After a while, the feeding session finally ended.
Lyra set the empty bottle aside and sat at the edge of the bed,
her eyes lingering on him with that same patient,
protective gaze she always wore.
The room was deathly quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of his own breathing.
Outside, the evening had fully claimed the sky, and pale moonlight began to slip through the window of our small house, casting long, silvery shadows across the floor.
"The food situation will be fine for a few days, my prince,"
Lyra spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper in the dark.
As she settled onto the bed beside me,
He felt the cool brush of silk against his skin.
It was a jarring contrast to her usual battle-maid uniform—the one built for discipline,
hidden blades, and blood. In this thigh-length charcoal silk nightgown,
She looked like a completely different person.
The fabric was thin,
hugging every curve of her body like a second skin.
It left almost nothing to the imagination.
One look was enough to tell him she wore nothing underneath.
He stared fixedly at the ceiling,
His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
In his past life on Earth, He had been a twenty-seven-year-old virgin,
a man who never even came close to a woman like this.
Now, reborn as a prince in a cultivation world,
He was sharing a bed with a woman who would have easily been the No. 1 model back on Earth.
If people back home saw her, they'd lose their minds...
And here she is, a maid in this world, he thought, letting out a silent sigh.
sigh.
Every time she shifted,
The silk rustled, a sound that felt loud in the silence.
He was caught in a desperate internal battle:
Should I just close His eyes and sleep?
or
Should I keep looking at her perfect form?
His mental age of twenty-seven was making this incredibly awkward.
"The market fruits were better than I expected."
She spoke suddenly, drawing his gaze. Lyra murmured, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
"The situation in Lunaris is stable for now, though the quality of spiritual ingredients is... lacking."
She sighed,
And he could feel the vibration of it through the mattress.
"But it will do. We must maintain appearances while you grow, my prince."
As she spoke,
she moved closer,
resting her warm hand gently on his small stomach.
He froze. To her, he was just a baby—a precious charge to be protected.
She had no idea that inside this tiny body was the soul of a man who was currently having a crisis of conscience.
Suddenly,
Lyra leaned in.
Her face was only inches from his.
"Sorry, my prince,"
She whispered,
A playful glint appeared in her eyes.
"A maid shouldn't be so bold, but you are just so cute. I simply couldn't help myself."
Muah.
She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
That lingered a little longer than normal.
Her lips were soft.
Evan froze.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Being called "cute" was a massive blow to his pride as a grown man,
But the proximity was making my head spin.
Before he could process it, she kissed his forehead too.
"Good night, my prince," she whispered.
Overwhelmed by the awkwardness,
He quickly turned his head away,
feigning sleep. He squeezed his eyes shut,
praying for sleep to take him before his heart gave him away.
Then, the room went silent.
It wasn't just a normal quiet;
It was as if the very air had frozen.
Even the wind howling outside the house seemed to vanish instantly.
A sharp, prickly sensation crawled up his spine—
the same survival instinct that had flared when they were cornered by those bandits.
Something was wrong.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head back to look at her.
Lyra was still there, sitting upright, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.
She was staring toward the window, her body as rigid as a statue.
His heart nearly stopped.
Her eyes—those sharp, dark eyes that usually held a playful spark—had completely changed.
They weren't black anymore.
They were glowing with a deep,
predatory crimson, burning like dying embers in the dark.
The playful maid was gone.
In her place sat something ancient, powerful, and undeniably dangerous.
◇ ◇ ◇
Just a void where a lethal beauty had been lying moments ago.
Panic flared in Evan's chest.
His mind—sharp with the maturity of twenty-seven years—immediately understood something was wrong.
The crimson glow in her eyes earlier…
That wasn't exhaustion.
That was the gaze of a predator sensing prey.
Then—
A muffled grunt echoed outside.
Shink.
The unmistakable sound of steel meeting flesh followed.
Evan struggled to sit up.
His tiny infant limbs felt like lead.
No matter how hard he tried, his body refused to cooperate.
He hadn't even begun cultivation yet.
But his soul was that of a grown man, and the royal blood flowing through this small body gave him senses far sharper than those of a normal infant.
He couldn't control qi.
But he could feel it.
And right now—
The air outside was trembling.
A terrifying pressure pressed against the thin stone walls of the house.
Chaotic energy surged in violent waves.
Bandits.
Several figures dressed in rough leather armor had surrounded the house.
They were known as Borderland Scavengers—ruthless criminals who preyed on isolated homes and caravans.
Yet none of them were moving.
They stood frozen.
In the center of the clearing—
Lyra stood silently.
She was no longer the playful maid from moments ago.
A terrifying aura radiated from her body.
Thin streaks of violet lightning flickered across her skin.
The hidden Thunder Roc Lightning Formation buried beneath the house had awakened.
The array pulsed faintly beneath the earth, resonating with her breathing.
Power flowed through her like a storm contained in human form.
"You dared…"
Lyra's voice cut through the night.
It was no longer gentle.
It carried the crushing weight of a mountain.
"...to bring your filth to his doorstep?"
The lead bandit stepped forward.
He was not an ordinary thug.
The pressure around his body revealed his cultivation.
Mid-Level Essence Gathering Realm.
A cultivator strong enough to wipe out an entire village alone.
Yet now—
His hands trembled.
"W-witch! We only wanted the—"
He never finished.
Lyra moved.
To Evan's eyes, it looked like she vanished.
A streak of violet lightning flashed across the clearing.
Her hand pierced through the bandit's chest armor as if it were thin cloth.
Electricity exploded through his body.
The bandit convulsed violently.
His eyes rolled back as lightning fried his nerves and internal organs.
But Lyra did not kill him.
With a precise flick of her wrist, she released a controlled pulse of qi.
The bandit collapsed instantly—unconscious.
She slowly turned toward the remaining men.
Three bandits remained.
Their weapons clattered to the ground.
Their courage shattered under the sheer pressure of her presence.
But Lyra didn't finish them.
Instead, her crimson eyes flickered.
For a brief moment—
She glanced back toward the house.
Toward Evan.
Then she looked toward the treeline.
Her gaze hardened.
She could feel them.
More observers are hiding in the shadows.
Watching.
If she killed these men tonight—
More would come later seeking revenge.
No.
Death wasn't enough.
They needed fear.
Lyra allowed a fragment of her true power to leak out.
The air suddenly grew heavy.
The ground trembled faintly.
A terrifying wave of pressure erupted outward.
Leaves shook violently in the trees.
She slowly turned toward the remaining bandits.
Three stood in the clearing.
More hid in the treeline.
Their eyes were wide with fear.
But Lyra did not attack.
Instead—
She simply exhaled.
A low hum filled the air.
Then the little strand of her cultivation erupted outward.
A crushing wave of pressure exploded from her like an invisible storm.
The ground trembled.
Leaves shook violently in the trees.
The bandits froze.
Their knees buckled as the weight of her aura crashed down on them.
This was the pressure of a high-level cultivator.
The difference between predator and prey.
One of the weaker bandits screamed as blood suddenly burst from his nose.
Another collapsed instantly, his heart unable to endure the pressure.
He died before even understanding what had happened.
The others fell to their knees.
Their weapons clattered uselessly to the ground.
Fear swallowed the clearing.
Even the hidden observers in the forest began to panic.
Lyra's crimson eyes slowly swept across them.
She didn't even need to look directly at them.
They could feel her gaze.
Cold.
Merciless.
"You came here…"
Her voice was calm.
But it carried through the clearing like thunder.
"…to rob this house?"
No one dared answer.
The surviving bandits trembled like leaves in a storm.
Lyra raised one hand slightly.
Lightning crackled along her fingertips.
"Look carefully."
Her aura intensified.
The pressure doubled.
Another man in the treeline collapsed, choking as his lungs refused to breathe.
"This house…"
Her crimson eyes glowed brighter.
"…is under my protection."
She lowered her hand.
The pressure suddenly vanished.
The bandits gasped for air as if they had been drowning.
"Take your wounded," Lyra said coldly.
"And carry this message back."
"If anyone comes here again—"
Lightning flickered once more around her body.
"I will not be this merciful."
No one hesitated.
The surviving bandits scrambled to drag away the unconscious and the dead.
Within seconds, the forest swallowed them.
Silence returned.
The clearing looked as if a storm had just passed through it.
Lyra stood there for a moment longer.
Then her crimson eyes flickered.
She glanced back toward the house.
Toward the small room where Evan slept.
The terrifying aura around her faded.
The lightning disappeared.
In the blink of an eye—
The deadly cultivator was gone.
Only Lyra remained.
Moments later, a soft thud landed on the porch.
Inside the house, Evan quickly lay back down.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
His breathing was slow and steady.
The door creaked open.
A cool breeze entered the room, carrying the scent of jasmine… and faint burnt ozone.
The mattress dipped slightly.
Lyra was back.
Her fingers gently brushed through his hair.
They trembled faintly, leftover lightning still dancing along her skin.
"Sleep well, my prince," she whispered softly.
"The world outside is loud…"
"But I will keep it quiet for you."
Evan didn't move.
But inside, his heart was racing.
The woman who fed him milk, tucked him into bed, and called him cute…
Had just killed men with nothing but her presence.
And a terrifying thought slowly formed in his mind.
If Lyra were this powerful…
Then what kind of enemies were they hiding from?
The crimson glow in her eyes had faded.
But the shadow it cast over his future had only grown longer.