lyra gritted her teeth and forced herself still. Sweat rolled down her temple.
She could feel it now — the mana, flowing where it shouldn't be able to.
It surged through the dead channels inside her, the ones she hadn't felt in years.
It was agony.
Her muscles trembled, fingers clawing at the floor. It felt like fire racing through a maze of shattered glass, every pulse threatening to tear her apart.
Cael, for his part, stayed utterly focused. His brows furrowed, beads of sweat forming along his jaw.
'Careful… just a bit more,' he thought, guiding the mana carefully through her body.
'If I lose focus for even a second… I'll cripple myself, and she'll—'
He didn't let himself finish the thought.
Slowly, meticulously, he gathered the flowing mana into her center — shaping it, molding it — until a faint glow pulsed beneath her skin.
The beginnings of a new core.
Hours passed in silence, broken only by Lyra's ragged breathing.
And then, suddenly —
The pressure broke.
Lyra gasped sharply, eyes snapping open as something inside her clicked. A rush of mana, pure and vibrant, flooded through her like a long-forgotten melody.
She could feel it again — her strength, her life, her very soul stirring awake.
When Cael finally withdrew his hands, he was drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
For a moment, both of them simply sat there, catching their breath.
Then Cael managed a weak chuckle. "It's… done."
Lyra blinked, dazed. "What… do you mean, done?"
"Try it," he said between breaths. "Sense it. You'll see."
Hesitantly, she closed her eyes.
And there it was.
A soft, glowing presence at her core — faint but real. Mana flowed through her body again, smooth and natural.
Her eyes snapped open, disbelief flooding her features.
"This… this can't be…"
Cael smiled faintly. "Believe it."
"How—" She turned to him, voice trembling. "How did you—"
He waved a hand lazily. "I built you a new core and pathways. Simple as that."
"Simple—?!" Lyra stared at him as if he'd gone mad.
"If it were that easy, the entire world would've done it already!"
Cael raised his hands defensively.
"Alright, alright. It's not easy. It took… a lot of concentration, control, and understanding of how mana flows through the body. One wrong move, and I'd be crippled too."
'Or worse,' he added silently.
Lyra just stared at him, still trying to process what had happened.
Her voice softened, almost fragile. "Why?"
Cael blinked. "Why what?"
"Why risk that much for me?" Her amber eyes shimmered faintly in the lantern light. "We don't even know each other."
He sighed, leaning back slightly. "Didn't I already tell you?"
She frowned. "Tell me what?"
He met her gaze evenly. "I want you."
For a second, everything stopped.
Then the words finally sank in.
Lyra's face turned crimson. "W-wait, what—?!"
She scooted back instinctively, putting distance between them, her mind spinning.
"You—you can't just— I thought that was a joke!"
Cael blinked innocently. "A bet's a bet, isn't it?"
Her heart was hammering in her chest. "Th-that's not—aren't we moving a bit too fast? We don't even know each other that well!"
Cael tilted his head, feigning confusion. "We'll get to know each other by spending time together… you know, doing it."
Lyra's eyes went wide. "Doing—what?!"
He grinned. "Training and working together, obviously. What were you thinking?"
Realization dawned on her face, followed immediately by a deep flush of embarrassment. "Y-you—! I thought—!"
Cael laughed softly. "Relax, Instructor. I was just teasing."
Lyra groaned, covering her face with both hands. "You're impossible."
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, neatly bound booklet, holding it out toward her.
"Here. This is the cultivation method I used to rebuild your core. It's a Grade 3 mana cultivation method for swordsmanship. Study it later."
She looked at it warily. "A cultivation method? After what happened last time, you expect me to—"
"Come on," he interrupted lightly. "I just fixed your core. You think I'd break it right after?"
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached out and took it.
"…A Grade 3 method, you said?"
He nodded.
Her brows furrowed. "How did you even get your hands on something like that?"
Cael smiled faintly. "That's a secret. But keep it between us, alright?"
Lyra sighed, clutching the booklet to her chest. "Fine. I won't tell anyone."
"Good."
Cael nodded approvingly, then added, "By the way—since I rebuilt your mana core, you're technically a one-star knight now. Not two."
Her eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"
He shrugged casually. "Your old core was shattered beyond repair. I had to create a new one from scratch, which means you'll need to start over. Think of it as… a fresh beginning."
Lyra blinked, torn between irritation and disbelief. "You mean after everything I've been through, I'm back at square one?"
Cael smirked. "Hey, square one is still better than being stuck at zero."
That earned him a glare, but she couldn't entirely hide the faint twitch at the corner of her lips.
"Now," he said, rummaging in his coat again, "one more thing."
He pulled out a notebook and tossed it to her.
Lyra caught it, glancing down at the faded title scrawled across the cover:
Basic Swordsmanship Techniques.
She blinked. "…Is this a joke?"
"Nope."
Lyra stared at him incredulously. "This isn't even a technique! It literally says 'basic.' I already know this much."
Cael chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
"That's where you're wrong. You don't understand the value of basics—it seems you've forgotten what truly matters."
His tone wasn't mocking now—it was steady, almost sharp, with an undercurrent of conviction that made Lyra pause.
Before she could respond, Cael walked over to the weapon rack, grabbed two wooden swords, and tossed one to her.
She caught it on instinct. "What are you—?"
He turned toward the door, his back straight, steps unhurried. "Let me show you," he said, voice calm but laced with quiet confidence.
Then he looked over his shoulder, and in the flickering lantern light, his eyes gleamed cold and focused.
"The true importance of basics."