Later, when Lukas finally managed to sit on a stone bench, feeling his legs ache, he heard footsteps he knew all too well. Luiz approached slowly, wearing that usual expression that said he always had something to comment on.

  — So… — he began, scratching his scruffy beard. — You made the whole city cry and pay taxes for the pleasure of stuffing their stomachs.

  He smirked slightly. — That was… unexpected.

  — If you came to mock me, just do it quickly. I’m tired. — Lukas sighed, closing his eyes.

  — Mock you? — Luiz huffed. — Of course. How could I miss the chance?

  He leaned against the bench, shaking his head. — You really think you can build a House with nothing but pots and speeches?

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  There was irony in his tone… but also something Lukas couldn’t quite name.

  — You know these people will love you while there’s food. But when the time comes to risk their lives… it’ll be a different story.

  — I know. — Lukas replied firmly. — But if they at least have one good memory — something that makes them feel this place is worth fighting for… that’s already a start.

  For a moment, Luiz stayed silent, watching the square where children ran with coxinhas in hand and old men counted coins to buy puddings.

  — …You’ve always been different. — he muttered so softly that Lukas almost didn’t hear. — Annoyingly… different.

  Lukas turned to him. — Is that a compliment?

  — It’s a warning. — Luiz raised his chin, his tone casual again. — When you fail, don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.

  He turned away before Lukas could answer.

  — …Still… — he murmured as he walked off — if you ever need good suppliers to keep this circus running… come find me.

  And he left without looking back.

  César’s voice echoed in Lukas’s mind, carrying a hint of humor:

  "He’ll deny it till he dies, but he respects you. He just doesn’t know how to admit it."

  Morgana chuckled softly:

  "So cute… your brother trying to act indifferent. Makes me almost want to stop insulting people today. Almost."

  Lukas smiled faintly to himself.

  — Thanks… — he whispered quietly. — …for not admitting it.

  End of Chapter 27