---
Elias was already awake. He had never truly slept—only closed his eyes, keeping his senses stretched over the camp like a veil. He sat cross-legged near the fire, sleeves rolled slightly, calmly tending to a small pot balanced over the embers.
The smell of something warm and savory drifted through the air.
Elen stirred first, nose twitching. He blinked blearily, then shot upright. "Food?! Where?! I smell food!" He said with calm tone unmatching his words.
Leya groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. "You smell everything. Go back to sleep."
"No! This is important!" Elen scrambled closer, peering into the pot. "What is it??"
"Breakfast," Elias replied simply, stirring once with a wooden stick.
Elen gasped still half- asleep but now fully awake,"You cook too?!"
"I adapt," Elias said flatly, as though cooking stew at sunrise was no more remarkable than breathing.
Lucian stirred awake next, rubbing his eyes. He smiled faintly seeing Elias, sitting steady as a rock with the children gathered around him.
Meanwhile, hidden in the trees, the spy's stomach growled. Loudly.
---
The Perv… Ahem… Spy's POV:-
She slapped both her cheeks, closing her eyes tightly and cursing herself.
Betrayal! I skipped dinner last night to watch him and now—ugh, it smells good. Too good.
Her gaze drifted down. Elias ladled steaming stew into little bowls, sliding one toward each child. His motions were smooth, precise—like he had done this countless times before. The kids dug in eagerly, slurping with unpolished enthusiasm.
The spy groaned inwardly, hugging the branch tighter.
He feeds them too? Oh, Elias, my perfect flawless caretaker—no, no, stop, don't think that. I'm on duty.
"Uggghh!!! … focus on surveillance only," she muttered under her breath.
---
Below
Without lifting his head, Elias's blindfolded eyes flicked toward her hiding spot.
He raised the ladle, letting a spoonful of stew steam temptingly in the morning air. Calm. Unreadable.
His lips moved.
Hungry?
The spy nearly fell out of the tree. H-he's mocking me now!! She buried her burning face in her knees, muttering, "Yes, I'm hungry, you cruel man, stop flaunting your cooking skills in front of me!"
But Elias only returned to his own bowl, expression as calm as ever. If the faintest twitch of amusement touched his mouth, no one else noticed.
Elen slurped noisily, cheeks puffed. "Wow! Elias, you'd make the best dad ever. Can you adopt me?!"
Lucien snorted into his stew. "You? He'd regret it in an hour."
Leya rolled her eyes, though she was smiling faintly. "Idiot, he already takes care of us."
Elias said nothing. He just sipped his stew, eyes calm, though deep within, a shadow of warmth stirred.
From the tree, the spy scowled, hugging her knees tighter. Tch. Brats. They don't know how lucky they are.
And yet, she didn't look away. Not even once.
---
After Eating:-
Leya, polite as ever, folded her hands. "Thank you, Elias."
Elias simply nodded, stacking the bowls neatly.
But instead of tucking them away, he quietly filled one more. He rose, carrying it with steady steps toward the tree line.
The spy stiffened, back pressed flat against the branch. No. No no no—he wouldn't. Wait!! Please come. Oh no don't…
Elias stopped beneath the very tree she perched in. Without looking up, he set the bowl down at the roots. His voice was calm, low, and certain.
"Eat before you faint."
Her entire body flared hot. She nearly choked on air. "H-he left me food?! Urgghh!! I am in love," she whispered, purple eyes turning into purple hearts—before heating into red ones as her cheeks burned hotter.
She waited until he had returned back toward the fire before descending the branch in a silent scramble.
Kneeling quickly, she snatched up the bowl, hugging it close as if someone might take it away. She inhaled the steam like a starved thief, shoulders curling tight around her prize.
The first bite made her melt. It's sooooo… good. And now—now I owe him again, don't I? Damn him. Damn him and his perfect everything.
From the fire, Lucien tilted his head, sharp as ever. "Uh, Elias? Did you just give food to the forest??"
Elias stirred the ashes, expression calm. "Just an old ghost from battlefield."
The kids glanced at each other, confused—but let it go. They were used to his half-finished sentences by now. Elen still held his empty bowl close, as if reluctant to give it back. Elias didn't comment, only let him.
---
Next Morning:-
Elias rose, brushing stray leaves from his robe. "Before we move, we'll practice."
"Practice?" Elen asked warily, cheeks still puffed.
"Yes," Elias said. "If you can't even handle this, you won't be able to protect yourself in future."
The kids straightened, determination sparking. But even then, Leya kept close to his side, almost brushing his sleeve, and Lucien's fingers lingered near the pack where their bread was kept.
"We will learn and protect ourselves," they said in unison.
"Good," Elias replied, a faint smile lingering at his lips. He led them deeper into the woods. Birds scattered as he stopped near a cluster of bushes.
"Lesson one," Elias said, kneeling. "Survival. You don't need mana for everything. Sometimes, you need eyes."
He plucked a few berries and held them up. "These berries look tasty and—"
Elen stuffed a handful into his mouth before Elias could finish.
"Dead in an hour," Elias deadpanned.
Elen froze, face draining of color. "Wh-what?!"
Lucien burst out laughing, almost falling over. "You idiot, you didn't even let him finish!"
"Relax," Elias added calmly. "Those are harmless."
Elen glared, cheeks flushed. "You're both evil!"
Leya shook her head, voice even. "Exactly. That's why you should pay attention instead of eating like a wild dog."
"WHAT?!" Elen spluttered, stomping. His hand tightened on the strap of his little satchel, as though afraid even that might be taken from him.
"Nothing," Leya said smoothly, rolling her eyes, though her hand hadn't left the hem of Elias's cloak since morning.
From her hidden perch, the spy nearly toppled from laughter, clamping both hands over her mouth. So calm. So cruel. He torments them like it's natural breathing.
The children continued their "training"—Elias pointing out edible herbs, safe water, and how to set simple traps. Lucien stumbled but caught himself, Elen grumbled with every step, Leya tried earnestly. Through it all, Elias's voice stayed steady, guiding and correcting without a single raised tone.
Elias's lessons that morning were not loud nor grand. He didn't bark orders or demand obedience—he simply set tasks, small ones, and watched. Always watching.
The children thought they were only learning about berries, tracks, water sources—but Elias was measuring them.