Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Chapter 845 - 691: Lanci, Let’s Eat First

The window bore leaves that were thin to the point of near transparency, allowing the morning sunlight to filter softly and warmly into the room.

The entire room was filled with a refreshing and delightful fragrance of wood.

A gentle breeze from the balcony caressed his body, and there was also a faint knock at the door. His eyebrows quivered slightly, and his eyes opened unconsciously.

What caught his attention wasn’t the Parriet-style furniture in the room.

But rather, in a nearby mirror, a reflected face with cool green eyes that couldn’t hide a touch of confusion and drowsiness.

It was as if it wanted to keep people at a distance while simultaneously appearing harmless.

He sat up in bed, leaned on his arms, and looked around.

Soon, his gaze fixated, apparently because the slight movement of getting out of bed made the person knocking outside the bedroom take notice.

The figure with grey hair and golden eyes opened the door, holding the handle, looking at him.

Her long hair was cleverly coiled into a bun at the back of her head, tidy and elegant, with a few stray strands gently framing the side of her face.

"Awake?"

Talia asked.

She was still wearing an apron, seemingly in the midst of preparing breakfast.

"I am."

Lanci was slightly dazed, blinking his eyes.

"Breakfast will be ready in a moment."

Talia nodded and closed the bedroom door.

It was just an ordinary day waking up, yet he felt that getting out of bed today was somewhat different from before, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly that difference was.

Perhaps he was still groggy from sleep.

After all, his last memory was of consecutively finishing fights with Perlman and Enon.

Completely exhausted, he ended up lying down and falling asleep on the roof of the church.

He didn’t know how long he had been in a deep sleep before waking up.

He guessed that later on, Talia and Cat Boss must have brought him back, to this familiar bedroom prepared by Countess Rosalinda, where he had stayed for so many days at the Platinum Sen Palace Mental Hotel.

He shifted his body, pushed the blanket to one side, dangled his legs over the edge, and gently placed them on the soft carpet.

"Fresh as a daisy!"

He rubbed his eyes and stretched lazily, a sense of relaxation spreading throughout his body.

Lanci got up from the edge of the bed.

After freshening up, he left the master bedroom and went into the living room.

The breeze caressed the leaves outside the window, and not far away, birds chirped atop the trees.

A stream of crisp notes floated in through the windowsill and swirled in the comforting early morning light.

The living room was unexpectedly filled with a delicious aroma.

Looking towards the dining table, he saw Talia moving nimbly back and forth between the living room and an adjacent open kitchen.

Today’s breakfast was creamed shrimp and wild mushroom linguine, served with black pepper cheese fried chicken.

Lanci walked slowly to the dining table and took a seat.

He saw Talia bring the final dish, a fig and cereal yogurt salad, and place it in front of him.

"I must be dreaming..."

Lanci looked up at Talia in such a state, feeling as if he were in a different world.

Upon reflection, he realized that ever since he brought Talia back to the dorm, the house had always been very tidy. The chores the Great Love Poet never did, Talia could manage effortlessly.

And that was before she really started cooking and taking care of him.

Lanci had to admit a fact he was reluctant to believe—Talia seemed inherently to be the homemaker type of girl.

Only her temperament bore the nature of the Demon Race, and after a year of too comfortable a life, she would not bother to cook with dedication even if she could.

"Have you ever thought about why my house has always been so tidy?"

Talia sat down at the dining table, seemingly understanding his thoughts, and asked Lanci.

"..."

Lanci was at a loss for words.

Whenever he went to Talia’s house to learn card making, her living environment was always neat and never messy, not only neat but even exquisite.

The single, unemployed girl with grey hair seemed to have particularly good living habits. Hugh from Hyperion always said that being roommates with Tata was a very happy thing.

It turned out to be true.

"Eat up, it’s Wednesday."

Talia looked at the stupefied Lanci, reminding him.

"Wednesday... Did I sleep for almost two days?"

Lanci exclaimed, picking up the fork.

That meant he had to go to work today.

Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays were the days he worked at Count Bathist’s house.

And going by that, he had missed a whole day of work on Monday!

The job he had never made a mistake in had now succumbed to such an irremediable error!

"You two meows, why is the first thing about work..."

Cat Boss jumped from the chair onto the table and lay nearby, watching the two of them.

Now it wasn’t just Lanci, even Tata was all about work.

The two at the dining table seemed at a loss for conversation suddenly, and the atmosphere grew much quieter once more.

Just seeing each other, they couldn’t help but be reminded of their most recent memories together—them chatting on the roof, even leaning against each other unexpectedly.

Given the nature of their relationship, they shouldn’t have been that close.

The more they recalled the proximity, the sensation of each other’s bodies, and the sound of heartbeats and pulses, the more awkward they felt at this moment.

Lanci could only extend his fork towards the dish and put it in his mouth.

Suddenly, his eyes brightened.

In the white porcelain bowl, a fragrant golden creamed linguine lay embedded with tender pink shrimp and brown wild mushrooms, the cream sauce blending seamlessly with the pasta. As he lifted the first forkful to his mouth, the silkiness melted across his tongue in an instant, with the fresh, springy shrimp and aromatic, juicy mushrooms bursting with flavor between his teeth, providing a velvety-smooth experience that left his taste buds completely capitulated.

Then it wasn’t just the taste buds that ruled. It was as though his empty stomach kept sending signals to his brain, urging him to eat more quickly.