"Having fun?" The words slide from Irene’s lips, a concoction of sarcasm and genuine inquiry. I cringe, wrecking my brain to find a response that won’t dismantle the fragile foundation of my relationship with this incredible woman.

"Huh, no?" I venture tentatively, a hint of uncertainty lacing my tone.

Irene raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking into a smirk as she retorts, "It looked like you were having tons of fun."

I can feel the weight of her gaze, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. "We were just baking some pastries with the [Princess]. Flaminia thought it would be best to call Lucinda as a pair of extra hands since everyone else was swamped."

A pause. Then, "Everyone else in the entire bakery couldn't spare a moment to assist the most important person in Amorium?" Irene deadpans, her tone a blend of disbelief and mild irritation.

Behind me, I sense Lucinda shifting uncomfortably, the tension in the room palpable. A silent curse for Flaminia and her ill-timed suggestions echoes in my mind. "Heh, it’s not as big of a deal as it seems."

Lucinda, perhaps sensing the delicate balance teetering on the edge, interjects hesitantly, "Hey, maybe it’s best if I leave…"

"No," Irene frowns, "don't let me interrupt the fun. Please, go ahead."

The atmosphere grows heavier, the curious and concerned eyes of the bakery’s patrons and staff turning to the unfolding scene. Lucinda appears caught in a dilemma, uncertainty etched across her features. I’ve grown quite fond of Irene, but her mood swings can be moody.

What's the best move to defuse the situation?

Internally, I debate the best course of action to defuse the escalating tension. A delicate balance must be struck, a resolution that preserves the harmony of all parties involved. "Lucinda, would you mind giving me a moment to converse with my beautiful girlfriend?" I propose, turning to the redhead with a reassuring smile and a gentle rise in my eyebrow, silently communicating my intentions to navigate us both out of this precarious situation.

She nods and quickly scampers away as I turn to a foot-tapping Irene, with her hands on her hips, clearly tempted by throwing a flip-flop at my head—well, Elves have sandals, so that’s close enough in my books.

Before I can muster even a single word to navigate the rising tempest of emotions, a whirlwind of pink hair and seething anger materializes between us. "Hello, Irene," Flaminia greets with a voice that’s dangerously edged.

"I'm not here to talk to you," Irene retorts, her face twisting with a mixture of disdain and disgust.

Flaminia’s eyes narrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "No? Rotten roots, I must have missed the apology you sent by the [Courier], then."

Irene's frown deepens, "apology? For what?"

"Ladies," I interject, wedging myself in the middle of the brewing storm, fingers poised to conjure a [Light Shield], half-wishing I had delved into studying some nuclear-powered separators to prevent women from engaging in mud-slinging, hair-pulling battles—or perhaps not.

Flaminia’s eyes flare, the barely controlled fury evident as she recounts, "You come into my bakery, you strike me across my head from the back, you insult me in front of my employees, and you don't think you owe me an apology?"

"Rot in a ditch, Flaminia," is Irene's response, fully laced with venom.

Jesus Christ.

"Irene, I understand the depth of your pain, truly, I do. But can't we try to—" My voice cracks a little, a desperate attempt to mediate and bring some semblance of reason into the escalating chaos.

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Flaminia, however, appears to have no inclination towards de-escalation.

"The brother she didn't talk to because she's clearly crazy," the pink-haired [Chef] pours a gallon of gasoline on the fire, "with all that mold in the head, it’s obvious you couldn't see that Plinius was trying to do better."

This unbridled provocation is the final straw for Irene. She lunges forward, aiming for the pink-haired [Chef]. My reflexes kick in, and I manage to grab her, pulling her off the ground, my heart pounding against my chest.

"Flaminia, have you lost your damn mind?!" I shout, my voice rising above the cacophony, echoing off the walls of the establishment.

"Let me go!" Irene seethes, her eyes ablaze with rage. "You harlot, I'll pound your head right into that table! It'll knock some sense into you! Joey, let me go!"

"Your dead brother clearly won’t miss you one bit," Flaminia spits more poison.

The anger inside me reaches a boiling point.

"Flaminia!" I thunder, my voice slightly empowered by a burst of Mana. "Go! Now!"

I channel my aura into my command, intensifying it, and I witness Flaminia pale, her teeth gritting in suppressed anger. She complies reluctantly, heading towards the offices, her departure leaving behind an unresolved mess.

"Is this the kind of people you want to work with?! Is this—"

I immediately release Irene, pull her head in, and whisper into her ear, "I've received a letter from Plinius. Quit it. We need to talk."

...

Irene's hands tremble as she reads the letter in the storage room. My employees have seen enough drama for an entire year today, and I'm not about to bring up any more before people start resigning. Thank God there's also a few ex-[Soldiers] who've seen war, because today was a positive bloodbath.

"Plinius thought about you all this time," I articulate softly, gently caressing her arms as I face her, trying to offer a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. "He was worried about the Dungeon, about something happening. I can't imagine how serious the situation must have been for him to write to me."

"Joey... I—I don't understand," Irene’s voice quivers as she lifts the letter, her gaze meeting mine, a picture of vulnerability. Her energy is seemingly drained, and the pallor of her face clearly reflects her weakened state.

"I don't either. Today has been crazy, ok? First, Plinius, then the mob, then the [Princess]. Now, it's getting late, and we are all dead tired. I'll come by your house later and bring some food, ok? I just need to clear up some things here. Please."

A slight shiver runs through Irene before she abruptly closes the distance between us, her body collapsing into my chest, the soft sobs emanating from her resonating in the quiet room.

This woman needs a break.

A flicker of annoyance sparks within me as I realize that I have the additional burden of addressing Flaminia’s dramatic antics. A sense of helplessness washes over me.

What the hell do I do with that? I can't fire a partner.

...

I'm clearing up some duties with Clodia on the kitchen floor, positively wiped for the day and having completely neglected my magical training, with no lack of remarks from the squatter [Archmage] in my head.

When I feel a small jolt of electricity running through my body, it actually feels refreshing.

As soon as Clodia and I finish defining the rest of the details for tomorrow, I hear shuffling feet behind me.

"Joey?" The familiar voice belongs to...

"Oh, Lucy—nda," I catch myself midway through the nickname.

I need to be less friendly, shit. Irene is going to lose her mind. We have already talked a long while about this.

Yeah, my relationship with Irene brought a natural distance between Lucinda and me. I don't know exactly what happened, but Irene coming to jail to see me every day forged a very strong bond between us. We even exchanged a kiss between the bars at some point—really romantic stuff, if you ask me.

So, yeah, with Lucinda... things haven't been very clear. The waters were already muddied before Irene burst back onto the scene, but now, calling it awkward would be the understatement of the year. It would be like calling Flaminia a normal Elf.

The problem, obviously, is that the feelings that had been there before haven't exactly disappeared.

"I thought you left already," I say reluctantly, my gaze meeting her purple eyes.

"No, I—" She looks pained.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry about what happened. It must be hard on Irene."

"Yeah..." I sigh, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Just wait until I catch Flaminia, though. She's run away, knowing I'm going to punish that kind of behavior. Every time I think she's gone less out of her mind, she surprises me."

"She's very particular," Lucinda attempts a smile before shifting her eyes and lowering her voice. "Joey, there's something else I wanted to tell you."

"Oh?" My heart accelerates. "Sure?"

"You know, it's... well, part of it is the stuff I talked about with Flaminia a few months ago when we were helping you out. She told me a few things that just stuck with me. I've taken an important decision."

"Ok, that sounds... cool. What is it?"

Lucinda looks at me and bites her lower lip, making my heart rate spike even more, "see, I decided I... you..."

Oh, shit. OH, SHIT. Oh, please! Please, Lucinda, don't tell me you are telling me...

"Joey, I..."