Rocco, after receiving the latest recording, clicked his tongue. "The higher the degree, the wilder they play these days!" Then, he forwarded it to Lucian. ... Early Sunday morning, it was a bit warm. Concerned about her mother's health, Darcy volunteered to go to the market. While haggling over prices, she got a call from her mom. "Darcy, buy more groceries, and—just buy more, and some seafood too." Even over the phone, Darcy could sense something was off. "Mom, do we have guests?" Ione chuckled, "Silly girl, just buy more. Don't ask so many questions." Darcy didn't press further, quickly buying the groceries and seafood before driving home. Her hand was just on the silver doorknob when the door opened from the inside. The next second, Hugo's handsome face appeared before her. Since it was the weekend, he was dressed casually—a hoodie and jeans. It was the first time she'd seen him like this. Hmm, looks younger. Hugo saw her gaze linger on him and couldn't help but smile slightly. Looks like my research paid off. "Mom, why did you let him in?" Darcy changed her shoes, carrying the groceries into the kitchen and lowering her voice to complain to Ione. "I've told you before, no strangers allowed inside!" The video doorbell wasn't just for decoration. But Ione frowned. "Silly girl, Hugo isn't a stranger! Have you forgotten how he ran around taking care of us at the hospital? You can't be ungrateful!" Ungrateful??? What a thing to say! Darcy couldn't win the argument and sighed in resignation. But some things had to be made clear. "Mom, it's fine to thank him like a lifesaver. But don't get any other ideas." Ione glanced toward the living room, then leaned closer to her daughter. "You really don't like him? Him coming here on his own means he's into you. I think Hugo is nice. Looks, personality, ability—all outstanding." "But—" "I know what you want to say. But Zane is Zane, and Hugo is Hugo. You're young, yet you're more old-fashioned than I am, judging him by his friends." Seeing her daughter silent, Ione slowed her fruit-cutting. "Last time you said you liked someone else. Were you just lying to me?"Darcy's hand stilled, her eyelashes fluttering. Ione's expression suddenly turned serious. She closed the kitchen door tighter. "Don't tell me you like Jethro? No, I won't allow it!" Darcy felt her nose sting, her chest unbearably tight. "Mom, I... I don't like him." There was no future for her and Jethro. She didn't even realize how hard those words were to say. Even her lips were shaking. Ione finally relaxed. "Good." After cutting and arranging the fruit, Ione shot her daughter a look. "Take this out to Hugo. Be a good host. Don't be rude." Darcy reluctantly went out, placing the fruit platter before Hugo. Hugo didn't stand on ceremony. He picked up a fork, speared a strawberry, and smiled, "Mmm, sweet." Darcy didn't know what to talk about. Small talk felt awkward. Better to watch TV. She turned on the TV and started browsing channels. She turned to him. "What do you like to watch? Variety shows? Movies? Series?" Hugo looked back at her, blinking. "What do you like?" Ugh, I asked him, and he turns it back on me? Remembering her mother's insistence to be a good host, Darcy thought for a moment. "I like stand-up comedy specials." "Hmm, I like those too." So, Darcy pulled up a reality stand-up competition show she followed. At home, watching her favorite show, she soon relaxed completely, occasionally bursting into laughter at the comedians' jokes. It was a stark contrast to her usual composed self. Hugo's lips curved as he took in her uninhibited enjoyment, the smile in his eyes deepening. This was the real her—vibrant, full of life. A sense of smugness even crept into Hugo's heart. This side of Darcy, only I've seen. And she only shows it in front of me. Isn't that a kind of mutual connection? Darcy was so engrossed that she didn't even hear her mother calling her to set the table. She didn't realize who the guest was and who the host was until she saw Hugo emerging from the kitchen with a plate of dishes. Before another pointed look from her mother, Darcy hurried into the kitchen, grabbed the pan-seared salmon fillets, and brought them out. At the table, her mother pulled out all the stops as a host, even shooting Darcy meaningful glances repeatedly.