In a mansion located in the central area of City A-1, known as the wealthiest and most prosperous city in the association, a heated argument was taking place in a luxuriously decorated room.
The room was spacious and elegant, with white marble floors and large windows, which at that moment were covered by curtains, preventing the sunlight from entering, casting a dark atmosphere in the room.
In the center, a Persian rug covered part of the floor, and on it, there was a set of black leather sofas and a low table with old books. The walls displayed paintings of landscapes and family portraits — the most striking being one of an imposing man dressed in a hero's uniform, hanging above the unlit fireplace.
Seated in one of the armchairs was an aging man with graying hair. Sitting on the sofa in front of him was a woman in the prime of her youth, likely around 30 years old.
"Lin Wei! How could you let Lin Yan go to that hero academy?!" The woman said in an angry voice, her beautiful features distorted by rage.
"Calm down, Penélope. Lin Yan must follow his path. Becoming a hero was his childhood dream, and as his grandfather, I will support him in any decision he makes," the middle-aged man, Lin Wei, said in a calm voice, apparently accustomed to the outbursts of the beautiful woman named Penélope.
"How can you tell me to calm down?! How can you let my grandson go to such a dangerous place?!" Penélope's voice rose an octave, seemingly becoming more irritated by Lin Wei's indifferent response.
"Become a hero?! My God! I want to protect him, not kill him!!" Her tone rose, mixed with a hint of desperation.
Penélope turned away, not wanting to face Lin Wei, as if doing so would prevent him from seeing the tears streaming down her face.
"Do you remember what happened to Fei?!" she said in a low voice, now weaker and tearful. "He died! My son died! Do you want Yan to follow the same path?"
Lin Wei fell silent at his wife's accusations, his serene expression seemingly imperturbable, hiding his inner turmoil.
"I remember everything, Penélope..." he said in a sorrowful, but firm voice. "I remember the closed coffin. I remember you screaming at the funeral. Every day."
Penélope clenched her fists, her shoulders trembling.
"Then why are you doing the same thing to Yan?!"
"Because he is not Fei."
Those words made Penélope turn back around, with anger and pain in her eyes.
"Of course he isn't! But he's our grandson! Our last piece of him! Do you want to lose that too?!"
Lin Wei looked into her eyes. His gaze was gentle, but resolute.
"If I could, I would lock him up here forever. But he's not a scared child… He's strong. Like his father. And unlike us, he still has hope."
Penélope bit her lower lip, trying to hold back tears. She looked at the portraits on the wall, especially the one of Fei, the hero who left too soon.
"You always make all the decisions on your own…" she murmured, her voice wounded. "It's always been like this. You think being strong means not listening to me? You think supporting Yan means ignoring me?"
Wei finally showed the pain on his face. A brief tremor passed through his hands before he took hers.
"It's not that. I just… I don't want him to live a life full of regrets. Like I did."
Penélope closed her eyes. For a moment, everything was silent except for the sound of her trembling breath. Then, she pulled her hands away.
"Then don't expect me to smile when he walks out that door… because if he doesn't come back, Lin Wei, I swear on everything sacred… I will never forgive you."
She left the room, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor as the doors slammed shut. Lin Wei stood there, alone, staring at the portrait of his son above the fireplace. His tear-filled eyes reflected the same question he had no courage to ask aloud.
"Would you have let your son go?"
---
The nurse's office was silent, only the beating of two hearts could be heard like drums. Lucas was on top of Lisa, the girl looked euphoric as she lifted her skirt, revealing that she was not wearing panties, leaving her naked pussy on full display. Which happened to be already wet and glistening with excitement.
The tension in the room was intense; it felt like Lucas's blood was shifting, rushing to the lower part of his body. The tent formed in Lucas's pants was huge, it didn't look like the thing stored there would fit in Lisa's tiny pussy.
The tension shattered abruptly with the entrance of a woman—Sophie.
It reminded Lucas that he was in the infirmary, not in his bedroom, where the two of them would've had privacy.
"Lucas?" Sophie's voice was firm, but tinged with surprise. Her eyes widened briefly at the scene before her: Lucas on top of Lisa, their faces flushed and no space between them. A cutting silence filled the room.
Lisa froze like a statue, the blush on her face trailing down her neck and disappearing beneath her shirt. Lucas blinked, as if waking from a trance, his racing heart now pounding for a completely different reason: sheer embarrassment.
"T-This isn't what it looks like!" he tried to explain, slowly backing away from Lisa, almost as if reluctant to stop.
"Of course not." Sophie crossed her arms, raising a brow. Her expression balanced between skepticism and barely contained irritation. "Because clearly, two sweaty, breathless people almost having sex in a locked infirmary must be part of some new medical recovery protocol, right?"
Lisa clenched her fists at her sides, her face still as red as a tomato. "It's his fault! He… he…" the words tangled in her mouth. "He provoked me!"
Lucas laughed nervously. "Technically, you were the one who star—"
"Shut up, you idiot!" she yelled, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble.
Sophie sighed, running a hand through her long black hair, her patience draining. "If you two want to play hormone-fueled couple, do it somewhere else. This place is for the injured—not for... intimate encounters."
She turned to leave but glanced back at Lucas, her eyes narrowing. "We'll talk later. Alone."
The door shut with a click, leaving a heavy silence between them.
Lucas scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. "Well… that was... something."
Lisa turned her face away, still red, and muttered something inaudible—but the corners of her lips trembled.
The door had closed, but the damage was done.
Lisa remained turned to the side, her eyes fixed on some random spot on the wall, her body still trembling slightly—not from desire anymore, but from frustration. A hot wave boiled inside her, not from shame, but from fury.
Sophie... damn Sophie.
Her thoughts bubbled like a kettle about to overflow. She had shown up at the worst possible moment. With that air of superiority, like she understood everything, like she knew what was best for Lucas. Like she had the right to interrupt what was clearly about to happen.
Lisa bit her lower lip, her face burning as she remembered how Lucas looked at her just seconds before the damn woman came in. He wanted it… he really wanted it… And now, it had slipped through her fingers. A rare moment. A moment that might not come again anytime soon.
Who does she think she is? A saint? A guardian angel? Just because she's pretty, tall, and has that damn mature, confident vibe?
Lisa's mind twisted Sophie's image, exaggerating every detail that irritated her: the way she walked like she was on a runway; that cold, precise voice that sliced through the air; and, of course, the way she looked at Lucas—like he was something precious... something hers.
He's mine. Not hers. MINE.
Lisa gripped the infirmary sheet so tightly her knuckles turned white. A slight tremor ran through her shoulders—not from sadness, but from pure possessiveness.
She might've walked in today. But next time, I'll lock the door... and nothing, no one, will stop me.
Lucas, finding her reaction adorable, smiled and leaned close to whisper in her ear:
"Lisa... Our conversation isn't over. I'll be waiting for you in my room tonight."
After whispering those words, Lucas walked away—unaware that Lisa had fainted from the overwhelming excitement at realizing she still had a chance with him. She might not wake up today.
—
Later that day, Lucas arrived at Sophie's office for the conversation she'd requested. He calmly opened the door while Sophie watched him enter, her expression unreadable.
"Sophie!" he greeted with dishonest casualness. "I'm here for purely medical reasons, I swear."
"Shut up." Her voice was dry, cutting. She stepped up to him, arms crossed over her chest. "What the hell do you think you were doing with Lisa?"
Lucas sighed dramatically, like it was just another routine crisis. "Relax. Nothing happened… yet."
"Lucas!" The muffled scream of rage made the windows tremble. "She's your sister!"
"Half-sister," he corrected, raising a finger thoughtfully. "And technically, just adopted. Biologically, no relation."
Sophie stared at him as if she could strangle him with her glare. "That doesn't change the fact she's seventeen, looks twelve, and you clearly have no moral brakes! Do you realize how sick this is?"
Lucas tilted his head, flashing that mischievous, dangerous smile. "I realize you're jealous."
She blinked, caught off guard, but quickly snapped back into fury. "You're unbelievable! This isn't a joke, Lucas. Lisa... she likes you. Really likes you. And you're playing with her feelings like it's just another game!"
He stood up slowly, meeting her eye to eye, their faces inches apart. "I never said it was just a game."
"Then what is it?" she whispered, her voice tense, breath caught in her throat.
"Complicated," he murmured, leaning in closer, his gaze locked on hers. "Just like you."
Before Sophie could step back, think, or react, Lucas slid a hand around her waist and pulled her in close. And with the same boldness that defined him, he pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was quick, but full of intent—a provocative, shameless touch, yet soft enough to leave her frozen for a second.
When he pulled away, he was grinning like he'd just won an absurd bet.
"Still kissing with anger?" he teased, winking.
Sophie stood still, wide-eyed, face blazing. After two seconds, she slapped him across the face—the sound echoing in the room.
Lucas just laughed, rubbing his cheek. "Totally worth it."
"You bastard," she growled, turning to leave, her hand clenched in a fist.
"I know," he replied, hopping onto her desk like it was his own. "But you'll kiss me again."
The door slammed shut, leaving only Lucas's laughter echoing through the office.
But that laughter faded quickly, and Lucas's thoughts shifted toward the energy refinement technique and the light he had received from the figure with blue eyes. As for being in Sophie's office—well, that didn't matter.
Delving deeper into the technique, he understood it was about channeling produced energy using one's willpower. It sounded easy—but it was far from simple. Lucas could hardly imagine a similar method.
Perhaps because his willpower was so strong, Lucas managed to learn the technique quickly, channeling the energy into his fingers.
He shaped the energy into thin white threads, weaving them like a professional tailor, crafting them into all sorts of forms.
From the simplest shapes—a cube, a ball, a pyramid—to the more complex: a sword, a shield, and armor.
Lucas's mind wandered back to the encounter with Lisa, unconsciously influencing his energy control—causing it to take her shape.
Seeing the form of Lisa, replicated in perfect detail, Lucas became aroused but tried to push those thoughts away, reminding himself he'd see Lisa tonight. He redirected his focus to the other gift from the figure with blue eyes.
Concentrating carefully, Lucas sensed a tiny particle of light traveling through his body, nourishing each of his cells. Focusing on it, he began to understand what it was.
That particle of light was a minuscule sun, overloaded with energy. The nourishment it gave his body was due to his cells absorbing the sun's energy—sparking a transformation in his biology.
---
End of Chapter.