Player Chapter 24. I Need Protein
He paused.
He considered lying.
Instead, he shrugged. "I am."
She blinked.
He leaned back in his chair. "But being troubled doesn't mean I stop eating."
Eric let out a small huff that almost resembled a laugh. "You are… strange."
"Efficient," Riven corrected. "If we're going to dismantle a radical Saint and her extremist knight, I need protein."
A servant brought bowls of stew. Bread. Roasted vegetables.
Riven stared at it like it was a treasure chest.
He took a bite.
His eyes closed briefly.
Worth it.
It was better than this morning's bread.
Elena watched him for a second too long.
He shouldn't be this normal.
He shouldn't be this unaffected.
But then she noticed something subtle, the way his gaze sharpened every time someone entered the dining hall. The way he positioned himself so he could see both exits. The way his back never fully relaxed against the chair.
He wasn't unaffected.
He was compartmentalizing.
Eric noticed it too.
"You're thinking," Eric said quietly.
"Kinda."
"About the Dawn Temple?"
"Among other things."
He dipped bread into stew thoughtfully. "If she established her temple a year ago, she's been building influence quietly. That means funding. That means followers. That means someone important believes in her."
Elena swallowed slowly. "Or someone important benefits from her."
Riven glanced at her. There it is.
She wasn't just hurt. She was thinking politically now.
Eric leaned back slightly, wincing at the movement. "We cannot confront her directly yet."
"Obviously," Riven replied. "We don't even know how deep this goes."
He chewed slowly.
Then he added casually, "Also, I want dessert."
Eric stared.
Elena stared.
"You are impossible," she said softly.
"Incorrect," he replied. "I am hungry."
A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite everything. She tried to hide it. Failed.
He noticed.
And felt strangely satisfied.
Not because he won something. Not because he outplayed anyone.
Just because for one second, one tiny, fragile second, she didn't look like the world had just betrayed her.
That mattered more than he wanted to admit.
He took another bite of his dessert, something layered with cream and honey and probably unnecessary levels of sugar, and leaned back in his chair like a man who had not just uncovered a religious conspiracy thirty minutes ago.
Eric cleared his throat. "You handle stress unusually."
Riven glanced at him lazily. "I've had worse teammates."
Eric blinked. "Teammates?"
"Figure of speech." He waved it off. "You panic, you lose. You overthink, you freeze. You eat, you think better."
Eric raised a brow. "Is that doctrine?"
"Kind of."
Elena tilted her head slightly. "You sound like someone who's trained for competition."
Riven shrugged. "I don't like losing."
Eric gave a faint smile. "Few people do."
"No," Riven corrected calmly, cutting another piece of cake. "Most people don't like the feeling of losing. I don't like the existence of losing."
That earned a quiet pause from both of them.
Elena studied him. Not judging. Just cataloguing.
He wasn't boastful. He wasn't loud.
He was certain.
Eric leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "If the Dawn Temple has influence in the northern district, confronting them will require subtlety."
"Politics," Riven muttered with mild disgust.
"Yes. Politics."
Riven pointed his fork at Eric. "That's your territory. You do noble speeches. I'll do punching."
Elena sighed softly. "We are not punching Saints."
He almost laughed but decided to smile faintly. "We'll see."
The conversation drifted a little lighter after that, almost unnaturally so. It was like all three of them silently agreed that if they stayed in heavy territory too long, something inside would crack.
Eric spoke about the northern district's market.
Elena mentioned temple logistics.
Riven asked which tavern had the best stew and whether temple cooks accepted honest bribes.
"You cannot bribe temple cooks," Elena said.
"Watch me."
Eric huffed a quiet laugh.
For a brief moment, it felt like a normal table.
Then the dessert plates were cleared.
And tea was brought.
Riven immediately grabbed the rest of his sweet dish and attacked it with zero hesitation.
Elena only accepted tea.
Riven noticed.
"You don't like dessert?" he asked casually, mouth half-full.
She shook her head slightly. "I do."
"Then why not?"
"I prefer tea."
Eric smiled faintly. "I love tea too. What kind of tea do you like?"
Elena paused.
Something flickered behind her eyes.
Then she smiled.
Soft. Bitter.
"Osmanthus Oolong Milk Tea."
Riven froze.
Fork mid-air.
He slowly lowered it.
This world was structured around western medieval fantasy logic. Wheat fields. Stew. Herbal infusions. Basic tea leaves.
Not Osmanthus.
Not Oolong.
And absolutely not milk tea combinations trending in bubble-tea shops in his real world.
Eric blinked. "I've never heard of it."
Elena's smile didn't fade, but it changed. It became smaller. "It's not from here. Don't worry about it."
She took a sip of her tea.
Riven didn't speak.
He couldn't.
Because in his head?
Flash memory.
His sister at the kitchen counter.
Determined. Dramatic. Overly serious about tea proportions.
His dad literally paid a professional tea maker so she could "learn properly."
And then her experiments.
Every single one tested on him.
"Try it, brother."
"It tastes like flower perfume."
"It's supposed to."
He had suffered.
Repeatedly.
And yet…
That drink. Osmanthus Oolong Milk Tea. It wasn't common. It wasn't generic. It was specific. Popular in their world.
Not this one.
Riven felt something bloom in his chest.
Relief.
Warm. Unexpected.
'She's like me. A transmigrator.'
He kept his face neutral. Eric was still here. The prince didn't know. She didn't know about him either.
But inside?
He felt lighter than he had all day.
'At least now,' he thought quietly, 'I don't have to hold back.'
Because she understands things this world shouldn't know.
Because she isn't an NPC.
He finished his dessert slowly, almost thoughtfully.
Elena stared at her tea cup.
Eric was still watching her expression, concerned.
Riven stood up suddenly.
He grabbed an empty glass from the table.
"Can I borrow this?" he asked Elena.
She blinked. "Sure."
"Thanks."
Eric frowned slightly. "Where are you going?"
Riven stretched his shoulders once, casual. "Hunting."
Both of them looked up.
"I need to raise my level before we kick that fake Saint and her knight's asses," he said plainly. "I'll leave the political stuff to you. I'm not a fan of annoying things."
Eric cringed.
Elena almost choked on her tea.
He pointed toward the door casually. "Also… I'll let you feed my pet."
Eric blinked. "…Pet?"
"The fake vampire. What's his name again? Rowan?"
"It's Ralen," said Elena. "You are not calling a person a pet."
"I am."
Eric stared in disbelief. "He really considers that fake vampire as his pet…?"
Riven waved dismissively. "Temporary pet."
He walked toward the exit like the conversation was concluded.
"I'll be back before dinner," he added over his shoulder. "Don't die without me."
And then he left.
Just like that.
The doors shut softly behind him.
Silence settled.
Eric leaned back slowly, rubbing his temple. "He is… unbelievable."
Elena didn't respond.
She stared at her tea.
The surface reflected the light from the windows. Still. Calm.
But inside her?
Storm.
A new Saint.
A manipulated crusade.
Her name dragged quietly through rumors.
Her competence questioned.
Her role replaced.
She exhaled slowly.
Eric glanced at her. "Are you alright?"
She nodded once.
But her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
"Saint of Dawn…" she whispered quietly.
Eric's jaw hardened. "We will handle it."
Outside, in the bright afternoon light, Riven adjusted his coat and glanced at his empty glass, which he later tossed into his inventory.
He smirked faintly.
"System," he muttered.
[Yes, sir?]
"Osmanthus Oolong Milk Tea. Give me a list of similar ingredients I can use to make it."