"Are there no other teapots?" I asked, holding up the unglazed clay. "And you're absolutely certain you don't have anything like a grate?"

  The short monk serving supper chuckled, his tone light and unbothered. "I'm afraid our humble abode is modest in its supplies, my friend."

  I glanced around the dimly lit dining chamber, my lips twitching in mild disbelief.

  Modest as if.

  The room itself told a different story. Lightstone lanterns cast a warm, golden glow over smooth, polished stone walls etched with carvings of mythical beasts and other intricate patterns. Rows of low cherry wooden tables filled the hall, their surfaces gleaming with care. Around me, monks sat cross-legged on simple, but evidently silk cushions in varying shades of ivory and gold.

  I gazed enviously at the shimmering crystal liquor cups and the pristine porcelain wine vases at nearby tables, where monks were clearly lapping up liquor in a display of their so-called 'Advanced Meditation.'

  If that were a form of meditation, I would have qualified to be a Grand Expert with the amount of drinking I'd done in my past. Not that I had any intention of swallowing even a drop of liquor ever again.

  I gazed down at the pot in my hand, running my finger over its outer walls.

  It wasn't that the clay pot the monk gave me was poor quality—quite the opposite. It was a beautiful bit of craftsmanship. Its surface was smooth and unmarred, with a delicate spout that was formed with pouring precision in mind. And had it been the pu-erh tea variety that the monks served throughout the day, this would have sufficed wonderfully. The trouble was that the porous nature of the pot was at odds with the ideal method of brewing a root-based tea like the ginseng I had acquired.

  Having grown up within the Frey Merchant Guild and running the business—though admittedly to the ground—I was more knowledgeable about tea preparation than the average person.

  Thus, I knew that an unglazed clay pot's porous nature was ideal for enhancing the aroma and flavor profile of certain teas. The pot would absorb and release essential oils, making the infusion richer and more nuanced. However, by the same token, more delicate teas could be downright ruined if brewed in a clay pot.

  Instead of drawing out the ginseng's potent properties, the clay would likely dull its intensity or trap its benefits within its walls.

  "Ahhh, if only there was a glass or a porcelain teapot," I muttered.

  Either would have worked, as neither absorbed nor imparted intense flavors into the tea, ensuring the brew's full potency.

  And then there was the matter of the missing grate.

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

  Grating the root into fine shavings versus hacking it into uneven chunks made all the difference. I'd learned that the hard way while brewing ginger tea after one too many reckless nights of drinking. A finely grated root released its essence fully, creating a brew that was both effective and palatable. On the other hand, chopped chunks, regardless of how thinly cut, barely infused, resulting in a bland and ineffective mixture.

  And this wasn't just any regular root—it was ginseng, a root that Apophis had relentlessly drilled into my mind as a treasure of unparalleled medicinal potency. If I was going to drink it, I wanted every ounce of its restorative properties extracted and properly consumed.

  Should I have just tossed it into a soup and called it a day?

  I sighed, dismissing the thought.

  No. According to the System's knowledge, when prepared correctly, ginseng tea was the most optimal method to unlock the root's full benefits. Anything less would feel like a disservice.

  I looked back at the monk, who was using a pure gold spoon to ladle soup into delicate ceramic bowls.

  "No offense," I noted, raising a brow, "but your definition of 'modest' seems a bit off the mark."

  He only smiled. "The concept of modesty depends on one's circumstances, my friend. In our case, we are merely making the most of what we have available."

  A tap on my shoulder drew my attention.

  "Hey, young man," came a gruff voice behind me. "Are you going to take a bowl, or are you planning to admire the food all night?"

  I turned and saw that a line of about a dozen monks had formed behind me. The two monks directly behind me were clearly practitioners of the 'External Force Meditation' given the beating their faces had taken. Their expressions indicated that they were willing to partake in this so-called advanced meditative practice with me.

  "Yes, I apologize." I hurriedly grabbed three silver spoons and three of the bowls of soup, carrying them over to one of the low tables on which Leona and Apophis were already seated. Since Apophis didn't eat any of the food served, I had intended two of the bowls for Leona, and one for myself.

  But to my surprise, Leona was already eating.

  "I didn't know they served cake here," I remarked, not bothering with Illusion magic to communicate. "Or is that one of the 'Eating Meditations' you must do?"

  I felt a tinge of jealousy over how different her's and my training were.

  They don't, she said telepathically, her golden eyes glinting with mischief. It's from my personal stash.

  I blinked, feeling confused.

  ~She pulled it out of her phoenix void; her second stomach. Apophis explained.

  However, his explanation did not clarify anything in one way or another. Rather, it made me more confused.

  We didn't have any cake in this Round. Not yet. There was that carrot cake at my grandmother's, but… no, this wasn't it.

  My gaze narrowed as I took in the blueberry slice she was devouring, its distinctive blue frosting and the familiar "S" piped delicately on top, or at least what remained of the enormous letter.

  My eyes widened as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Leona," I began slowly, my voice low, "is that the cake Prince Chase Dayalan apologized to me with?"

  It is, she replied matter-of-factly, taking another bite. What of it? You had given it to me, did you not? No take backs.

  The silver spoon in my hand slipped, clattering noisily against the table.

  ~Master. What is it? Apophis hissed into my mind. If you wish for cake. I can use my connections to get you some.

  I let out a laugh. "No, I don't' need any cake."

  "Phoenixes truly are wonderful and magnificent," I muttered, shaking my head.

  Yes, we are, Leona replied, continuing to eat her cake nonchalantly, as if indulging in a cake from a whole different Round was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  "Princess Sedna, you have a… guest."

  Sedna narrowed her eyes at the pause in the servant's voice.

  The man cleared his throat. "It's Claude Noire."

  Ah.

  Sedna set her cup of tea down, fully understanding the hesitation.

  The Ozeryn Dukedom was one of the three dukedoms of the Adovorian Kingdom and by far the wealthiest. Sedna's family had built their massive wealth over the centuries thanks to their monopoly of mines: mana stones and valued gemstones, most notably phoenix eyes. Their wealth had allowed them access to artifacts and information that most couldn't even imagine.

  Thus, due to their immense wealth, rather than in spite of it, Sedna was well-versed and cautious regarding how dangerous Claude Noire and his syndicate truly were. She also knew he wasn't a real threat as long as the balances remained. He understood the delicate balance of power.

  He wouldn't act irrationally against his self-interests.

  "Escort him to the music room," Sedna instructed. "I'll meet him there after finishing my tea. Don't worry, I'll be able to manage on my own—I'll keep my temper in check."

  Sedna was well known for her sharp tongue. But she wasn't stupid.

  Besides, I'm also curious to talk to him about something.

  "Understood, princess." The servant bowed and left.

  Sedna stared into the dark depths of her tea, her reflection shimmering faintly in the liquid.

  He's probably here because I'm an Awakened and familiar with Luca Frey. He is one of the few individuals out there aware of the loops.

  Her aunt had relayed to her a few days ago that Claude Noire and Micah Frey had a rather heated meeting that everyone was surprised didn't end in one or both of them dead. Having not heard such a tale in previous Rounds when her aunt visited, Sedna assumed that something in the last Round had shifted matters.

  The most significant change was that Claude Noire died in the previous Round while on the premises of the Frey Manor.

  Sedna tipped her cup, finishing the last of the bitter liquid.

  Luca Frey must have done something.

  "This is an unexpected visit," Sedna said, entering the music room, relying on her mechanical contraptions to walk in. "I don't believe we've ever met. At least not a time I remember."

  Claude turned, his tall frame silhouetted against the light streaming through the large windows. He stood by the grand piano, his long fingers tracing the keys absentmindedly.

  "I don't recall ever meeting with you either," Claude replied. He had a deep voice.

  Sedna took him in. Claude Noire was handsome in an austere, dangerous way. Unlike Micah Frey, whose charm masked his ruthlessness, Claude's menace was evident—a warning in plain sight.

  "Do you know how to play?" Sedna asked, easing herself into an armchair near the window. The room had been chosen for its privacy, shielded from the prying eyes of her staff.

  "I did when I was younger," Claude answered.

  A single note rang out, soft yet resonant in the acoustically optimized room, as his fingers pressed lightly against a key.

  "Same," Sedna replied bitterly. The illness had taken control over her fingers, rendering them useless, not just for playing the piano but for the most basic of tasks.

  "But I suppose I should still be able to play currently; I just haven't tried," Sedna said.

  She stretched out her hands, inspecting them as if for the first time.

  The demise of her fingers' functions wasn't for a few more years. She could play the piano now if she tried. Albeit the trauma from the previous timeline still rendered her fingers to shake, even if the disease hadn't yet spread that far.

  "Is that why you're helping Luca Frey financially?" Claude inquired. "To recover your health?"

  What is he talking about?

  The question sounded like a certain statement rather than a genuine inquiry. This was odd, given what Sedna knew about Claude.

  "I just want this loop to end, is all," she replied truthfully.

  She had no hopes for recovering her health. She planned on killing herself once this stupid Game ended so she could finally rest in peace and not go through the torturous demise of her illness. Not that she ever intended to reveal her intentions to anyone.

  As for helping Luca, there was no reason to reveal that her financial support was due to Luca having threatened her.

  There's no benefit to sharing something so humiliating. Though, this man might already be well aware of it.

  However, the money that Luca took was ultimately provided to the crown and utilized for the benefit of The Order. Thus, the cost stung less, knowing it aligned with Sedna's own goals.

  "You believe Luca can end the loops?" Claude inquired. His tone had an edge to it.

  Sedna noted this shift with interest. "His appearance is shifting events at the very least."

  She observed Claude's expression. He was chewing on her words with care.

  "From what I understand, you're helping Luca as well," she said, her gaze steady on Claude. "A few of your spiders were spotted near the Town of Ascot, fighting off attackers after him. Why are you helping him exactly?"

  That was a detail Sedna had not figured out despite her aunt's expansive information network.

  "I suspect my reasons are somewhat similar to yours," Claude replied smoothly.

  Sedna raised a brow. "Is that so?"

  Luca successfully threatened the leader of the most powerful syndicate on the continent?

  But the thought quickly adjusted itself.

  I suppose that wouldn't be so surprising. Even that mad prince of the Daylan Dynasty bowed his head before Luca Frey in apology. I'm sure he found a way to make Claude Noire bend. But how exactly?

  "I also wish to live a long and healthy life," Claude continued.

  The 'also' was a tad misaligned. Sedna had no dreams of a long or healthy life. Her ambitions were far simpler: to escape this endless loop, nothing more.

  "I suppose your circumstances make sense. The looping nature of our world would prevent you from ever reaching that goal." Sedna nodded in understanding. "But what I can't understand is why you came to see me?"

  "Ruth Arankagul, Luca's grandmother, passed away today," he replied.

  Today?

  Sedna flinched, realizing the significance of what Claude was alluding to.

  "That's several days later than in previous loops," he added, watching her carefully.

  "Indeed, it is," Sedna agreed, maintaining her composure with a practiced, composed smile, as if it was an insight she was well aware of, despite only just learning of it. "Almost a week later."

  Madame Ruth Arankagul's death was a consistent event in every loop. It was no secret that she had been in poor health, her death inevitable despite her family's wealth and resources. Yet somehow, Luca had delayed the inevitable.

  Luca has the ability to extend someone's life.

  Sedna's mind whirred as she pieced together fragments of memory, moments she had overlooked in the previous loops.

  "There was also the case of the King of Adovoria," she added thoughtfully. "In the prior loop, he lived much longer than expected."

  A flicker of confusion passed across Claude's face.

  Sedna didn't miss it. "Ah," she said, feigning a light tone. "That was after you had died in the last loop."

  The air seemed to shift.

  Claude's expression darkened for a fraction of a second before his lips twisted into an unsettlingly large smile. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper.

  Perhaps bringing up his death wasn't the most tactful choice.

  She'd initially attributed the king's extended life to reduced stress—his eldest daughter hadn't died young in that timeline. But now, the pieces fit together differently. Even Princess Evelyn herself was alive in this new timeline, thanks to Luca's interventions, albeit that was not a health-related death.

  Sedna clutched her hands together, feeling a long-forgotten emotion swell within her.

  Hope.

  She had long ago thrown away hope. After all, she had all the money, resources, and time in the world, and yet none of it mattered in the face of her illness.

  But if Luca could extend Ruth's life—even by a few days—perhaps there was something there.

  "Do you believe Luca is worth the trouble of protecting?" Claude Noire asked, breaking through her internal thoughts.

  "Yes," Sedna replied without hesitation.

  The room fell silent, but Sedna's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in Claude's posture. His shoulders straightened ever so slightly, the faint tightening of his jaw.

  Whatever answers he'd come for, it seems now he has them.

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