Chương 351: Chapter : 351

"Limitless premium desserts?" Ken asked. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"You are speaking my exact language, Vice-Captain. Why didn't you lead with the cake? I am the greatest fake boyfriend in the world. I will hold your hand. I will tell your parents I love your glasses. Just point me toward the buffet."

"Deal," Sayma sighed. A massive wave of relief washed over her.

"Go put on your tailored navy blue suit. And please, try to tuck your shirt in."

"I make no promises about the shirt," Ken grinned cheerfully. He popped out of his chair and shuffled toward the door. An hour later, Ken stood in the hallway of the estate. He wore his sharp, tailored navy blue suit. It fit his athletic frame perfectly. But he still managed to look like a complete slacker. His shirt remained untucked. His tie hung loosely around his collar. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and slouched his shoulders. Naomi walked out of the kitchen.

The fierce vanguard leader wiped her hands on a towel. She looked at Ken and raised an eyebrow.

"Where are you going dressed like that?" Naomi asked. She did not glare at him. She offered a warm, highly amused smile. She treated him like a naughty, ridiculous friend.

"Are you going to a funeral for a potato?" Sayma stepped out of her room. She wore an elegant, dark blue silk dress. Her dark hair was styled neatly.

"He is accompanying me to my family's mansion. We are maintaining the ruse." Naomi chuckled softly. She walked over and gently smacked the back of Ken's head.

"Behave yourself tonight, farm boy. Do not embarrass her. Be a good fake boyfriend."

"I am a delight," Ken bragged lazily. He rubbed his head.

"I am going to eat all their expensive food." Sayma and Ken left the estate. They took a fast transit train toward the wealthy Inner City. Sayma reviewed her tactical notes silently. Ken stared out the window. He hummed a happy tune. He daydreamed about chocolate frosting. They finally reached the correct neighborhood. The streets were perfectly paved with white stone. Tall, beautiful trees lined the sidewalks. They stopped in front of a massive, incredibly intimidating iron gate.

Beyond the gate stood a pristine white mansion. It looked like a giant museum.

Sayma linked her arm through Ken's arm. She took a slow, deep breath.

"Remember the plan. You are my deeply committed partner. Follow my lead."

"Got it," Ken nodded.

"Follow the cake." They walked up the long stone path. Two heavily armored guards pulled the large wooden front doors open. Sayma and Ken stepped into the grand foyer. Crystal chandeliers sparkled brightly above them. The floor was polished marble. Three people stood waiting in the exact center of the room. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Sayma's strict parents stood tall and rigid. Her father wore a crisp gray suit. His face showed zero emotion.

Her mother wore an elegant blue gown. She stared directly at Ken's untucked shirt with obvious distaste. Standing right behind them was a perpetually scowling figure. It was Zaima. Sayma's sister from the 16th Unit wore her spotless white and gold combat uniform. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. She glared at Ken with pure, unfiltered disgust. She looked like she wanted to set him on fire.

"Mother. Father," Sayma greeted them smoothly. She offered a flawless, polite curtsy.

"Thank you for inviting us. This is Ken Eliot." Ken did not bow. He did not offer a formal noble greeting. He just slouched his shoulders. He raised his free hand in a very lazy, casual wave.

"Hey," Ken smiled goofily. He looked around the giant room.

"Nice house. You guys have a lot of shiny stuff. Is the dining room this way? My stomach is making actual whale noises right now." Sayma's mother gasped softly. She brought a delicate hand to her chest. She was completely shocked by his terrible manners. Sayma's father narrowed his eyes sharply. Zaima scoffed very loudly in the background.

"You are incredibly direct, Mr. Eliot," Sayma's father stated. His voice was completely flat.

"I am just incredibly hungry," Ken corrected cheerfully. He kept his arm linked with Sayma. He did not look intimidated by the wealthy nobles at all.

"Sayma told me your chef makes amazing desserts. I am really looking forward to a massive slice of cake." Sayma pushed her glasses up nervously. She expected her parents to yell immediately. She braced herself for the angry scolding.

"Dinner is served," Sayma's mother announced stiffly.

"Follow us." They walked down a long, decorated hallway. Ken dragged his cheap shoes on the marble floor. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. The noise echoed loudly. Zaima glared fiercely at the back of his messy head. They entered a massive dining room. A long wooden table sat in the middle. Tall candles flickered on the table. Ken pulled a chair out for Sayma. She sat down gracefully. He flopped into the chair right next to her. He immediately slouched forward. He rested his elbows heavily on the fancy white tablecloth.

Sayma's parents sat across from them. Zaima sat at the far end of the table. She refused to touch her silver fork.

"So, Mr. Eliot," Sayma's father began. He carefully cut a piece of roasted meat.

"Sayma tells us you serve in the 13th Unit. You are a commoner from the outer districts. What exactly are your long-term career goals?" Ken put his fork down. He looked directly at the stern nobleman. He answered with complete, transparent honesty.

"My ultimate goal is to retire as soon as possible," Ken stated lazily. He took a loud sip of his water.

"I want to buy a small farm in the countryside. I want to grow potatoes. I want to sit on a quiet porch and take naps every single afternoon. I highly dislike doing extra work." Sayma froze entirely. Her heart stopped beating. She stared at Ken in pure horror. She thought her flawless tactical plan was completely ruined. You simply do not tell strict, ambitious nobles that your life goal is taking naps. Zaima sneered loudly.

"You are pathetic. You have absolutely zero ambition. You are a lazy beggar dragging my brilliant sister down."

"Zaima, manners," her mother scolded gently. Sayma's mother looked closely at Ken. She tilted her head. She observed his incredibly relaxed posture. She watched him grab a warm bread roll and bite into it without waiting for permission. He did not try to impress them. He did not use fancy words. He just acted exactly like himself. Instead of acting like a refined, perfectly disciplined noble to impress them, Ken fully leaned into his goofy, obnoxious, highly uncoordinated slacker persona.

He made terrible jokes about his shoes. He slouched heavily on their expensive furniture. Sayma's parents exchanged a very long, very quiet look across the table. Sayma waited for the explosion. She waited for her father to demand an immediate breakup. Surprisingly, his utterly careless, transparently honest, and comedic behavior acted as a massive breath of fresh air for Sayma's rigid parents. Her father placed his knife down. A small, totally unexpected smile touched the corner of the strict nobleman's mouth.