From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 55: A Decision for Both

Lira couldn’t help but feel impressed as she walked beside Rian through the Storm Clan’s hallways.

The doctor had been clear: Rian’s hands were in far better shape than expected.

The recent burns from sparring with Varn were superficial, and his recovery from internal damage was near-miraculous.

Though minor injuries remained, the improvement was undeniable, leaving her puzzled.

She couldn’t stop wondering if Rian was hiding some special ability he didn’t want to share.

’What’s he keeping secret?’ she thought, stealing a sideways glance.

Rian strolled with his bandaged hands stuffed in the pockets of his new black tunic with red stripes, his posture relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

He was chatting with a young medic organizing jars in the medical area, his tone light and almost playful as he answered a question about enduring the ointment.

"Stings a bit, but no big deal," Charles said, shrugging. "I’ve had worse."

The medic gave a soft laugh, clearly amused by his carefree attitude.

Lira, watching from a few steps back, sighed.

That attitude—his knack for downplaying everything—both exasperated and intrigued her.

Tired of waiting, she stepped forward, cutting in.

"Rian, let’s go," she said firmly. "We’re done here."

Charles turned, raising an eyebrow.

"Already?" he asked, scratching his neck. "Thought you wanted to check with more specialists or something."

Lira pursed her lips, holding back a sarcastic retort.

"For now, this is enough," she said, gesturing down the hallway. "Come on."

Charles nodded without much comment, waving casually at the medic.

"See ya, then," he said, flashing a crooked smile.

The medic returned the gesture, and Lira noticed her lingering curiosity.

She shook her head, annoyed at herself for noticing.

’Focus,’ she thought, starting to walk.

Charles kept pace beside her.

The hallway was quieter now, with only a few servants scurrying about, carrying trays or cleaning.

For a moment, they walked in silence, but then a loud, clear growl broke the calm—coming from Rian’s stomach.

Lira turned, surprised.

"Was that your stomach?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Charles grimaced, pressing a hand to his abdomen.

"Yeah, think so," he said, chuckling. "Haven’t eaten since... I dunno, yesterday? With all the training and sparring, I forgot."

Lira raised an eyebrow, studying him.

His expression was genuine, almost childlike, and for a moment, she felt a pang of concern.

The look caught Charles off guard—he’d never seen Lira make that face in all the time he’d known her.

Without overthinking, an idea hit Lira, and a small smile curved her lips.

"How about I cook you something?" she said, her tone softer. "You know, at my place. Nothing fancy, but it’ll beat cafeteria food."

Charles’s eyes lit up, his posture shifting like he’d just heard the best news ever.

"For real?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You’re gonna cook for me again?"

Lira let out a short laugh, crossing her arms.

"Don’t underestimate me, Rian," she said, a touch of pride in her voice. "I can do more than just give orders. Come on, follow me."

Charles didn’t need telling twice.

"Sweet!" he exclaimed, grinning wide.

’This’ll be interesting,’ he thought, trailing Lira with enthusiasm he couldn’t hide.

He vaguely recalled eating Lira’s cooking once, back when he was a servant.

She wasn’t a gourmet chef, but her food had a homey warmth he’d missed since waking in this world.

◇◆◇

"Come in," Lira said casually.

Charles obeyed, immediately struck by the room’s cleanliness and order despite the clutter of her belongings.

’Perks of personal servants...’ he thought, his gaze drifting to a round, legless chair that looked plush and was stuck to a wall.

"Is that new?" he asked, pointing at it with a grin. "Can I sit?"

Lira blinked, puzzled by the question.

"That chair?" she said, tilting her head. "Sure, go ahead. It’s not gonna bite."

Charles didn’t hesitate.

He flopped into the chair, feeling the cushions mold to his body.

A wave of comfort washed over him.

"This is amazing..." he said, sinking deeper. "Like... I dunno, the comfiest chair ever."

Lira gave a soft laugh, shaking her head.

Since when did Rian act like this?

Though she knew Rian had changed a lot recently, part of her found this new side of him entertaining.

"Don’t be dramatic," she said, heading to a small fridge in the corner. "Bought it recently since I’ve needed more rest dealing with people like you."

Charles laughed, stretching his arms behind his head.

"Ouch, that stings," he said, teasing.

As he settled in, he glanced down, noticing the system’s progress bar still in his vision.

It read 42%, crawling at an irritating pace.

’Why’s it taking so long?’ he thought, frowning.

Was this upgrade really that big?

He brushed it off for now, not wanting to ruin the moment—not when he was in such a comfy chair and Lira was about to cook.

Meanwhile, Lira opened the fridge, pulling out ingredients: a chunk of meat, ripe plantains, a pack of pasta.

She set them on a small table doubling as an improvised kitchen, with a portable stove and utensils.

Turning to Rian, still sprawled in the chair, she spoke calmly.

"I’m making pasta with meat and a plantain sauce," she said, arranging the ingredients. "Sound good?"

Charles looked up, surprised.

"Plantain sauce?" he asked, leaning forward. "That’s a thing? Sounds... weird, but I trust you."

Lira smiled, amused by his reaction.

"It’s a recipe I learned a while back," she said, filling a pot with water. "Not common, but I promise it’s good. Just relax and wait."

Charles nodded, leaning back.

"Alright, Chef Lira," he said, playful. "Blow me away."

Lira rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a smile.

As she set the water to boil, she hesitated, then opened a cabinet and pulled out a pack of special dough for baking.

Turning to Rian, she held it up, a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Hey, you like cakes?" she asked.

Charles blinked, caught off guard.

"Cakes?" he repeated, sitting up. "Hell yeah, who doesn’t? But... you’re really making a cake now?"

Lira grinned, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Chocolate," she said, raising the dough pack. "It’s not as hard as it looks. Want one?"

Charles couldn’t believe it.

Could she really bake a cake in that setup?

His envy of Lira’s room just kept growing.

"Well..." he said, grinning wide. "That sounds awesome. But, like, doesn’t a cake take forever? Don’t want you stressing."

Lira laughed, hand on her hip.

"Underestimating me, Rian?" she teased. "I’m no kitchen rookie. Relax, it’ll be done before you know it."

Charles raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said, chuckling. "I’ll let you work, then."

Lira got to it, moving confidently among her tools.

She mixed the dough with cocoa powder, sugar, and other ingredients Charles couldn’t quite make out.

Meanwhile, the smell of cooking meat filled the room, mingling with the sweet aroma of sliced plantains.

Charles watched, amazed at her speed.

’Where’s she getting all these ingredients?’ he thought, tilting his head. ’Is there a secret clan market or what?’

He wanted to ask, but Lira was so focused he held off.

Plus, exhaustion was catching up.

The day had been long: sparring with Varn, the tunic ceremony, the medical check-up.

Now, in that ridiculously comfy chair, his eyelids grew heavy.

Charles yawned, covering his mouth with a bandaged hand.

"You good over there?" Lira asked, not turning, as she stirred the sauce in a pan.

"Yeah, just... kinda beat," Charles said, rubbing his eyes. "This chair’s too good. Think it’s winning."

Lira gave a soft laugh.

"Rest a bit," she said, playful. "Food’s ready in half an hour."

Charles tried to stay awake, but the room’s warmth and the food’s aroma wrapped him like a blanket.

His eyes drifted shut, and before he knew it, he was out, head resting on a cushion.

Lira, finishing the cake batter, glanced over and saw Rian asleep.

His chest rose and fell with slow breaths, his face—usually tense or smirking—relaxed for the first time in ages.

She sighed, shaking her head.

Quietly, she set the batter aside and walked to a shelf in the corner.

She picked up a small vial of clear liquid, holding it carefully.

As she stared at it, her thoughts swirled.

She knew what she was about to do was risky, but she believed it was best for both of them.