Chapter 62: Early Morning Routine
The first rays of dawn spilled into Lucian's room, casting a faint golden hue across the wooden floor. He sat up in bed, the soft creak of the mattress the only sound accompanying the quiet hum of morning. Quintin's snoring filled the room, rhythmic and surprisingly unobtrusive—a far cry from the chaos of the night before.
Lucian rubbed his eyes, his usual morning grimace softening as he glanced at the clock on the wall: 6:00 a.m. sharp. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. Careful not to disturb Quintin, he reached for his coat, throwing it over his shoulders before silently slipping out of the room and down the narrow staircase.
The air outside was crisp, carrying with it a faint hint of brine from the nearby coast. The cobblestone streets were damp with dew, reflecting the golden light of the rising sun. The city was waking up slowly, the market square stirring to life as vendors arranged their goods and the first murmurs of conversation filled the air.
Lucian made his way to the nearest stall, where the smell of freshly baked bread greeted him like an old friend. An elderly baker, her face wrinkled yet kind, caught his eye.
"Morning, traveler," she said warmly, gesturing to the array of loaves stacked neatly on display.
"Morning," Lucian replied with a curt nod, picking up a warm, crusty loaf. "How much?"
"Three pieces," she said, her smile never faltering.
Lucian handed over the coins without hesitation, tucking the loaf under his arm before moving on. The market was beginning to fill with more people now, and he wove through the growing crowd toward a fishmonger's stall. The pungent smell of the catch filled his nose, and his gaze settled on a neatly sliced tuna, its flesh vibrant and fresh.
"How much for the tuna?" he asked.
"Five pieces for a good cut," the fisherman replied, holding up a wrapped portion.
Lucian paid the man and secured the package, his supplies now complete. He made his way back to the house, his steps unhurried, the hum of the market fading as he returned to the quieter residential streets.
The house was silent when he entered, save for the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath his boots. He walked into the small kitchen, placing the bread and tuna on the counter before rolling up his sleeves. His movements were efficient and deliberate as he prepared breakfast.
He sliced the bread, its crust crunching under the knife, and layered it with fresh tuna, adding a light spread of butter. The aroma of the simple yet hearty sandwiches filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of the tea he had brewing.
As he plated the food and poured a steaming cup of tea, he paused, his gaze drifting upstairs. Seraphine. She had paid for most of the house. She deserved some acknowledgment, even if it wasn't something he was particularly inclined toward.
With a quiet sigh, Lucian prepared a second plate and cup of tea, arranging them carefully on a tray. He carried it upstairs, the steps creaking softly under his weight. Stopping at Seraphine's door, he knocked lightly.
"Come in," came her groggy voice from the other side.
Lucian pushed the door open to find her sitting up in bed, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She blinked at him, clearly not expecting a visitor so early.
"Figured you'd want something to eat," Lucian said, setting the tray down on her nightstand.
Seraphine stared at the neatly prepared breakfast, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You made this for me?"
"You paid for the house," he replied simply, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's the least I could do."
For a moment, Seraphine just looked at him, her lips twitching into a small smile as she reached for the tea. "Thanks, Lucian. I didn't expect this."
"Don't get used to it," he muttered, already turning to leave.
But as he stepped back into the hallway, her quiet words followed him. "I won't. But… it's appreciated."
Lucian paused for a beat before continuing down the stairs, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Downstairs, the house was already beginning to stir again, Quintin's snoring shifting into a loud yawn. Lucian sighed. So much for the peace.
By the time Quintin and Seraphine woke up at 8 am, Lucian had already cleaned the kitchen and was sitting at the table, sipping his own tea.
Quintin stumbled out of the shared room, his hair sticking out in all directions and his shirt half-buttoned. "Morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"Morning," Lucian replied curtly.
Quintin sniffed the air, his face lighting up. "Is that food I smell? Please tell me you made enough for me too."
"Nope," Lucian said flatly, not even looking up from his cup.
"Wait, what?" Quintin's face fell. "You made food and didn't think to include me?"
"I went to the market at six," Lucian replied. "If you wanted food, you should've woken up earlier."
Quintin groaned, flopping onto one of the chairs. "You're heartless, Lucian. Absolutely heartless."
Seraphine appeared next, looking far more composed as she walked into the kitchen. She carried her empty plate and cup from upstairs, setting them in the sink.
"Good morning," she greeted.
"Morning," Lucian replied.
Quintin pointed dramatically at her. "She gets breakfast in bed, but I get nothing?"
"She paid for the house," Lucian reminded him.
"Yeah, but I'm your roommate! That counts for something, doesn't it?"
"No," Lucian said bluntly.
Seraphine chuckled, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. "Maybe if you contributed a little more, you'd get some perks too."
Quintin huffed, crossing his arms. "I do contribute! I bring charm and wit to this group."
"More like chaos and headaches," Lucian muttered under his breath.
Quintin scowled, but before he could retort, Seraphine interjected. "Alright, let's not start the day with another argument. We've got things to do."
Quintin sighed, reluctantly getting up from his chair. "Fine. But I'm still upset about the lack of breakfast."
"You'll survive," Lucian said dryly.
Quintin mumbled something under his breath, but the trio soon moved on, preparing for whatever tasks the day would bring.