That sweet, innocent smile remained etched on Lane's lips.
The torchlight filtering through the dungeon walls fell upon his face.
As if he had awakened from a velvety dream rather than a terrifying cell.
He placed his trembling, weak fingers on Luka's calloused palm and tapped it ever so gently.
"Luka, I was only sleeping," Lane's voice was as soft as silk drifting in the air.
"Why... why were you crying?"
"These tears, this helplessness... they don't look good on you at all."
Luka's entire body went rigid for a moment.
He pulled his hand back with lightning speed.
As if Lane's touch had brushed against a secret door to his soul.
He rubbed his eyes ruthlessly with the back of his palms, wanting to erase every trace of those tears.
In an instant, the moisture in his eyes vanished.
Replaced by a cold, emotionless, stony gaze.
"Who's worrying about you?"
Luka's voice was now as flat as the surface of a frozen lake.
He jerked his head away so that the last remnants of turmoil in his eyes would remain out of Lane's reach.
"Some dust from this rotten place got into my eyes, that's all. I wasn't crying."
He drew a deep breath into his chest, as if locking himself back into a suit of iron armor.
He returned to that familiar self—the one who knew how to control every situation.
But was a master at hiding the storm within from the world.
Lane watched Luka's turned neck and his tensed shoulders closely.
The smile on his face deepened.
He could clearly read the trembling truth hidden behind Luka's words.
Yet he did not try to strip away the mask.
Instead, he embraced Luka's 'lie' with profound affection.
"Yes, you are absolutely right," Lane agreed in a low voice.
His eyes holding a wisdom that turned Luka's lie into a shield.
"Surely it must have been some dust in your eyes."
"The dust of this dungeon is quite stubborn, after all."
He took a short breath and repeated the same thing with a smile:
"But still, Luka... even if it was just because of the dust, you don't look good at all when you cry."
In the dark corner of the cell, Yuri and Aaya watched this silent dialogue.
The heaviness and silence between the walls had lightened slightly.
But Luka's stern denial had once again raised an invisible wall.
Luka tightened the muscles in his face, making his jaw appear as rigid as stone.
He intentionally made his voice coarse and heavy.
As if burying the rising tide of his concern behind a wall of harshness.
"Do you still not feel any hunger at all?"
Luka's words were cold, but there was a hidden restlessness in their tone.
"A vast amount of time has passed... you haven't touched a single morsel."
Lane braced both his small, trembling hands against the hard wooden plank.
His fingers pressed into the coarse surface as he struggled to support the weight of his own body.
Very slowly, pushing himself upward, he moved into a sitting position.
His breathing was still labored, but that gentle smile had returned to his lips.
"Look, Luka, I really don't feel hungry right now," Lane said casually.
As if an empty stomach were of no consequence.
Luka's gaze remained fixed on Lane.
In his mind, he was calculating the hours since they were in that first cell, which had only a single heavy door.
He remembered clearly that in that place, Lane had eaten when the food was first brought.
But after that, when breakfast was served there, Lane hadn't even glanced at it.
And now here, in this **new cell—where there are large openings for windows and doors, yet neither windows nor doors are actually fitted—
food had been served for the first time.
But Lane's continued indifference was terrifying to Luka.
"Why is that, Lane?" Luka asked, his eyes a mix of suspicion and deep-seated worry.
"From that breakfast back then until now... how can a body go this long without asking for anything?"
Lane raised one hand and moved it to the back of his head.
Scratching through his messy hair as if searching for a simple answer to a difficult question.
There was a strange void in his eyes that didn't quite match the brightness of his smile.
"I... I get hungry very rarely, Luka," Lane said, averting his eyes to the dust on the floor.
There was a haunting truth in his voice.
"Maybe that's why I'm not used to eating much."
Luka noticed that Lane's hands were still quivering against the wooden plank.
But there was a stubbornness in his words that even Luka found hard to break.
The water dripping from the walls of this new cell seemed to bear witness to the fact that a profound mystery was hidden within this small frame.
Luka took a deep breath.
But the restless anxiety hidden in the depths of his eyes was still clearly visible.
He tried to steady his voice, pulling back slightly as he spoke:
"Maybe you're right... the truth is, I don't feel any hunger right now either."
Lane turned his head and scrutinized Luka's face.
The lines of worry etched onto Luka's forehead seemed to tell Lane everything in an instant.
Suddenly, Lane reached out, and looking directly into Luka's eyes, he spoke with a slightly firm tone:
"But Luka, food is necessary for you."
Luka turned to say something, but Lane pressed on:
"It's true that I don't really feel hunger."
"But you? You haven't eaten anything in a long time either."
"How long will you push your body like this?"
"No, Lane," Luka cut him off immediately, a strange defensiveness in his voice.
"I told you, I'm not hungry."
"Besides, how can I be hungry so soon? I ate my fill back in that first cell."
Luka paused, his throat feeling dry, but he pointed a finger toward Lane to emphasize his point.
"But you? You've been hungry since even before we were brought to this new place."
"You haven't eaten anything since breakfast."
"So how is it possible that I haven't felt hunger yet?"
Luka's words echoed into silence, but their weight was palpable in the cold dampness of the cell.
He searched Lane's eyes for an answer to the logic Lane was so easily brushing aside with a smile.
The cold wind whistling through the empty frames of the walls only seemed to heighten the unspoken tension between them.
Luka crossed his arms tightly over his chest.
His eyes still holding that same stone-like resolve.
Without looking at Lane, he said in a flat voice:
"I told you, I'm not hungry either."
Yuri and Aaya had been watching the two of them from a distance.
Looking as though two young brothers were locked in a stubborn standoff.
Yuri could no longer remain silent.
He approached them with slow, steady steps.
"Stop this bickering right now," Yuri said in a soft yet commanding tone.
He picked up a piece of bread from the nearby tray and took hold of the water pouch.
With one hand, he offered the food to Lane.
And with the other, he handed the same to Luka.
Yuri's gaze remained fixed on Lane.
"Lane, even if you don't feel any hunger, it doesn't matter."
"Still, eat a little... just enough to keep your body going."
Lane donned his signature mischievous smile and looked Yuri up and down.
"Yuri, you're talking exactly as if you're our big brother."
The seriousness on Yuri's face melted for a moment.
And a faint smile touched his lips.
"Oh, is that so? Well, if you look at it properly, I actually am older than both of you."
Aaya, who had remained silent until now, stepped closer and chided them:
"Now, both of you stop fighting."
Aaya appeared to be around the same age as Lane and Luka.
Yet there was a maturity in her voice that seemed to soothe the bitterness of the cell.
She nudged the bread in Luka's hand slightly.
As if signaling him to finally eat.
Lane first turned his neck toward Luka and pulled a slightly funny face.
As if he were conceding to Luka's stubbornness.
Then, that familiar smile drifted back onto his lips.
"Fine, fine," Lane said softly, assuring Luka with a look.
"I'll eat, but now you have to eat too."
The moment Lane took the first bite of that dry bread, the tension in Luka's tensed shoulders loosened.
Seeing Lane eat felt as though a storm within Luka had finally subsided.
The icy hardness that had settled in his eyes began to thaw.
And that rigid, stone-like expression vanished from his face.
Luka's mind, which had been trapped in a labyrinth of worry and restlessness, now felt a sense of peace.
His face returned to its usual composed state.
Without any further fuss, he picked up his bread, tore off a piece, and began to eat.
In the stifling atmosphere of the cell, seeing the two of them eating together made the sting of the silence feel a little less sharp.
Aaya and Yuri exchanged a glance, a trace of relief appearing on their faces.
Luka seemed completely normal now.
As if that single bite taken by Lane had silenced all the fears residing within him.
Luka swallowed the last piece of his bread.
But his attention remained fixed on the small figure sitting beside him.
Half the bread was still clutched in Lane's hand.
Lane tried to break off another morsel, but the expressions flickering across his face betrayed his internal struggle.
There was a slight tension on his forehead.
And it seemed as though something was stuck in his throat.
He was putting in all his effort, yet his body refused to accept the dry crust.
Yuri's experienced eyes noted Lane's paling face and his labored breathing.
It was evident that every bite Lane took was a heavy burden.
"Lane, you don't need to force yourself like this," Yuri said in a calm, steady voice.
"Only eat as much as you can manage comfortably."
Upon hearing Yuri's words, Lane's face lit up as if a thousand torches had been ignited at once.
The tension vanished in an instant, replaced by a profound sense of relief.
He immediately turned his neck and looked toward Luka.
There was a singular sparkle in Lane's eyes.
An innocence and a sweet mischief that was enough to melt any of Luka's rigid defenses.
His gaze silently pleaded with Luka, as if saying:
'Look, even big brother has said it now, so don't stop me.'
When Luka saw those shimmering eyes and that innocent face, he had no choice but to remain silent.