Chapter 53

Clink.

The steak resting on the white plate looked incredibly appetizing.

Back at the orphanage, a single palm-sized piece of meat would be boiled in a massive pot to make soup, and even then, he was lucky to get a bowl of what was essentially meat-rinsed water. At the Haklan estate, they had provided a strictly limited diet under the guise of maintaining his physique. Meat was served, but it was always dry, unseasoned, steamed or grilled lean cuts without even a sauce to dip it in; the vegetable salads had actually tasted better by comparison.

In the slums… well, he was grateful for anything he could actually chew and swallow.

It was only in the Order of Saint Margia that he finally ate dishes that could truly be called meat. The quality hadn’t been great, of course. To feed a legion of energetic knights, they had to choose cheap ingredients in bulk. If the Haklan estate had given him only lean meat, the Order of Saint Margia had provided only fat.

A fifty-fifty mix would have been delicious, Lino thought, half-heartedly cutting into the high-quality steak before him.

“Is it not to your liking?”

Sitting across from him, Grondil had been watching Lino meticulously dice the meat without actually putting a single piece into his mouth. 

He did this last time, too… does he dislike meat? 

Since finding Lino asleep in the study, Grondil had been gathering fresh information on him, from his orphanage days to his arrival here as an escort knight. He was also receiving daily reports on the knight’s routine at the estate.

It’s not that he dislikes meat. 

As long as it wasn’t horribly cooked or spoiled, he ate well. When he had been forced to handle his own meals because of Yuneria, he had even stuffed thick slices of ham into his sandwiches. Today’s lunch had been prepared with special care. Since Lino had eaten only a bowl of plain mushroom soup in the morning due to a sour stomach, Grondil had personally instructed the kitchen to prepare a nutritionally complete meal.

And yet.

“Your Highness, is today a special occasion? This dish is magnificent. It melts on the tongue like a taste of heaven.”

“……”

While Lino, whom Grondil intended to feed, was merely picking at a few greens in his salad, Yuneria—the constant thorn in his side—was gorging herself and showering him with endless praise.

It had been two weeks since Yuneria returned to the Ducal Estate. Lino had realized he was back through the low-quality drugs slipped into his breakfast. Previously, they had been simple laxatives, but since his return, he had undergone a change of heart and started using far more potent substances. Since they caused bleeding in his esophagus and stomach, they were more akin to poisons than drugs.

Leaving aside the petty harassment, he had to be extremely wary of the increasingly toxic substances in his food. Yet, Lino’s naturally easygoing nature led him to the complacent thought that he would ‘just avoid eating it next time.’

When he had coughed up blood recently, it had been serious, but after the medicine Grondil provided healed him completely, his guard had dropped even further. Lino considered Baron Haklan the most dangerous person in his life. He couldn’t bring himself to view Yuneria, who had only been harassing him for two months, as a true threat. He saw him as a mediocre noble whose only asset was his face—a mere mosquito that would buzz around and bite before flying away if he wasn’t careful.

After confirming that Yuneria had started targeting Lino the moment he returned, Grondil made it a point to accompany Lino for all three meals. If Lino felt well, they ate in the dining room; if he was too unwell to move, they ate in either Lino’s room or Grondil’s. The choice of location depended on whose bed Lino happened to be lying in.

Having confessed everything about Isberg and his true identity to Lino, Grondil spent nearly the entire day with the knight by his side. His current routine was worlds apart from the time he spent with Yuneria. Because Grondil visited Lino’s room so frequently, meals were usually served there. Each time, Lino’s meal—which had been touched by Yuneria’s influence—was ruthlessly discarded and replaced with a fresh one.

In truth, Lino never actually ate the food prepared by the servants Yuneria had bribed; Grondil would personally transfer portions from his own plate to Lino’s. No matter how much they loved money, no one was brave enough to tamper with the food of a Duke who held the Emperor’s trust. Thus, except for that first breakfast after his return, Yuneria’s schemes had failed to reach him.

Regardless, the Yuneria who returned to the Ducal Estate acted exactly as he had before he left for treatment. Unfortunately for him, that was merely a desperate facade; within the estate, rumors about him blossomed whenever servants gathered.

From a distance, Yuneria’s face looked fine, but up close, the misalignment was obvious. Lino had overheard servants gossiping that while his upper jaw was normal, his lower jaw had been shattered into pieces under immense pressure. He had apparently poured a fortune into the temple for treatment. 

I knew that temper of him would get him in trouble one day, someone had whispered. If he wants to get by on his looks, he’d need to be five times prettier than he is now.

The other escort knight is so quiet you barely know he’s there. But him? He’s so loud you’d think he was the master’s male concubine. Actually, if he were a concubine, it’d be fine—he’s just desperate to climb the social ladder by throwing his body at him.

The gossiping servants were all tearing Yuneria down, which meant they were likely the ones he hadn’t managed to bribe. Or perhaps they were just sick of his foul personality despite taking his money.

Lino didn’t so much as glance toward Yuneria, who was eating right next to him. If their eyes met by mistake, he would undoubtedly find some reason to pick a fight. He had been making his life miserable for nearly two months just because he couldn’t hold back a laugh; he didn’t need to give the man any more ammunition.

Lino poked a piece of finely cut meat with his fork. He felt weak after eating nothing but plain soup. Even if his stomach didn’t want it, he had to eat high-calorie food to maintain his strength. But just as he was about to put the piece in his mouth…

“I might end up with a little pot-belly at this rate,” Yuneria remarked, rinsing his mouth with lemon water as he spoke to Grondil.

It was clear he was forcing the words through his jaw. Unfortunately, his pronunciation was sloppy due to his misaligned joints. Each time he spoke, he would secretly glare at Lino as if he wanted to kill him. His gaze was so intense he thought the man might actually bore a hole through his cheek.

What on earth did I do to make this bitch act like this? I’m the one with a mountain of grievances, Lino thought.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that the ‘accident’ at the Baron Merchant Guild’s black auction had been his doing. He wanted to demand if he really had to go that far just because of a laugh, but unlike him, who had returned safely, Yuneria was left with a permanent scar. He was trying to be patient and pity him. He thought he had washed away his rough slum speech through his training in the Order of Saint Margia, but thanks to Yuneria, he could feel his inner monologue becoming foul again.

Yuneria, who was glaring at Lino behind Grondil’s back—though Grondil was perfectly aware of it—had been acting strangely throughout the meal.

Yuneria’s usual foxy behavior and fake innocence were present, but today he was doing things he never did. Normally, he would eat a single tart and claim he was too full to eat another bite, but today he was eating like he was possessed. For a moment, Grondil wondered if the vixen had damaged his frontal lobe instead of just his jaw.

Still, Yuneria wasn’t entirely fearless.

Every time Grondil’s hand moved even slightly, he flinched and his hands shook as if he had the ague; anyone could see he was terrified. Yet he continued to pretend everything was normal, desperately trying to catch Grondil’s attention with a mix of seductive and pitiful expressions. It was a pathetic sight.

The only reason he’s even eating in the same room is because there’s a purpose behind it.

Maybe he should have just ripped his jaw out. It was true that once you hate someone, even the sound of their breathing becomes infuriating. Grondil had to suppress the urge to shift and lash his tail across his mouth. 

I should have just killed her. 

While Grondil was uncharacteristically feeling regret, Lino whispered a single word.

“Pot-belly…”

Lino, who had been scraping his plate with his knife while cutting the meat, trailed off and put down his utensils. He carefully touched his own stomach. Watching Lino touch his flat stomach as if something were inside it—especially after he’d barely eaten for days—brought a strange light to Grondil’s eyes.

The sight reminded him of what he had said to Lino recently.

And it would be even better if you got pregnant.

Is he worried about being pregnant because of that ‘pot-belly’ comment?

The corners of Grondil’s mouth twitched upward. He was acutely aware that his curiosity had shifted to interest, then to affection, and was now rapidly evolving into a fierce possessiveness. He had no intention of questioning or resisting that change. It was moving fast, but he saw no reason to reject emotions that were developing so naturally. Instead, he needed to find a way to keep Lino by his side permanently.

He had forgiven Lino’s deception and offered protection from Baron Haklan—in Isberg, the safest place on the continent. He had attached the condition of erasing Lino’s memories when he eventually left, but…

I don’t like it. I should just make sure he never leaves Isberg in the first place.

If they had a couple of kids, Lino wouldn’t be able to move for a decade anyway. And since the boy was so obsessed with Isberg, he probably wouldn’t even want to leave. If he did need to go outside, he could just make it a condition that he always travel with Grondil; that way, he wouldn’t even have to erase his memories.

Having made a firm decision that made his days of agonizing deliberation look pointless, Grondil looked at Lino—who had picked up his utensils again—with a satisfied expression. He didn’t even realize that his lips had softened and a trace of warmth had entered his cold blue-gray eyes.

They say a light drizzle can soak your clothes before you know it, but Grondil had been caught in a downpour. He was soaked to the bone in an instant. Grondil was a man who understood himself well; if it had been a mere drizzle of emotion, he wouldn’t have given Lino a second glance, let alone a place by his side. Thus, the downpour was profoundly satisfying—so much so that he offered a prayer of thanks to a god he usually ignored.

Once he confirmed that the Letia’s mark was an internal womb, he began to view Lino as a gift specifically arranged for him by the Divine. Lino had been abandoned at birth and had lived a harsh life before reaching him. Since the boy had struggled so much, Grondil decided it was time to end that suffering. He planned to crush all those stumbling blocks in Lino’s life into dust before they could even move.

I need to get some food in him first.

It bothered him that Lino had lost weight over the last few days.

Compared to his slender frame, his chest and ass were large, making the knight’s uniform that used to be tight now look baggy. His jawline was sharper than before, too. Because Lino couldn’t eat, Grondil found himself losing his appetite as well. He recalled how well Lino had eaten the Isberg-style desserts at Erin’s restaurant.

Stopping his meal, Grondil casually mentioned that if Lino didn’t want to eat, he shouldn’t force himself, then rose from his seat.

Naturally, the comment was directed at Lino; Yuneria’s plate was already licked clean, leaving only a few streaks of sauce.

“Sir Disson, the food seems to be quite to your liking. I shall take my leave first, so please, continue eating.”

As Grondil rose, Lino and Yuneria stood up alongside him.

“Your Highness, I have something urgent to discuss with you.”

Because his upper and lower jaws did not align properly, Yuneria’s pronunciation was sloppy. 

Hiss. 

He had to suppress the sound of escaping air and remain constantly mindful of the saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, threatening to spill over. When alone, he could simply wipe it away, but he refused to show such a pathetic sight in front of the Duke and that goddamn commoner. He spoke while repeatedly swallowing his own spit.

“What is it?” Grondil asked, his voice dropping several degrees.

Yuneria gritted his teeth, enduring the paralyzing fear that Grondil might seize his jaw again at any moment. “Four days from now, a social gathering called the ‘Night of the Arts’ is scheduled to be held under my mother’s supervision.”

“…The Night of the Arts?”

Night of the Arts, my ass. Grondil naturally swallowed the sneer that threatened to leak out.

He recalled the report Erin had submitted. It was blindingly obvious that this was a stage set by the Duchess of Disson and Baron Haklan.

Even though Grondil’s reaction seemed far from positive, Yuneria didn’t back down and continued to explain the event. “It is a beneficial exchange where leading scholars and artists gather to discuss specific themes and present their research findings. Would Your Highness be so kind as to attend and share your esteemed opinions with the participants?”

“I have no particular interest in art, so I don’t believe I would be suited for such a gathering.”

“What about ancient theology? Most of the books filling Your Highness’s study are concerning ancient times, so you would surely find it enjoyable.”

Yuneria threw out the bait of ancient theology with a triumphant smile. Grondil remained impassive, but Lino—who had been quietly listening to their conversation—gave a noticeable flinch and bit the hook.

“A person who is well-informed about the very thing Your Highness has been searching for so long is scheduled to attend the exchange.”

“Aha. You mean… that?”

“?”

That?