Transmigrated Into a Cannon Fodder Phoenix, Stuck With the Ice Dragon-Chapter 126: Between Two Worlds

The dining hall was filled with the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain. Plates shifted, forks tapped lightly, and the quiet rhythm of a shared meal settled over the table.

Lucian sat beside Seraphina, while Arienne occupied the seat across from them.

"Mother will be starting her physiotherapy today, right?" Seraphina whispered to Lucian at her side.

Lucian frowned slightly, "Physiotherapy?" he repeated under his breath. "What is that?"

Seraphina blinked at him. "You don’t have physiotherapy here?"

Lucian shook his head slowly. "Not by that name."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. "It’s basically guided recovery training," she explained. "Exercises are meant to help the body relearn how to move after being injured or... in Mother’s case, after being bedridden for too long. It strengthens muscles, improves balance, and prevents long-term damage."

Lucian listened carefully, brows knitting as he processed it.

"So," he said after a moment, "what you’re describing sounds like Restorative Body Weaving."

Seraphina paused.

"That sounds... much cooler than physiotherapy."

"It’s usually handled by healers trained in physical recovery," Lucian continued. "Not to heal wounds directly, but to coax the body back into motion."

Across the table, Arienne paused mid-bite.

"So that’s what you call it," she said calmly, looking at Seraphina.

Seraphina nodded quickly. "Yes."

Arienne’s gaze softened. "I really wish I could go there," she said quietly. "The world you’ve told us about... it sounds interesting."

Seraphina hesitated, then offered a small smile.

"It’s not perfect," she said. "But there are things I miss. Ordinary things."

Lucian glanced at her. "Like what?"

Seraphina thought for a moment. "Morning routines," she said. "People are recovering slowly instead of relying on miracles. Healing that takes time."

Arienne lowered her eyes, thoughtful, "That doesn’t sound so different from here," she murmured.

Lucian looked between them, something unreadable passing through his expression.

"Perhaps not," he said. "Just different names for the same struggle."

"Then..." Seraphina blinked hard, suddenly brightening with an idea. "Should I find a way to go back to my world?"

Lucian frowned immediately.

"Are you thinking of leaving me again?"

"I—I mean we," she corrected quickly, waving her hands. "All of us." She hesitated, then added, half-serious, half-hopeful, "Since I can cry now... maybe I should bottle it up and make a wish with it. Who knows? It might work..."

The table went quiet.

Lucian stared at her. "You want to use your tears like a wishing well?"

Seraphina nodded. "They’re phoenix tears. They’re supposed to be powerful."

Lucian leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"Seraphina," he said carefully, "those tears aren’t toys."

"I know," she said, softer now. "I just thought... if there’s a way to help Mother. To show her another world. To give her something new to look forward to..."

Across the table, Arienne set her utensils down.

"That’s very kind of you," she said gently. "But you don’t need to tear open worlds for my sake."

Seraphina looked at her, conflicted.

Lucian reached for her hand under the table, his grip firm and grounding.

"And," he added quietly, "we don’t make decisions about leaving the world without talking first."

She glanced at him, then nodded slowly, "Okay."

But the idea didn’t leave her eyes. She bit her lip and stared down at the food on her plate, nudging it absently as if the answer might be hidden somewhere between the grains and sauce.

Lucian noticed. Of course he did.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push and didn’t question. He only shifted slightly closer, his knee brushing against hers beneath the table, a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.

"Is it hard to live here?" he whispered.

Seraphina blinked, the question catching her off guard.

She didn’t answer right away. She took a deep breath, then shook her head.

"Actually..." she said slowly, "even though both worlds never really seemed to be on my side, at least here I’m rich—"

Lucian, who clearly hadn’t expected that answer, choked on his food.

Seraphina immediately leaned over and patted his back.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying not to laugh. "Was I too honest?"

She smiled brightly.

"I’m just saying. In my world, everything was hard. Even making money." She shrugged lightly. "Without much education, I always ended up in jobs that barely paid enough to survive."

Lucian finally recovered, coughing once more before shooting her a look. "What kind of job?"

"Hm..." She looked up, rolling her eyes as she thought. "I sometimes delivered food, worked as a waitress, and took part-time jobs as a store assistant."

Lucian paused mid-motion.

"You did all of that?"

She nodded casually. "Whatever paid, really. As long as it didn’t break the law."

Arienne glanced up from her plate, surprise flickering across her face.

"All by yourself?"

Seraphina smiled, not proudly—just matter-of-fact.

"Of course, I am the one who needs money," She laughed it off, "I didn’t really have a choice."

Lucian stared at her for a long moment, something heavy settling in his chest.

"And you survived like that," he said quietly.

She tilted her head. "’Survived’ is a strong word. But I managed."

Then she turned her chair slightly, facing Lucian.

"And did I ever tell you..." she said, lowering her voice a little, "...that I’m a writer?"

Lucian blinked. "A writer? What kind?"

She hesitated, then shrugged like she was confessing a guilty pleasure.

"Contemporary romance," she said. "The kind with billionaires. Millionaires. Basically every kind of -naire that exists."

Lucian stared at her. "Romance?"

She nodded. "Very unrealistic ones."

Arienne, who had been quietly eating, paused, clearly interested.

"So," Lucian said slowly, "it’s about a man falling in love with a woman, right?" He frowned slightly. "What are billionaires?"

Seraphina squinted.

"They don’t call it the same here?" She tilted her head, then shrugged. "Basically... someone with a ridiculous amount of money." She glanced at him. "Someone like you."

Lucian choked again.

Arienne lifted a brow. "Like him?"

"Yes," Seraphina said firmly. "Powerful, rich, influential. Usually emotionally unavailable too."

Lucian stared at her, "That feels targeted."

She smiled innocently. "Pure coincidence."

Arienne set her utensils down, amusement softening her features.

"So in your stories," she asked, "what happens to these wealthy men?"

Seraphina thought for a moment.

"They fall very hard," she said. "Usually for someone ordinary. Someone they never expected."

Lucian went quiet.

"And the ending?" Arienne pressed.

Seraphina smiled, smaller this time.

"They always choose love," she said. "No matter how much it costs them."

Lucian looked at her then, really looked at her. "That doesn’t sound unrealistic at all," he murmured.

Seraphina blinked, "Really?"

He nodded once. "I think you’ve just been living in the wrong world."

She laughed softly.

And for a moment, the dining table felt warmer than it had all morning.