86-90

*Chapter 86: The Invisible Sword*

Yes, that negative emotion had always been lurking in the traces of magic surrounding the two of them.

The so-called "Trace" is an enchantment implanted by the Ministry of Magic into young wizards under the age of seventeen to detect magical activity. It automatically disappears once they come of age.

Of course, the Trace is not entirely stable and its tracking isn’t precise. For instance, when Dobby caused trouble at Harry’s house a few days ago, the Ministry could only determine the general location of the magic use. They couldn’t be certain who cast the spell, but unfortunately, Harry was the only one in the house known to be capable of magic. So, naturally, Harry took the blame.

It’s akin to losing your phone in real life. Most phones nowadays have tracking features, but they can't pinpoint the exact apartment unit it's in. You can't exactly justify knocking on every door to search for it—unless, of course, it’s something extremely important or classified.

After all, without a legitimate reason, there’s no justification—just like in Harry’s case. All Dobby had done was cast a simple Levitation Charm. The Ministry wasn’t going to bother casting a Prior Incantato on his wand; it wasn’t worth the effort or expense.

But why did Catherine dare to use magic at home? Because her mother was also a witch. The Ministry couldn’t determine whether it was her or her mother who cast the spell. In wizarding households, such things are typically overlooked, so long as no one is using the Killing Curse or anything equally severe.

The reason for implanting the Trace is likely tied to the Statute of Secrecy. Children, after all, can be impulsive and prone to showing off. If a young wizard decided to impress their Muggle friends with a "return of the dragon king" stunt or some flashy magic tricks, it could lead to serious trouble.

Because of this, even though both Luke and Luna were capable of wandless magic, they refrained from using it recklessly, knowing the Trace might harbor something that could influence their emotions.

“We need to think of a plan,” Luna said calmly, showing no sign of panic.

Luke drew his crystal sword, spinning it expertly in his hand.

“Actually, I’m pretty good with a sword.”

As he spoke, he tapped the blade lightly with his finger, producing a clear, ringing sound.

In the distance, an inhuman wail echoed toward them.

“Zombies,” Catherine recognized the humanoid monsters shambling toward them. “Strange… Why are such vile creatures here?”

“These evil undead creatures are extremely afraid of fire and sunlight,” she said, glancing up at the sky. “It seems we can’t count on sunlight now. Do you know a Fire-Making Charm?”

This question was directed at Luna.

Luna stared blankly at Catherine for a moment, then broke into a cheerful smile. There was no trace of mockery in her expression, but it still left Catherine feeling a bit awkward.

Luke, seeing Luna’s smile, couldn’t help but laugh too.

From her expression, he could almost read the words: Am I the crazy one, or are you?  

“Stop laughing!” Catherine’s face turned red with embarrassment. In her urgency, she’d forgotten that Luna was just a young witch who hadn’t even started school yet.

At that moment, she felt a tug on her arm.

Turning her head, she saw Luke holding something—or rather, he seemed to be holding something, but she couldn’t see anything.

“What are you doing?” Catherine asked, puzzled.

“Take the sword. Why are you just standing there?” Luke asked, equally confused. Wasn’t it obvious he was holding a treasure?

“A sword?” Catherine was truly bewildered now. “Isn’t the crystal sword in your other hand? What are you talking about?”

“You can’t see it?”

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Luke.”

“How strange…” Luke scratched his head, completely baffled. To him, the sword in his hand was perfectly visible.

Before he could say more, Luna spoke up.

“I can see it. It’s a black, broad-bladed sword.”

“Exactly! The Dark Sword! You can see it?” Luke looked at Luna as though she were a kindred spirit, passing the Dark Sword to her.

Luna hesitated. She didn’t think she could lift such a heavy-looking sword, but to her surprise, it was as light as a feather.

“I should remind you, Mr. Montbatten,” Luna said in her sing-song voice. “Mr. Warrington already mentioned that only fire can harm zombies.”

“Oh… right.” Luke pulled a pine resin-like substance from his pocket—or more accurately, from the dimensional storage gifted by the system—and smeared it on the blade of Luna’s Dark Sword.

A special product from the High Wall of Lothric—Charcoal Pine Resin.

The moment he released the sword, it burst into roaring flames.

Catherine finally saw it—there was indeed a sword, its transparent outline now clearly visible through the flames.

“So it really does exist…” she murmured.

Luna stared at the burning Dark Sword in fascination. “How cool! I’ve always wanted a sword, but my dad wouldn’t let me.”

“Keep it,” Luke offered generously. “On the condition that all three of us make it out of here alive.”

As he spoke, the three of them were surrounded by zombies.

Following the same process, Luke applied the resin to the spirit sword and handed it to Catherine.

“What about you?” Catherine asked, concerned, as she hesitated to take it.

Luke picked up his lion-headed staff and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my own way.”

“No—you can’t!” Catherine protested anxiously. “You can’t use magic right now…”

“It’s fine,” Luke reassured her. Under Catherine’s watchful gaze, the head of his staff extended, forming a transparent, glowing blue sword.

A secret technique: Carian Greatsword.

A magical skill from the Lands Between, capable of harming dark creatures. Since it didn’t originate from this world, the Trace couldn’t detect it.

“Trust me, Cathy,” Luke said gently.

Catherine said no more. Silently, she took the crystal sword.

Now free of hesitation, she placed complete trust in Luke.

Zombies, despite looking human, were pale-skinned with milky-white, clouded eyes—their most distinctive feature. In the sixth book of the original series, the zombies Harry and Dumbledore encountered on the lake were mostly homeless Muggle vagrants or wizards who had mysteriously disappeared.

The zombies surrounding them now, however, were dressed in medieval attire, as though from a different era.

The creatures snarled and roared at the three, but they hesitated to approach, fearing the blazing swords wielded by Catherine and Luna.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 87: This is an Illusion—What Are You Hiding?*

It’s true that flames are the bane of undead corpses. The two long swords, engulfed in flickering orange-red fire, sliced through the undead as easily as a hot knife through butter, effortlessly cutting them in half.

Their bodies were soon consumed by the roaring flames, reducing them to ashes.

The undead seemed endless, surging toward the trio in waves. They tirelessly cut down their foes, none of them noticing anything amiss. Even Luna, a young witch of her age with minimal training, should have been exhausted by now. Yet, despite her sharp instincts, she didn’t detect the strangeness of the situation.

Finally, Luke realized something was wrong.

“Wait, something isn’t right. Have you noticed anything odd?” he asked.

Catherine, while slashing through another undead and turning it to ash, replied briefly, “It does seem strange. By now, we should be feeling tired.”

The moment Catherine finished speaking, the swarm of undead suddenly disappeared.

“It’s an illusion,” Luke concluded.

Before he could elaborate, the undead reappeared, shambling toward them from all directions.

Not wanting to take chances, Luke quickly reapplied resin to their weapons, and they resumed their battle.

After a while, the undead vanished again.

“This is ridiculous,” Luke muttered. “If you really send this many undead at us, we’d be dead from exhaustion.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Catherine said grimly. “I can’t explain it, but I have a bad feeling.”

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked with concern.

“Be careful,” Catherine said tersely as the seemingly endless illusion of undead reappeared.

This cycle repeated five times, and the trio began to show signs of mental exhaustion.

As the undead swarmed them once more, they had no choice but to muster their strength and fight back. However, something felt different this time. When Luna’s sword collided with an undead, it nearly knocked her off balance.

“This is bad—they’re real this time!” Catherine shouted as she steadied Luna, shielding her from the onslaught.

Luke couldn’t help but regret. If only he had brought Tom and Jerry along with them. Even he was beginning to feel the strain, and Luna and Catherine, being just children, were struggling even more.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hold on much longer,” Luna said dejectedly.

“Don’t lose heart, Luna,” Catherine whispered reassuringly, though her own outlook was grim.

Reaching for her wand, Catherine tried to cast a fiendfyre spell, only to discover she couldn’t connect to her magic. It was as if an invisible web had severed her link to it.

“I… I can’t cast spells anymore!” she exclaimed in disbelief.

“It’s the magic strands,” Luke deduced. “Whoever is behind this illusion has used them to cut off our connection to magic.”

Testing his own abilities, Luke found he could only perform basic spells like Accio Sword and Aguamenti.

While racking his brain for a solution, Catherine suddenly spoke softly. “Luke… there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” he asked.

“I’m afraid if I don’t say it now, I won’t have another chance,” she replied, gazing at the approaching horde of undead with despair.

A mage without magic was like a bird without wings.

Blocking a lunging undead from Luna, Catherine muttered under her breath, “If only we could get rid of these damned magic strands… I can’t tell if this is a Ministry restriction or a demon’s curse…”

“What did you just say?” Luke asked sharply.

“I said if only we could get rid of the strands… Watch out!” Catherine shouted as her sword pierced through another undead.

“No, the part after that,” Luke pressed.

“Whether it’s a Ministry restriction or a demon’s curse…”

In that moment, Luke had a revelation. “Cathy, give me ten seconds. Can you hold them off for that long?”

“Got it.” Catherine’s resolve hardened. She gritted her teeth and, with Luna, positioned herself to shield Luke.

The stakes were higher than ever.

At that critical moment, the flames on their swords flickered and went out.

“The fire… it’s gone,” Luna’s ethereal voice quivered with despair.

An undead grabbed Luna’s sword, attempting to wrest it away. Just as she was about to lose her grip, Catherine thrust her sword into the undead’s chest. The creature released Luna’s weapon, stumbled back, and erupted in blue-white lightning arcs. The electric charge spread across its body, reducing it to ashes.

The spiritual sword carried lightning damage, a force even more effective than fire against such foes.

But three more undead staggered toward them.

Catherine dispatched the one lunging at Luna, but the claws of the other two were already inches from her.

“No!” Luna cried, summoning her last bit of strength to swing her dark blade at one of the undead. The blow barely staggered it.

Regret flashed in Catherine’s mind as she realized she couldn’t raise her sword in time. The undead’s claws reached for her—

When, suddenly, a holy light burst forth, enveloping the trio and the two undead. Without even a final cry, the undead dissolved into nothingness.

Wisps of black mist seeped out of Catherine and Luke, dissipating into the light.

The familiar sensation returned.

Catherine drew her wand, unleashing a torrent of fiendfyre that incinerated every undead within sight.

“You know, Cathy, you look pretty awesome right now,” Luke said, his gaze dazed.

It was about time he learned some AOE spells. Single-target attacks were just too inefficient, he thought grimly.

“Oh, really?” Catherine chuckled. The exhilaration of regaining her magic was palpable. A fiery serpent conjured by her fiendfyre spell roared triumphantly as it coiled in the air, mirroring her jubilant mood.

Meanwhile, the crimson barrier encasing them shattered entirely, revealing a bright blue sky and warm sunlight. The three survivors breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“What an unusual adventure,” Luna mused.

“Indeed,” Luke agreed.

Declining their invitation to rest together, Luna took her leave after a brief respite, skipping happily home.

“What a lively girl,” Catherine remarked fondly, watching her go.

“Let’s head back too,” Luke suggested.

None of them questioned the origin or purpose of the illusion, nor why it had ended so abruptly.

Perhaps this abnormality was deliberately orchestrated by someone in the shadows.

Back at home, Catherine went upstairs to retrieve the Cain Diaries, while Luke glanced around curiously. “Cathy, wasn’t that table broken when my ‘unbreakable’ ribs smashed into it? When did you fix it?”

“You? Unbreakable?” Catherine scoffed under her breath before frowning. “I don’t remember tidying up. I was busy dealing with your mess…”

Luke felt a sudden chill. “Damn it, we’re still in the illusion… and Luna’s in danger!”

(To be continued)

Chapter 88: Master, Luke Asked Me to Pass You a Message

When he rushed to the door, he discovered it was firmly shut, as though someone had locked it from the outside.

Looking out the window, he noticed the scene had turned blood-red without him realizing it. The oppressive, sinister emotions surged once again.

“Since this is an illusion, there must be a way to break it,” Luke said, considering a potential solution. “Think carefully—do you have anything unusual in your house?”

“Unusual?” Catherine was stunned.

“For example, this table... Normally, it should appear damaged,” Luke said as he slashed the table with his sword. Something strange happened—it didn’t break but instead slowly faded away, disappearing entirely from their sight.

“Apparently not that,” Luke muttered in frustration, though his frustration quickly gave way to something else.

Catherine’s entire body was suddenly engulfed in intense flames. Her golden hair flowed like a cascading inferno, while ghostly green fire serpents emerged behind her, illuminating the dim space. Her proud and strikingly beautiful face now carried an air of dangerous allure.

The flames swept across the house, reducing it to ashes. The illusion could no longer hold and crumbled with a deafening crash.

Catherine’s dress billowed in the fiery wind, the sound of the fabric snapping against the air. A smile tugged at her lips, and her commanding aura as the queen of Slytherin shone through unmistakably. Group spells really are magnificent! They’re just so...

...Destructive.

Luke had a complicated expression. *This woman’s efficiency at destroying things is unreal,* he thought.

The fiery serpents that had just wrecked the house now coiled obediently around Catherine. One’s tail wrapped around her long, slender legs, its body encircling her waist and abdomen. The area around her chest was left conspicuously uncovered, making the already prominent curves even more noticeable. The massive snake heads rubbed against Catherine’s cheeks from either side, and she rewarded them with a gentle pat.

Luke stared, slack-jawed. He didn’t know where to look and couldn’t help but envy those fire snakes. Left with no better option, he alternated between glancing left and right before settling on watching the flames.

“Cathy, put away the spell, please...” Luke said, feeling a dangerous gaze emanating from the flames. He sensed he might truly be in danger if he stared any longer and quickly called out to Catherine.

Catherine snorted softly before dismissing the two fiery snakes.

Not far from them, Luna lay quietly beneath a tree.

Gradually, a cold and foreboding aura began to spread.

Black-robed creatures started descending slowly from the sky, floating toward Luna.

“Dementors!” Luke recognized them immediately.

“The guards of Azkaban? What are they doing here?” Catherine was startled by the appearance of Dementors but quickly pieced it together. *A few Dementors under a demon lord’s command? Totally makes sense—hellish demons, undead minions, a couple of Dementors... all pretty standard fare.*

“What should we do? I don’t know how to cast a Patronus Charm,” Luke said, feeling stuck.

“Actually, the Fiendfyre Curse is also an effective way to deal with Dementors,” Catherine replied. As she spoke, the two fiery snakes emerged once more, tearing the Dementors to shreds.

Meanwhile, Luna, who had been lying beneath the tree, slowly opened her eyes.

When she saw Luke and Catherine approaching, Luna lifted her head.

“Luke, Catherine, why are you here?” Luna’s voice was a little dazed, as though she had just woken up.

“I should be asking you that—why are you lying here in broad daylight?” Luke pointed at the blazing sun overhead.

“I don’t know. When I woke up, I was already lying here,” Luna replied, staring intently into Luke’s eyes.

“You’re not selling that Prophet newspaper of yours anymore?” Luke suddenly asked.

“My papers are all gone. I need to go home and get mo—” Before Luna could finish, Luke drove his sword through her chest.

The wounded “Luna” remained calm, her eerie eyes locking on Luke. With a hint of curiosity, she asked, “Can you tell me? How did you see through me?”

Luke chuckled coldly, his tone laced with mockery and regret. “It was your eyes. If it weren’t for that, I might have believed you. Honestly, you should practice more—it’s hard to fake being a fool.”

The “Luna” smirked. “Is that so? You’ve inherited your mother’s cleverness, clearly. But she must never have warned you that while being smart is good, relying too much on your wits can sometimes backfire.”

When she finished speaking, her body tensed.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

“What a pity. I actually think being clever is a good thing. After all, I’m not a parasite like you, relying on a big brother who specializes in taking in trash.”

Luke sneered, his sarcasm cutting like a blade.

“What did you do to me?”

“I’ve been preparing for this moment for six months,” Luke crouched down, looking at her with a mix of pity and mockery. “Surprised? Didn’t see this coming, did you?”

Ever since Dumbledore told him about it, he had been researching relevant texts. In Merlin’s journal, he had discovered a specific charm—a spell designed to counter demons, making them extremely weak and unable to hide.

He engraved this charm onto a crystal sword, precisely for a day like today.

“I really underestimated you,” the demon remarked, still unfazed by her predicament. After all, even if demons perished, they simply returned to hell.

Granted, thanks to Luke’s mother stirring things up, her true form was now trapped in hell. But as long as she couldn’t die, there was still reason to celebrate.

“You should understand one thing,” Luke said with a crude expression, his face completely calm. “An a**hole isn’t the same as an eye.” The pun was crude yet effective since the words sounded similar in English.

“Keep talking big, kid,” the demon replied calmly. “I forgot to mention—your little girlfriend’s Fiendfyre can’t harm me at all.”

“You hear that, Casey?” Luke turned back and teased. “Maybe you should stop playing with fire and try learning something else.”

Catherine huffed but didn’t argue.

“Playing with fire will make you wet the bed. I’d hate to get swept all the way across the ocean one day.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Catherine kicked him.

“Now, tell me your true name,” Luke said, patting the demon on the shoulder.

“You don’t actually think I’ll tell you, do you?” Her sarcastic smirk was maddening, especially when it wore Luna’s innocent and pure face.

That mix of naïveté and mockery was almost too much to bear.

“I still haven’t held you accountable for trying to sow discord between us earlier,” Luke said, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t mind roughing you up to vent some anger.”

“I wouldn’t suggest using me as your punching bag, Mr. Mountbatten,” the demon replied calmly, trying to stir the pot. “You know, if there weren’t any grievances between the two of you, no amount of my meddling would make a difference.”

“Maybe right now, your little companion is secretly badmouthing you in her mind.”

“Of course, that’s just a guess. I could be wrong,” the demon added, her tone as irritating as ever.

“Calling you a fool would be an understatement. Do you think anyone would fall for the same trick twice?”

“Well, you never know unless you try,” the demon replied.

Luke smirked coldly. “Tell me, what’s the identity of the blue-eyed demon?”

“You think I’ll tell you?”

“Well, you never know unless you try,” Luke shrugged, throwing her words right back at her.

“Since you won’t talk, you’ve lost your last bit of usefulness.”

“Don’t be hasty. We were having such a nice chat just now. Honestly, ever since Quirrell died, I thought you two had potential. Why not pledge loyalty to the great Lord Satan?”

“I have no interest in chit-chatting with maggots from the gutter like you,” Luke sneered. “Hell’s road is bumpy—do me a favor and pass on a message to your master.”

“I don’t care what kind of mutt those blue eyes belong to, but tell him it’d be best not to appear before me. Otherwise… I’ll break all five of his limbs and soak him in a cesspit. Got it?”

With that, Luke pressed his palm onto the freshly drawn banishment sigil.

“Next time, you won’t be so lucky, *Schutzpahver!*”

The demon, now exposed by her true name, howled in pain under the spell’s effect. Finally, she dissolved into specks of starlight.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 89: Let Me Touch Your Legs*

The illusion shattered once more as the demon was banished to hell, this time for good, since the instigator had been exiled.

Luke saw Luna standing under a tree, gazing upward.

"Luna? What are you doing here?" Luke asked.

"Oh... nothing. Just thinking about what to eat tonight."

"Eat what?"

"Honey cake. Want some?" Luna turned her head, smiling sweetly.

Why mention honey? Luke looked up to see a beehive hanging from the tree.

Luna's forehead was red, swollen with a large welt from a sting.

"Tell me, why do bees work so hard to collect honey?" Her voice was ethereal, like a spring brook.

"I don’t know what bees want, but no one understands seagulls better than me," Luke replied, referencing a lifelong grievance.

"Oh?" Luna was intrigued. "Then can you tell me why seagulls fly around endlessly?"

"To grab some fries at the dock later." Luke spoke with certainty, recalling the seagulls that snatched his fries last year, his eyes growing misty.

"Is that their destiny?" Luna's tone turned mystical.

"Ever thought about studying divination under Sybill Trelawney?"

Katherine chimed in with her high emotional intelligence.

In plainer words, she meant: "You’re acting as eccentric as Trelawney."

Luna let out a cute humph and hopped away like a little rabbit.

Worried, the two followed her to make sure she got home safely.

The three walking together resembled a family taking their child for a stroll—though the "father" looked a bit young.

After politely declining Mr. Lovegood's invitation to dinner, Luke and Katherine returned to her home.

The moment they entered, the wreckage of the living room table was impossible to ignore.

Katherine touched Luke’s ribs gently, quickly retracting her hand, and asked cautiously, "Does it... still hurt?"

"It stopped hurting ages ago. You were pretty ruthless, though, I’ll give you that," Luke shrugged, striking a bodybuilder pose to show he was fine.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I..." Katherine's eyes reddened.

"It’s not your fault. The enemy was too cunning," Luke said with a dismissive snort, pulling Katherine to the sofa. In a soothing tone, he continued, "Don’t dwell on what Schuzpuff said at the end. No two people can always get along perfectly. Spending time together is bound to lead to some friction."

"But..."

"No buts, Katie." Luke held her delicate hand and gently consoled her. "The fact that demons could manipulate us means we weren’t strong enough. If we don’t want this to happen again, we need to strengthen not just our abilities, but also our hearts."

"Okay." Katherine nodded, staring at Luke for a moment before suddenly throwing her arms around him.

In his arms was her warm, soft figure, and the scent of her hair filled his nose. But Luke didn’t feel a hint of impropriety. He embraced Katherine in return, savoring the rare moment of peace.

"Luke, I’m really, really afraid of losing you..." Katherine’s voice trembled as she whispered in his ear.

The usually proud Slytherin queen now seemed like an ordinary girl, using a tender plea to express her unease.

"It’s okay, it’s all over now." Luke gently stroked her back, his voice full of comfort.

"I..." Katherine choked up.

"Alright, Katie." Luke tried to lighten the mood, worried she might stay stuck in her guilt. "If you really feel bad... how about letting me touch your legs?"

He felt her freeze for a moment before she replied, "Okay."

The word was brief, but Luke could hear the shyness in her voice.

He froze, too, quickly realizing what had happened.

Wait, I was just joking to cheer her up! Really, just joking! Why did she agree?

Shouldn’t she have yelled at me to get lost and stomped on my foot?

Where’s your pride? Your dignity?

Luke was panicking a little.

Meanwhile, Katherine sat upright, swung her long legs onto the armrest of the sofa, and said, "Go ahead."

"Uh... if I really do this, you won’t hit me, right?"

Luke nervously reached out, only to feel his palms start sweating before he even touched her.

He quickly withdrew his hand, wiping it awkwardly on his pants, and gave her an embarrassed smile.

"Maybe you could put on some socks first? My palms are all sweaty right now..."

Katherine let out an indifferent hum, unusually accommodating.

She stood up, went upstairs, and grabbed a pair of white thigh-high socks from her wardrobe. Just as she was about to put them on, an idea struck her. Her face turned red as she clutched the socks and headed back downstairs.

Oh well, consider this a little reward for him.

Katherine thought with a hint of pride.

Downstairs, Luke sat uneasily on the sofa, waiting for her. Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Katherine with her hands behind her back and bare legs.

So it was all in my head earlier, Luke thought.

"Katie..." Luke started, but Katherine interrupted him.

"Ahem... you wanted to touch my legs, and I agreed. But on one condition: from now on, you have to listen to everything I say."

"Now, sit still on the sofa. Don’t move or speak."

Alright then, please begin your perfo—Luke’s internal sarcasm was cut short by what he saw next.

Katherine stood before him, raised one leg, and placed her delicate foot on the leather sofa cushion, her round toes leaving an adorable indent.

From behind her back, she brought the socks forward and set them aside.

She picked up one and slowly began putting it on. The silky white material stretched, turning semi-sheer as it hugged her leg snugly, leaving a soft indentation at her thigh.

The pleats of her skirt hid anything more from Luke’s gaze, but it only fueled his imagination.

Can I even witness this kind of thing at my age? Luke felt his nose heating up and quickly inhaled deeply to prevent a nosebleed.

By the time Katherine finished putting on both socks, she didn’t bother with shoes. Instead, she climbed onto the sofa and rested her legs on Luke’s lap.

"Go ahead," she said, crossing her arms and tapping his arm with her left foot to prompt him, her tone composed.

But the ears hidden beneath her golden hair had turned bright red.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 90: A Kitchen Romance*

Luke flexed his fingers nervously, his eyebrows furrowing like two wiggly caterpillars. He took a deep breath and cautiously asked, “So... I really did touch it?”

“Yep.” Catherine nodded affirmatively.

Luke quickly switched to a façade of seriousness, sitting upright on the couch and staring at the blank wall ahead as if he were Snape at a Death Eater gathering.

Seeing through his nervousness and awkwardness, Catherine’s lips curled into a teasing smile. She leaned closer, her tone deliberately laced with a hint of seduction. “Didn’t you say you weren’t scared earlier? Why the hesitation now?”

This woman was simply too skilled at this. The faintly sweet scent of her breath tickled Luke’s ears, making them itch, while his insides churned with unease.

Refusing to admit his nervousness, he puffed up his chest, clenched his right hand into a fist, and pointed to himself confidently. “You’ve got to be kidding! I’m super brave!”

With that declaration, he placed his hands on Catherine’s thighs. At first, he felt the smooth fabric of her skirt, then the warmth of her skin beneath. Although it was a pleasant human temperature, it felt as though his palms had just touched something scorching.

What a rookie mistake, Luke!

“What should we eat tonight? Mom might be home late today, so I’ll cook for you,” Catherine said casually, her tone carrying a hint of mischief.

But Luke completely missed the undertone, still maintaining his gentlemanly composure. “I’m fine with anything,” he replied nonchalantly.

This brief exchange helped Luke gather himself. Determined, he decided to give her thigh a proper touch. However, he underestimated the slippery fabric, and his hand fumbled, causing him to accidentally squeeze the soft flesh of her thigh.

The sensation was divine—soft and plush, filling the spaces between his fingers. Before he could stop himself, Luke gave it a couple more experimental squeezes.

Catherine stiffened slightly, a tingling sensation spreading from the spot where his hand lingered. It coursed through her body, making her lips tighten as she involuntarily clamped her thighs together. Her toes, encased in white stockings, curled slightly and brushed against Luke’s leg.

When Luke glanced up at her, he saw Catherine lounging on the sofa, casually flipping through a cookbook on Italian cuisine. She seemed oblivious to his little indiscretions.

Relieved, Luke decided to play it safe. Instead of groping, he started massaging her legs, running his hands from her thighs to her calves.

It became apparent that Catherine could rock white stockings like no other.

The stockings, which could emphasize even the smallest imperfections, were flawless on Catherine’s legs. Her already perfect proportions were elevated to an almost ethereal level.

“I feel like having some pudding, Cathy,” Luke blurted without thinking.

Catherine pulled her legs away from his grasp, stood up, and swiftly retreated to the kitchen. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it with her hand over her racing heart, trying to steady her breathing.

Meanwhile, Luke sat there in a daze, his hands still frozen midair as if savoring the memory of the pudding-like softness.

After a while, Luke decided to lend a hand in the kitchen, but Catherine chased him out with a wooden spoon.

The wait was agonizing, especially since he had only eaten a croissant in the morning before heading out with his red-haired friends. His stomach grumbled loudly as he lounged on the couch, watching Catherine busy herself in the kitchen.

The earlier “incident” had somehow made him hungrier.

Even if Catherine’s cooking skills rivaled those of a disaster chef, Luke figured his hunger would make anything palatable.

Fortunately, Catherine called him to the table before his hunger-induced dizziness worsened.

Luke bolted upright and dashed into the kitchen faster than lightning.

The table was set with an impressive array of dishes. The aroma was mouthwatering, and the food looked as good as it smelled.

Luke realized he had underestimated Catherine. She wasn’t the kind of woman who turned fried eggs into unidentifiable black matter.

He gave her another mental checkmark: not only could she grace the drawing room, but she also dominated the kitchen.

Luke plopped down into a chair but was immediately reprimanded.

“Wash your hands first,” Catherine reminded him.

“Oh.” Luke obediently got up, washed his hands, and returned to his seat.

“Try it. It’s probably not that good, but bear with it,” Catherine said haughtily, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She clasped her hands behind her back, nervously clenching her fists.

Luke picked up a piece of stewed tripe in red sauce and popped it into his mouth. The tender tripe practically melted as an explosion of flavors filled his senses.

It was delicious—so good that the last time he’d had tripe this amazing was… well, never.

Scratch that—maybe at his aunt’s house.

Catherine’s cooking was nothing short of masterful.

Luke couldn’t help but wonder how someone could be so talented, excelling in everything she did. It was as if she were Heaven’s favorite daughter, blessed with all the world’s beauty and skills.

He silently patted himself on the back for landing such an extraordinary woman.

Looking up, Luke gave her a big thumbs-up.

“This is amazing, Cathy. You’re better than the royal chefs!” he praised earnestly.

Catherine’s lips curled into a smug smile. “Sweet talker,” she muttered, though her heart fluttered with happiness. Compliments from someone special meant the world.

The meal left Luke completely stuffed. Slumping back in his chair, he sighed, “Cathy, you can’t cook anymore…”

“Why not?” Catherine’s voice turned cold in an instant.

Was mood-swapping a natural talent for women?

Luke scratched his head awkwardly. “Your cooking’s too good. If I eat like this every day, I’ll get fat and never find a girlfriend.”

Of course, this was nonsense. With his decent looks, family fortune, and connections, Luke wasn’t worried about his dating prospects.

Catherine snorted. “Then I’ll cook for you every day and make sure you get so fat no one else wants you!”

“And what if I really end up unwanted?” Luke teased.

“Even then, someone will stick by your side,” Catherine said softly, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Who?” Luke asked cluelessly.

“I’m washing the dishes!” Catherine snapped, shooing him out of the kitchen.

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a shy smile.

(End of Chapter)