Three days had passed since Luke had been staying in Bastion. Most people in his position would have felt like prisoners, kept under polite surveillance by a political alliance between two noble houses. But Luke? He felt like he’d died and gone to paradise.

No cooking. No heating water for baths. No checking corners for assassins. No schedules, no missions, no stress. The progress of the tutorial? Not his problem. A new gang of criminals forming outside? Not his concern. Food supplies running low? Someone else’s headache.

Guarding treasure chests, drawing maps, sleeping on cold stone floors, worrying about ambushes or betrayal, none of it mattered anymore. Luke was free. The maids handled everything. And as a bonus, he had his own personal attendant: beautiful, silent, efficient, and terrifyingly strong.

The doll who looked like Erza’s twin never left his side. She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t tire. Always ready, always precise.

In his endless free time, which frankly was twenty-four hours a day, Luke had fallen back into one of his old habits: archery practice.

“Very good… hit… again…” said the soft, almost musical voice of Erza’s twin sister.

Luke stood in one of the fortress’s training rooms, lowering his bow after another perfect shot.

“Thanks, Anne. You’re the best audience I’ve ever had.”

That was her name, Anne, the doll sister of Erza Grimhart.

Luke stored his bow away in his inventory.

“Would you… like… water?” she asked, already pouring him a cup.

“Yes, thanks,” he said, accepting it.

As he drank, his focus drifted elsewhere, not to the room around him, but to another nearby. In his mind, he could see a meeting taking place: Allison, Erza, and one of the maids were gathered around a table, discussing the final mission and its six-hour countdown.

He was using his Rank skill on the maid.

[Soul Infiltration (Rank F)]: Your dense, assassin nature has given rise to this power. You can infiltrate a fragment of your soul into a target’s body. While infiltrated, you can see and hear everything they see and hear. Perfect for espionage, lethal for assassinations. However, the link breaks if your body moves too far from the target. Use with care… and purpose.

The training room was close enough to the council chamber that the connection stayed stable.

“I think we should hold a vote,” said Allison. “Everyone in the Safe Zone deserves a choice, to go or not to go on the final mission.”

Erza’s laughter was sharp, cold. “My responsibilities as priestess have changed, Allison. I must return to Earth. I’m not here to enforce democracy. I am the regent. I need fifty-one percent of the population to trigger the final event. If I have to kill everyone who refuses to go just to reach that fifty-one percent, I will.”

Luke ended the skill. Things were clearly spiraling toward chaos, but honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was on vacation. That was someone else’s problem now.

“I was used as a bargaining chip, Anne,” he said, reclining in the chair. “So I might as well be a good one. I’ll sit here quietly and enjoy my rest.”

The maid collected his empty cup.

“I will… be here… for… whatever… you need,” she murmured, returning to her usual place by the wall.

“You’re a great employee. Got a résumé? If I ever make it back home, maybe I’ll hire you for my shop.”

Anne tilted her head, visibly confused.

“Don’t worry about it. Just me talking nonsense again.”

Luke reopened his skill. A faint sound echoed in his mind, meow. His spectral cat materialized, translucent and faint, padding toward the wall. It walked straight into it with a soft thud. Over the past few days, Luke had been experimenting with his Rank Skill, pushing its limits. He was beginning to understand how it worked. The spirit cat couldn’t travel far and was still limited by physical barriers, even though it was invisible and undetectable by soul perception.

He’d tested it himself: when he used the Predator’s Mark on a maid, it deactivated instantly. But the soul cat, no one could sense it. Not even him, once it slipped too far away.

That, at least, made it the perfect spy. By studying his skill more carefully, Luke began to understand how it actually worked. A marking skill left its trace on the outer layer of the soul, like someone taping a “kick me” sign to your back. With the right understanding of mana, that mark could be peeled away from the surface.

But the soul cat from his Rank skill didn’t touch the outer layer. It slipped inside. That was why it was invisible, undetectable to any normal perception. He suspected, though, that it wouldn’t work on beings too powerful, those with souls fortified by their vast comprehension of mana. The more someone understood, the thicker the armor around their essence. It might fail entirely against such targets… or maybe, as Luke grew stronger, the skill would evolve to match them.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Either way, he kept testing its limits, using it to quietly scout around the fortress. As a cat, he couldn’t see much, just darkness, and the glowing shapes of souls drifting through it. The range wasn’t great, but when the cat jumped into someone’s soul, the reach extended. That meant he could safely infiltrate others from a distance.

He’d used it while eating, training, even during breakfast, slipping in and out of a few maids at a time, purely for observation, of course. The skill drained mana steadily, and Luke had drawn a clear moral line: if the maid entered the bath or bathroom, he shut the skill off immediately. He wasn’t about to use his gift to peep on someone in private.

“Lord Luke,” said the doll softly. “Healing… session.”

“Oh, right.”

He rose from the chair. Somehow, she always knew the exact time. Every day, Luke visited the infirmary for a quick round of healing. One of the healer maids would restore exactly 500 HP and stop. He’d found it odd, but he wasn’t complaining.

As they walked down the marble corridor, a few maids paused to bow.

“Good afternoon, Lord Luke,” they said before continuing their duties.

At first, the gesture had made him uncomfortable. Now, he’d gotten used to it.

“It’s funny how fast we get used to nice things, huh, Anne?”

“I suppose so… Lord Luke,” she answered, her voice quiet as ever.

In the Haven, people had looked at him with suspicion or outright hate. Some wanted him dead. Would he have trusted their food? Not a chance. Would anyone there heat his bathwater? No. Make his bed? No. Ask what dessert he liked and prepare it? Definitely not.

So why would he ever want to go back?

He wasn’t being unfair, they had forgiven him. But that was only after he’d gone through hell to capture a fortress, trek to the capital, save them again and again, kill Bartholomew, and survive everything in between. He wasn’t the type to toast to friendship after that. Luke wasn’t greedy or power-hungry, but five minutes in a fortress full of competent maids had already won him over. If the Haven wanted him back, they’d better work for it.

Living here really was paradise. Honestly? He was starting to agree with Bartholomew, maybe Earth wasn’t worth going back to.

‘I’m ninety percent sure that’s just your maid fetish talking,’ Artemis said dryly in his mind.

It’s a joke, he thought back. Probably.

When they reached the infirmary, Luke stopped for a moment. There was someone there he hadn’t seen in days.

“Ronan? You’re alive?”

Ronan looked up from the clipboard in his hands, a little pale but smiling. “Yeah, didn’t die. Took some work getting all my organs to start cooperating again, but thankfully this place has plenty of healers.”

He leaned back with a smirk. “You realize we’re the only men in this entire fortress, right? Honestly, humanity should’ve put women in charge a long time ago. Everything runs smoother, and I don’t have to lift a damn finger.”

Ronan gave Luke a strange look. For some reason, Luke could tell the man wasn’t entirely comfortable around him, but given their history, that was understandable.

“I came to talk to you. Do you still have those mine maps from the capital?” Ronan asked.

Luke had charted plenty of interesting places during his time there. “Of course,” he said, pulling a few folded papers from his storage item and handing them over.

“There are a lot of maps here. What’s what?” Ronan asked, squinting at the pages.

Luke turned to his ever-present companion. “Anne, should I waste time explaining all this, or is my official duty still to relax?”

“Lord Luke… should… relax,” the maid murmured softly.

“You heard her,” Luke said, clapping Ronan on the shoulder. “I’m just a poor, mistreated prisoner.” He stretched his arms dramatically before dropping onto a cot and lounging like he owned the place.

Ronan exhaled through his nose. “Fine… I’ll figure it out myself,” he muttered, then left.

Only Luke and the porcelain maid remained in the infirmary.

“The healer… is busy,” Anne said quietly.

“Busy?” Luke asked, sitting up.

Anne pulled a chair over and sat beside him.

“I should probably go then,” he said, starting to stand, but she shook her head.

“Special treatment… only today,” she whispered, placing a hand gently on his chest.

A faint green light pulsed from her palm, and Luke felt warmth flood through him as his HP began to rise. His eyes widened.

“You can heal? I thought your class was assassin.”

“Sister… assassin. I… healer,” she replied. Then she lifted a finger to his lips, her voice barely above a breath. “Keep… this… secret.”

An assassin and a healer. Not a bad combo.

Luke leaned back again, pretending to relax, though his mind was racing. He had no intention of spending the rest of his time here like a pampered noble. He was already planning his escape.

The balcony was a no-go; there was always a maid stationed in the watchtower, her gaze fixed squarely on his window. Every twelve hours, she was replaced by another. Even if he somehow slipped past her and jumped, there was still the outer wall, and while Luke could scale it easily, the porcelain maid shadowed him every hour of the day. If he made a break for it, she’d follow.

And considering how confident Erza Grimhart seemed in leaving only that sister to guard him, Luke had no doubt she could capture him again. Maybe that was why they never restored his HP to full, just in case.

Still, his calm demeanor wasn’t entirely fake. Acting relaxed was part of the plan. If Anne believed he’d given up, she’d eventually lower her guard.

His real goal was to get back to the capital. There were unfinished matters there, rare herbs and materials he wanted to collect, and Charlie still needed to reach her Rank’s peak. But he couldn’t tell anyone that. As far as they were concerned, he had already reached the peak, and there was no reason for him to wander off anymore. He’d even overheard talk of forging a new bow for him.

The problem was Charlie. His “familiar” was unique. If anyone realized what she truly was, it would expose too much about his bloodline, something he wasn’t ready to risk.

“Lady Erza… wants you… fully healed today,” Anne said softly.

“Fully healed?” Luke asked.

She nodded. “Put on… good clothes. You are… dining… with her.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep