The faint ticking of a golden-framed wall clock echoed softly in the waiting chamber as the three—Lucien, Knight Rex, and Maid Marie—found themselves alone once more. The opulent room, still basking under the glow of its enchanted crystal lamps, had grown unusually quiet, almost reverent, as though recognizing the weight of Lucien's transformation. Bookshelves lined with ancient tomes and scrolls stood in perfect symmetry along the polished marble walls, while a velvet-draped table at the center remained untouched, the tea that had been prepared for a simpler moment now cold and forgotten.
Knight Rex exhaled deeply, a breath of relief that seemed to ease the tension locked in his broad shoulders. He turned to Lucien, his sharp eyes scanning the boy—no, young man—who now stood taller and far more mature than when they last truly looked at him. And then, with a slight squint of confusion, Rex asked, "Young master... why are you wearing a robe? Where did your clothes go?"
