Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Lucas tore a piece of seasoned meat from the bone and slipped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched the flickering lanternlight dance across the polished wooden walls of the inn. The warmth from the mug of ale in his hand mingled with the rising noise of conversation as the room gradually returned to its earlier rhythm. Moments ago, she had stolen everyone's attention. Now, things had begun to settle, and the raucous energy of the alchemists was returning, little by little.

He remained still, sipping his drink now and then, not so much because he was thirsty, but because it gave him a reason to sit quietly and observe. There was no need to speak, no need to prove anything.

But once again, the atmosphere shifted.

He felt it before he even saw her, another subtle hush that spread from the hearth to the farthest corner. The woman had returned, descending the stairway in slow, graceful steps.

This time, however, she wasn't simply passing through.

She began to speak, briefly, pleasantly. Introducing herself to the seated alchemists, one table at a time. Not with haughty arrogance, but with an assured elegance. She didn't try to impress; she didn't need to. Wherever she went, their eyes followed, and their tones shifted from lighthearted to respectful, even a touch desperate. Some stood as she approached. Others cleared their throats and straightened their robes like fumbling schoolboys meeting a revered tutor for the first time.

Lucas took another bite, his expression unreadable. His cup was nearly empty now, but he didn't signal for another. He had just decided to rise and retire to his room when he noticed her movement shift.

She was walking toward him.

He blinked, not in surprise, but in mild amusement. She was coming directly to his table. No detour, no pause.

She stopped just before him.

Her presence was intoxicating up close, like a rare and ancient incense that clung to the senses. Her eyes, lined with a faint kohl that accentuated their tilt, glanced over him with curiosity rather than judgment. She tilted her head slightly and spoke, her voice smooth and clear.

"Who did you come with?" she asked politely. "A master, perhaps? An elder from the capital? Or are you just here to watch like many others?"

Lucas looked up at her, and for a moment, he said nothing. He took his time to swallow the last piece of meat, then dabbed his lips with the napkin folded on the table beside his plate.

"I didn't come with anyone," he replied calmly, his voice steady and firm. "I'm here as an Alchemist."

The woman blinked. She didn't respond at once. Then, after a beat, her lips curled in a smile, graceful, warm, and amused.

"You make a convincing joke," she said with a small laugh, her hand lightly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

But Lucas didn't smile.

He didn't laugh.

He didn't say anything at all.

His gaze held hers, unwavering, unflinching. And then, as the seconds ticked by, her demeanour shifted. Her smile faded, not entirely, but just enough. The humor drained from her eyes as she began to register the unyielding seriousness in his expression.

And then she spoke again, more slowly this time.

"No," she said, frowning slightly. "No, no… that can't be. You're too young. You're just a boy."

Her voice was louder now, touched with disbelief, and that was all it took for heads to turn to their direction.

Conversations halted.

Several of the alchemists, already half-drunk and boastful from earlier rounds of rum, turned their chairs to face the scene. Curious eyes settled on Lucas now, the boy who had gone unnoticed, the one they had ignored until this very moment. The woman's words had pierced through the fog of assumption and comfort. Suddenly, everyone wanted to see for themselves.

Who was this boy?

Lucas didn't flinch, but deep down, a dull irritation stirred in his chest. He hadn't come here to be the center of attention, and he certainly hadn't asked for anyone's opinion. Yet now, thanks to the woman's disbelief and the tone in her voice, the entire inn had turned its collective gaze on him. A dozen or more alchemists, dressed in extravagant robes that hinted at noble affiliations, were all staring at him like he had just claimed to be the Emperor's secret son.

The laughter started off as a few chuckles, dry, disbelieving, amused...but it grew louder, bolder, and eventually rolled through the hall in waves. Some of them turned to their neighbors to whisper, while others pointed toward Lucas outright, their faces contorted with scornful amusement.

One man, with a drooping mustache and the sour breath of someone too deep into his ale, barked out, "Boy, do you even know the difference between a heat crystal and a beast core? Or are you here to polish cauldrons and serve drinks?"

Another, dressed in a navy-blue robe with gold threading, leaned back in his chair with an arrogant sneer. "He probably read a few scrolls and thinks himself a prodigy. Typical of court-born brats."

Lucas said nothing. His hand rested lightly on the table, fingers curled loosely around the handle of his mug. His gaze drifted past them without interest. He had endured worse before his second life began. Their words did not wound him, they only revealed their ignorance.

But while the room rang with laughter, the woman who had confronted him did not laugh.

She didn't echo their amusement or shrink away in embarrassment. Instead, she turned her head slowly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulder like a silken curtain, and let her gaze travel across the room with measured stillness. The alchemists who met her eyes quickly looked away, and those who were too bold to flinch found their grins faltering when they realized she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Enough," she said, her voice quiet, but firm enough to carry. "You lot talk so much for people who've yet to do anything impressive in this life."

The room grew quiet again, though this time the silence came with an edge.

She turned back toward Lucas. Without asking, she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, her movements smooth and unhurried. She rested her hands on the table between them, long fingers laced together as she leaned slightly forward, studying him with renewed interest.

The mockery hadn't shaken him. That alone was enough to keep her curious.

Lucas, for his part, did not offer thanks or small talk. He simply nodded once and took another sip of ale, acknowledging her presence as one might acknowledge a gentle breeze. There was no hunger in his gaze, no boyish fidgeting or flustered blinks. It was that same quiet, controlled demeanor that had unnerved her earlier. He wasn't pretending, he simply didn't care for the noise.

Around the room, envious gazes began to sharpen like daggers.

It wasn't just the disbelief now, it was resentment. There were older men in that room, men who had studied for decades, who had earned titles and worn the burn scars of cauldron explosions like medals of honor. And yet, none of them had received so much as a passing glance from the woman who now sat, uninvited but comfortable, at the table of a boy they had dismissed as a joke.

To them, it was an insult.

To Lucas, it was simply a nuisance.

He set his mug down and met the woman's eyes fully now, not with arrogance, but with clarity. She had brought the attention to him, and now she had anchored it further. Whether or not she meant to, he would deal with the consequence either way.

He hadn't come here to prove himself. But if they insisted on underestimating him, then the burden of surprise would be theirs alone to bear.