While Seraphina simmered in a silent, murderous rage, Evelyn was busy weaving herself into the fabric of the town’s inner circle. Standing beside Adrian, she navigated the introductions with a grace that suggested she had belonged there all along.

"Is this the Mayor’s little sister?" one of the officials asked, leaning in with curiosity.

Evelyn cast a soft, lingering look at Adrian, her voice tinged with a delicate sort of melancholy. "Our families go back a long way. He’s been kind enough to look after me out of duty to our elders."

The Chief of Police chuckled. "Mayor Adrian is young, certainly, but make no mistake—he’s a force to be reckoned with. Decisive, steady, and a man of action. A true pragmatist."

A look of feigned relief washed over Evelyn’s face. "I suppose I’m lucky that despite our ages being close, he’s always compared to my father’s generation. If people held the rest of us to his standard, we’d all be buried in the dust of his shadow."

Adrian blinked, a rare flicker of bewilderment crossing his features. He hadn't expected her to view him with such daunting reverence.

The official burst into a hearty laugh. "Tell me, does anyone in your father’s circle actually dare to measure themselves against him?"

Evelyn offered a playful, dimpled smile. "Not if they value their pride. After all, Adrian was already making waves at City Hall before he hit thirty."

The official’s eyes sharpened with realization. He confirmed a long-standing rumor: Adrian was backed by the Mayor of Jiangcheng himself—he was here to "gild the lily" before rising higher. He pointed a finger at her, laughing again. "You’re a sharp one. I’ve said similar things to my own children, but they aren't half as clever as you. If they were, I’d have no place to hide my old face!"

Adrian watched the girl charm the room, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. Yet, a subtle, complicated feeling stirred within him. Close in age? He had always thought of himself as her protector, her elder. The realization that she viewed him as a peer—at least chronologically—felt strangely unsettling.

Nearby, Seraphina watched the easy laughter through narrowed eyes. Her facial muscles were taut, her gaze cold and venomous.

Julian, meanwhile, was oblivious to the political theater. He had spent the morning breaking his back in the fields and was now shoveling sorghum rice into his mouth like a starving man. As the son of a factory director, he had never known true hunger or the bone-deep exhaustion of manual labor.

The Dominic brothers were no different. When four grown men eat from a shared supply, someone always goes hungry. They descended on the food like locusts. By the time Seraphina pulled herself out of her hateful reverie, the lunchboxes were wiped clean. Not a drop of sauce remained.

"It’s alright," Seraphina lied, her voice sweet even as her stomach cramped with resentment. "I have a small appetite. It’s more important that you boys are full; you have to go back to the fields."

The men felt a fleeting prick of guilt, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She wasn't the one swinging a scythe in the blistering sun. Without fuel, they’d collapse before sunset.

Caleb noticed her box still held a fair amount of sorghum. "Seraphina, are you finished with that?"

Seraphina’s expression stiffened. She had barely eaten a third of it. Barrett hadn't let her idle; he’d sent her to gather firewood by the treeline, and she was famished.

"I... I can't eat another bite," she forced out, her teeth clenched behind a thin smile as she saw the hunger in Caleb’s eyes.

"I'll finish it for you!" Caleb blurted out, already reaching for the box. He convinced himself he was doing her a favor since she was "unwell," while in reality, he just wanted the extra calories.

"But... I’ve already eaten from it..."

"I don't mind sharing with you, Seraphina!" Caleb ignored her protests and began to eat.

Seraphina screamed internally. I mind, you idiot! I mind!

Dominic caught the flash of irritation in her eyes, but he remained silent. Caleb needed the energy for the afternoon shift more than she did. Seraphina clutched her empty stomach, the phantom scent of Evelyn’s braised pork haunting her.

"Julian," Seraphina whispered, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt. "How did Evelyn become so cruel? It’s one thing to hate me, but to ignore her own brother and friend? She had all that meat and didn't offer a single bite to any of you..."

Julian, massaging his aching forearms, glanced toward the other side of the clearing.

Evelyn was busy distributing the rest of her pork to the villagers and officials. The aroma was intoxicating, drawing praise from the town cadres who marveled at the depth of flavor.

Evelyn had originally packed a simple bone broth and salted meat, but the moment she saw Adrian arrive, she had swapped it for his favorite dish from her hidden space. Seraphina hadn't disappointed her; by making a scene, she had ensured Adrian’s opinion of her was now firmly in the gutter. The less Adrian liked Seraphina, the safer Evelyn’s secrets—and that incriminating button—would be.

With a bright smile and a cold heart, Evelyn handed out two-thirds of the meat, reserving the best cuts and the rich, savory drippings for Adrian.

Adrian, who had worked harder than most that morning, found himself eating twice his usual portion. When he finished, Evelyn poured water from her thermos into his enamel cup.

He hesitated. He was notoriously fastidious, rarely touching water others had used. It was a long morning; surely she had drunk from the thermos herself.

"I put a little sugar in it," she urged. "Drink up. You need to keep your strength."

Adrian took a cautious sip. The water was remarkably crisp, with a subtle, refreshing sweetness. As it slid down his throat, a strange coolness surged through his limbs, clearing the fog of exhaustion from his mind. He attributed it to the heat of the day and the relief of a cold drink, not realizing the water had been drawn from a spiritual spring.

He went to set the cup down, but Evelyn watched him with those vibrant, soulful eyes.

"Have another few sips," she insisted. "Once you're back in the fields, you won't get another chance."

Adrian wanted to point out that as the Mayor, no one would dare stop him from drinking water. But looking into her eyes—eyes that seemed to speak a language of their own—he found he couldn't say no.

He drank deeply, and only then did Evelyn’s face break into a genuine, satisfied smile.