That afternoon, Thunder was testing the power of his Five Lights Thunder Talisman in the courtyard, turning the place into a smoky, chaotic mess.
Hearing the noise, Tifa rushed in, blinked at the scene, then quietly retreated.
"Get back here!" Thunder called after her.
She froze, turned, and stood stiffly, hands behind her back, eyes wary.
When Thunder was injured, Tifa had dutifully cared for him. But lately, she'd been avoiding him—old fears from Colin's beatings lingering.
"Not gonna hit you," Thunder said, softening. "Come here."
Tifa hesitated, then inched forward, stopping five meters away.
"Reading those trashy knight novels again?" Thunder eyed a handwritten book she'd dropped outside, its pages fluttering in the wind.
Tifa stared at her feet, face red.
"Less of that junk. It'll rot your brain." Thunder stepped closer, wiping a crumb from her lip as she flinched. "And cut the snacks. Eat real food. You're still growing."
He snatched her bag of sunflower seeds, popping one into his mouth. Since Angus's "gifts," Tifa had been snacking nonstop, barely touching meals.
"Young Master… you too…" she mumbled.
"Me? I'm twenty-eight—done growing."
"Twenty," she corrected softly.
Right. Colin was only twenty.
Grumbling, Thunder tossed the seeds aside. "Follow me." As Tifa eyed her snack longingly, he dragged her off.
The estate was vast—built by Colin's late father, a baron obsessed with grandeur. Now, with just three occupants, it felt hollow.
"This place needs life," Thunder said, surveying the overgrown garden. "Talk to Oak. Hire some servants to clean up. It's too dead around here."
Tifa trailed behind, nodding.
A pavilion stood in the garden. Thunder vaulted onto it, smirking as Tifa took the long way up the stairs.
*So evil.*
"And that pond—stock it with goldfish. Or turtles if fish are pricey. It's just stagnant water now."
"I'll discuss it with Oak," Tifa said.
Back when Colin neglected the household, survival came before upkeep.
Thunder straightened his clothes, leaped down, and strode off, Tifa dutifully keeping her distance.
*Damn, this feels good.* Colin's memories were rubbing off on him.
He glanced back. Tifa froze mid-step.
She had potential—pretty, but underfed. A few years of proper meals would do wonders.
"You scared of me?" Thunder frowned. *I'm the nice one here.*
Tifa reflexively nodded, then shook her head.
"Admit it. But no more beatings. My fault before. I'm sorry."
"Young Master… is good," she stammered.
"Bullshit." Colin had been a parasite, leeching off Tifa and Oak.
Tifa fidgeted, words stuck in her throat.
"Spit it out." Thunder chewed on a blade of grass.
"Nothing…"
"Say it!"
"No servants," she blurted. "They'll run."
When the Ulman family fell, the staff had fled. Understandable—no pay, no reason to stay. But Tifa saw it as betrayal.
"Three people can't handle this place," Thunder said. "We'll drown in chores."
"Buy slaves," Tifa suggested, relaxing slightly. "No wages. Just food and shelter."
As a former slave herself, she knew the system.
"They won't run. And if things go bad again…" She trailed off. "You could sell them."
"That's messed up," Thunder said, uneasy. Not out of kindness—he just wasn't used to this world's ways.
"It's normal," Tifa insisted. "You'd be saving them. Other masters… aren't kind."
She had a point. Slaves were a one-time purchase—property, bound for life. No wages, no rights. Kill one, and the law wouldn't blink.
"Fine. Tomorrow, we'll buy slaves."
But in a world where humans are property—can Thunder truly play the master?