They decided to walk to the Vogel bakery.
No dungeon.
No politics.
Just city pavement and late-morning light.
Bruno trotted proudly at Alex's side.
Nyx rode her shoulder like a dark queen surveying her domain.
Rico strutted ahead with theatrical authority.
"I am walking my humans," Rico declared.
"You are being walked," Phong corrected.
Rico ignored him and nearly committed a felony.
A plastic cup of espresso sat abandoned on a metal bench outside a laundromat.
Rico's eyes locked on it.
Opportunity.
He moved with criminal grace.
Phong caught him mid-heist by the scruff.
"No."
"It is unattended," Rico argued.
"It is not yours."
"It is abandoned property."
"It is someone's," Phong said flatly.
Rico sighed like a martyr as Phong set him down.
"You limit my growth."
They reached the bakery.
The bell chimed.
Warm bread smell wrapped around them instantly.
Mr. Vogel looked up from the counter.
Then at Phong.
Then at Alex.
Then at the animals.
He smiled slowly.
"Ah."
Mrs. Vogel emerged from the back, wiping her hands.
"You came."
Alex walked in like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Phong suddenly became aware of everything.
How he stood.
How he breathed.
How last night had shifted something inside him.
He'd been here twice.
First as her friend, drifting in sometimes after New Year's. Then as her boyfriend on White Valentine.
But now it felt different.
He could swear her parents' gaze could skewer him like a kebab.
Alex leaned in and whispered, "Don't look so intense."
"I'm not."
"You look like you're about to pitch an already bankrupt startup."
He exhaled through his nose.
She smirked. "You're eager to brag to my parents about bagging their precious daughter, aren't you?"
He nearly spit the coffee he'd just sipped.
"I—what—no—"
Mr. Vogel raised a brow. "Should I be concerned?"
Alex laughed, bright and easy. "He's just flustered."
Mrs. Vogel chuckled softly. "Good."
They started normally.
Coffee. Pastries. Dungeon rumors.
The Phoenix.
Mr. Vogel shook his head slowly at the updates.
"Fire like that… not natural."
"No," Phong agreed.
After a few minutes, Mr. Vogel nodded toward the stairs.
"Alex, invite him to your room."
Phong blinked.
Mr. Vogel continued, calm as ever. "You should be on the same pace."
No hostility. No interrogation.
Just quiet acknowledgment.
Alex didn't hesitate.
"Come on."
Her room was exactly what you'd expect.
Organized, but lived-in.
Books stacked neatly.
A corkboard full of notes.
Old fencing trophies. Nothing wild. The highest was a bronze medal at county level.
Alex closed the door softly and shrugged.
"Picked it up again after the whole dungeon thing. Switched to HEMA. Janet knows a place. Want to go sometimes?"
Phong nodded. "Why not? Do they have competitive planting courses?"
She chuckled.
Then she turned to him.
The teasing drained away.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him tight.
He felt it immediately.
This wasn't playful.
It was grounding.
"How," she asked quietly, "are you planning to take revenge now that I'm in your life?"
No accusation.
No judgment.
Just direct.
Phong didn't dodge it.
He didn't lie.
"I was planning to kill Josh."
Alex didn't flinch.
"In the dungeon," he continued. "Using the garden."
He watched her face as he spoke, measuring her reaction the way he used to measure soil.
"The media wouldn't connect death by monstrous plant to me," he said evenly. "If he dies to a mutated crop inside Floor One, it's a dungeon casualty."
"And his father?" she asked.
"If he ever steps down there," Phong said. His voice stayed level. "He'd become fertilizer too."
The words hung between them.
Phong didn't look wild.
He didn't look possessed.
He looked practical.
Measured.
"I haven't let revenge swallow me," he added, softer. "Instead… I built something incredible."
Alex listened without interrupting.
"I surrounded myself with good people," he said. "With you. With Dominic and Janet. With Selena. With the animals."
He inhaled slowly.
"I still appreciate what Long said to me that day."
Then he stepped back a fraction.
"But precisely because of that…"
He looked down at his hands.
"I didn't plan to involve any of you."
"Not you."
"Not the camp."
"Just me."
"And the plants."
He gave a small shrug.
"I'm a farmer."
"My community only needs fluffy potatoes and refreshing lime juice."
He flexed his fingers once.
"The dirt?"
He looked at his hands again.
"That's mine."
Silence stretched.
Alex could see it.
This wasn't bloodlust.
This wasn't spiraling hatred.
This was compartmentalized intent.
A man who'd built warmth, and kept one cold corner sealed for later.
"You were going to carry that alone," she said.
"Yes."
"You think I wouldn't notice?"
Phong didn't answer.
Alex stepped closer again.
"Idiot."
The word came soft, almost tender.
Then she did the sweetest, most disarming thing possible.
She kissed him.
Not quick.
Not shy.
Deliberate.
When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his.
"You don't get to decide alone what I carry."
His chest tightened.
"I don't want you in something murky," he said.
"I'm already in it," Alex replied. Steady. "You think loving you doesn't mean standing where you stand?"
Phong looked at her.
Really looked.
She wasn't naïve. She wasn't blind.
She was Level 29 Mind Blade. She'd fought mages and warbands.
And she was choosing him anyway.
"I'm not asking you to forgive them," she said softly.
"I'm not asking you to let it go."
"But don't turn yourself into a solitary executioner either."
Her fingers threaded through his.
"You built a garden."
"You built alliances."
"You built community."
"Don't reduce yourself to one man and his plants again. Not after everything you went through to get here."
Phong swallowed.
"I don't want it to touch you."
"It already did," she said gently. "The moment they hurt you."
He let out a slow breath.
The room felt smaller.
But steadier.
Downstairs, trays slid and clinked. Mr. Vogel moved through his day.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Phong met her eyes.
"I don't know what I'll do yet."
"Good," Alex said.
She kissed him again, softer.
"Because if you're planning murder in detail, that's when I worry."
He almost smiled.
"Fair."
Alex rested her head against his chest.
"If it comes to it," she said quietly, "we face it together."
Phong closed his eyes.
For months, revenge had been a clean, private calculation.
Now it tangled with warmth.
With fingers in his hair.
With a room full of morning light.
He wrapped his arms around her.
"I don't regret last night," he murmured. "Well… my back does."
Alex huffed a laugh. "Good."
"And I don't regret building instead of burning," he added.
Alex nodded once. "Keep building."
Phong didn't promise to abandon vengeance.
But it no longer sat alone at the center of his future.
Not with her here.
Not with a garden that could grow more than weapons.
Outside the door, fresh bread smell drifted up the stairs.
Life, messy and warm and fragile, kept going.
And Phong, farmer between fire and soil, stood in a room that might one day be called his in-laws' and realized revenge no longer stood alone in front of him.
Phong stayed for lunch.
It wasn't discussed.
Mrs. Vogel simply said, "You're not leaving before eating."
And that was that.
He helped carry plates to the long wooden table near the front window. The bakery closed early, family time, Mr. Vogel declared.
The atmosphere shifted.
Not interrogation.
Not ceremony.
Something heavier than casual hospitality.
Mr. Vogel poured water for everyone, then looked straight at Phong.
"You may call us Dad and Mom."
Phong blinked. "…I can?"
Mrs. Vogel smiled gently. "Yes."
Alex nearly dropped her fork.
"That's a first."
Mr. Vogel waved it off. "Your previous partners were… exploratory."
Alex groaned. "Papa."
He shrugged. "You were learning."
Phong glanced at Alex. "You had—?"
"Two," she said quickly. "One in high school. A girl. Then a boy freshman year."
Mrs. Vogel nodded. "We did not interfere."
Mr. Vogel added, "We knew you were not serious."
Alex narrowed her eyes. "You knew?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Mrs. Vogel chuckled. "A mother knows."
Phong sat very still.
He wasn't threatened.
Just acutely aware.
Mr. Vogel looked back at him.
"You are different."
Not dramatic. Just measured.
Mrs. Vogel spoke gently.
"What happened to you changed her."
Phong's jaw tightened.
"For a while," she added, "for worse."
Alex's shoulders lowered a fraction.
"She was angrier," Mr. Vogel said plainly. "Quieter."
Mrs. Vogel's gaze softened.
"But then… she brought you here."
Phong remembered that day.
Alex's smile when she introduced him.
Not her campus-queen smile.
Not her vigilante smirk.
Something warm.
Like apfelstrudel fresh out of the oven.
Mrs. Vogel touched Alex's hand.
"Her sweetness returned."
No accusation.
Just honesty.
Mr. Vogel folded his arms loosely.
"We were not pleased with you," he said. "We know it wasn't your fault. But emotions don't obey logic."
Phong nodded once.
"I understand."
"We did not tell you," Mrs. Vogel added.
"But we held some… resentment."
Alex looked surprised.
"You never said—"
"We did not need to," Mr. Vogel replied.
He looked at Phong again.
"But now?"
Mrs. Vogel smiled.
"Now we forgive you."
The words hit harder than Phong expected.
He hadn't asked for it.
He hadn't expected it.
But hearing it loosened something in his chest.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Then lunch arrived in full force.
Haxe.
Golden skin blistered and crackled perfectly.
Fat rendered just right.
Sauerkraut simmered rich and sour with caraway and slow-cooked depth.
Mashed potatoes, creamy and heavy in the best way.
Thick gravy, savory and dark.
Phong's eyes widened.
"This is…"
"Proper food," Mr. Vogel declared.
They ate.
The Haxe skin shattered under the knife with a clean crunch.
The meat inside came tender and deeply seasoned.
Phong chewed slow, appreciating texture like he was analyzing dungeon crops.
Mrs. Vogel watched him with quiet satisfaction.
"You like?"
"Yes."
Phong hesitated, then said, "Would you teach me?"
Mrs. Vogel blinked. "Teach you?"
"How to make gepökelte Haxe."
Mr. Vogel laughed.
"For what purpose?"
Phong didn't hesitate.
"The crunch and texture would be perfect for giả cầy."
They stared at him.
Then Mr. Vogel burst out laughing.
"You want to hybridize German pork knuckle with Vietnamese giả cầy?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Vogel smiled brightly.
"I like him."
Alex leaned back smugly.
Phong kept going, earnest now.
"The salted preparation would deepen the fermentation notes from shrimp paste."
Mr. Vogel pointed at him.
"Now you are speaking language."
Mrs. Vogel nodded.
"I will teach you."
They discussed brining ratios and skin-drying techniques like it was a seminar.
At some point Mr. Vogel leaned back and eyed Phong critically.
"You should raise animals."
Phong blinked. "In the camp?"
"Yes. Chickens first."
Janet would love that.
Egg supply.
Protein.
Feather utility.
Phong nodded slowly.
"I like that."
Mr. Vogel grinned.
"You see? Already planning."
Then his smirk sharpened.
"I like him more than I like you, Alexandra."
Alex gasped. "Papa!"
Phong almost laughed out loud.
So much for Germans lacking humor.
Mr. Vogel was a menace.
Meanwhile, the animals integrated seamlessly.
Bruno decided within fifteen minutes that Mrs. Vogel was "big grandma." He followed her everywhere, tail wagging like a metronome.
Nyx perched near the bread display and accepted gentle head pats with aristocratic grace.
Mrs. Vogel didn't blink at the talking.
"Oh," she said calmly when Nyx commented on sauerkraut acidity, "intelligent. Good."
Alex watched at first, wary her mother might find it overwhelming.
But there was no discomfort.
Only curiosity.
Rico, on the other hand, got introduced to German beer by Mr. Vogel, who had slid into what could only be described as mildly-enabled drunk-uncle mode.
"It is cultural exchange," Mr. Vogel insisted.
Rico took one sip.
Paused.
Considered.
"…This is fermented wheat disappointment."
Mr. Vogel roared with laughter.
Alex buried her face in her hands.
Mrs. Vogel shook her head affectionately.
"You two deserve each other," she told Alex.
They talked for hours.
Food.
Chickens.
Dungeon rumors.
The Phoenix.
Resilience.
No one tiptoed around tragedy.
No one drowned in it either.
By the time coffee was served, real coffee and not Long's yoghurt abomination, the atmosphere had shifted.
Phong no longer felt like a guest.
He felt anchored.
When it was finally time to leave, Mrs. Vogel hugged him.
Not polite.
Not tentative.
Firm.
Mr. Vogel clasped his shoulder.
"Next time, you cook with us."
"I will," Phong said.
Outside on the sidewalk, Alex slipped her hand into his.
"You survived."
Phong nodded slowly.
"I think they like me."
Alex smirked.
"They gave you titles."
Phong glanced back at the bakery.
Warm light spilled through the windows.
Laughter still drifted out.
Something settled into place inside him.
Not explosive.
Not dramatic.
Just steady.
By the time they reached the corner, he realized he didn't feel like an outsider looking in anymore.
He felt like someone with somewhere to return to.
Between mountain and lake.
Between dungeon and city.
Between tragedy and growth.
He had a camp.
He had friends.
And now, somehow, he had family.