The meal was great.
At least Michael thought so.
The discussion that accompanied it was just as enjoyable.
It was pleasant, even relaxing, but to Michael, that was mostly it.
Given his relationship with Mage Lian, it wasn't that sharing a meal was unusual.
In fact, they had done so at the start of their acquaintance.
However, it had never been to the extent of chatting like old friends.
Michael knew that Mage Lian wanted something from him—or rather, wanted to say something to him.
He was puzzled by the attempt at familiarity—or at least, that's what he suspected it was.
To him, Mage Lian was likely just setting the mood.
And he was right.
"Does Sir Mic still have any intention of competing in the Duke of Evermoon's competition?"
Michael's hand paused.
The duke's competition.
Hearing it again made him feel conflicted.
The entire thing had just been a convenient lie—a simple excuse he'd used to meet Mage Lian a few days ago during their first encounter.
