Chapter 72

“So, you’re telling me the reason my Letia goes absolutely rabid for my semen is because, upon recognizing me as his mate after 23 years, 23 years’ worth of affection deficiency erupted all at once? And to relieve that intense anxiety, he needs to ingest or bathe in the strongest concentration of my scent—which comes from my body?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I confined five senior theology professors from Aquila University, five obstetrics professors, and five psychiatry professors in a room for a week. I ordered them to analyze every recorded case from ancient to modern history where a human from outside Isberg conceived a Beast’s child. This is the prevailing hypothesis based on their collective data.”

“I see… Then, does it have any negative effects on the cubs in his belly?”

“Since he remains in a highly stabilized state due to Your Highness’s concentrated scent, they claim it is actually excellent for prenatal care.”

“Still, it’s excessive. Generally, morning sickness appears in the early stages and fades after about a month. Lino is past the early stages, and this is already his second month.”

Fearing an underlying health issue, Erin stepped forward. She handed Grondil the latest medical report.

“This is the result of Lord Letia’s health exam from two days ago. While his physical balance has deteriorated somewhat due to the severe morning sickness, the fetuses are perfectly healthy, so you needn’t worry about the little lords—”

“Erin, you know better than anyone that the reason I constantly monitor Lino’s condition is for his health, not the cubs’.”

Glaring at the detailed report of Lino’s deteriorating health, Grondil cut Erin off with a menacing, feral growl. Lino’s condition was alarmingly poor. It was obvious just by looking at him; the areas that used to be plump and firm were now flat and hollow. There was no way the numerical data would show positive results.

“We must fatten Lino up by his due date. Even if we can’t return him to his previous weight, we must recover at least 70% of his mass.”

His expression turning dangerously grim, Grondil issued a strict command to Enoch and Erin to increase Lino’s weight.

“Lord Castillion. We only have one month left until Lord Letia’s due date…”

“Your Highness. Unless the morning sickness completely vanishes this instant, recovering his weight in a single month is physiologically impossible.”

Not only Erin, but even Enoch—who would gladly dive into a pit of fire at Grondil’s command—looked profoundly troubled. Yet, Grondil outright rejected their hesitation.

“Make it happen. Giving birth in this state is too dangerous. I’d rather the cubs—”

“Aaaah! Absolutely not! What do you mean, ‘rather the cubs’?!”

Erin shot up from her seat, screaming over Grondil’s words to cut him off. She didn’t need to hear the rest to know it was a horrifyingly dangerous proposition. The idea that he would willingly sacrifice the unborn cubs to preserve Lino’s health—a decision that would make no one happy and leave everyone miserable.

“I-I will do whatever it takes.”

“We will try our absolute best, Your Highness. So please, retract those ominous words.”

Enoch, who had just claimed it was impossible, hastily promised to try, desperately blocking Grondil from finishing that sentence.

“Which brings me to my next point. I have an excellent idea.”

“Ah, you already had a method to restore Lord Letia’s health within a month.”

Enoch looked at Grondil with sparkling eyes. To issue a command already possessing the solution—truly fitting of my master, he thought, his gaze brimming with admiration.

“Ah, does this… happen to be the reason you asked me to clear my schedule this evening?” Erin asked, recalling the events in Grondil’s bedroom from late that morning. Grondil nodded.

“Correct. I will be cooking Lino’s food myself.”

“…You will, Lord Castillion?”

“Y-Your Highness, you intend to cook personally?”

Erin and Enoch’s eyes simultaneously bugged out of their skulls in sheer disbelief. Displeased by their reaction, Grondil clicked his tongue. Tsk.

“Until the due date, you are both conscripted into the Weight Gain Operation for Lino Cliff, Letia La Isberg.”

“…”

“…”

Having delivered his unilateral notification, Grondil rose from his seat.

“The kitchens are this way, correct?”

Since the moment he was born as the Beloved of the Gods, Grondil had only ever consumed meals meticulously prepared by others; he had never cooked a single thing in his life. Yet here he was, declaring he would prepare food—not even for himself, but for someone else. Paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of the situation, Erin and Enoch couldn’t even muster a reply. They merely stared blankly at Grondil’s retreating back as he strode off to locate the kitchens.

“What are you doing? Follow me. Do you not want your salaries? Shall I cut your pay?”

“A-Ah, no, sir!”

Erin, who desperately needed to purchase new testing equipment for her upcoming experiments, snapped out of her daze first and scrambled after Grondil. Enoch hurriedly followed suit. No matter how deeply ingrained his loyalty was, a pay cut was simply unacceptable.

‘To think he was this serious…’

Subconsciously, Enoch realized he had always assumed Grondil would never truly give his heart to anyone.

The same likely applied to Erin, who constantly sang songs about wanting to observe Lino Cliff’s every move, record it, and study him from head to toe. After all, Grondil was the first person she had ever so desperately wanted to research while they were still breathing, and now Lino was the second.

It made perfect sense. Standing before a woman utterly consumed by her research were two individuals blessed by the gods, bound to each other as fated mates, with one of them currently experiencing male pregnancy.

‘Thank the gods His Highness drew a firm line.’

If not for Grondil, Lino would have had his blood, hair, and semen extracted multiple times a day.

Breathing a sigh of profound relief, Enoch opened the heavy door to Erin’s kitchen. This wasn’t the main kitchen of the Isberg Palace, but Erin’s personal, private cooking space. Originally commissioned by Grondil specifically to prepare meals for Lino’s severe morning sickness, the space had seen a complete role reversal; it was now stocked with ingredients far more luxurious than the palace’s main kitchen. Enoch could practically hear the palace head chef’s pride shattering from here.

“I have arrived. Your High—”

“No, are you seriously planning to put that in there?!”

Stepping into Erin’s kitchen to announce his arrival, Enoch’s greeting was abruptly cut off by Erin’s horrified scream.

‘What is going on?’

Erin was notoriously reckless and lacked any sense of hierarchy, but she usually knew how to toe the line in front of Grondil, the master of the Grand Principality. Yet that scream just now sounded dangerously close to an auditory hallucination of her yelling, ‘Hey, you crazy bastard—’

“Why not? I think it could yield sufficiently excellent results.”

“Haa… Can’t you just do it the way you normally do?”

“Fascinating. I assumed you would welcome this with open arms. Aren’t you curious to see if it maintains its efficacy when mixed into food rather than consumed directly?”

“Lord Castillion. I may toss ethics out the window when it comes to research… but even I think this is crossing a line. I really do. How can a person… especially in Lord Letia’s food… put that…”

What on earth are they talking about? Enoch didn’t dare interrupt their bizarre conversation, choosing instead to eavesdrop from a safe distance. He was intensely curious about the topic… but simultaneously felt a strong urge to remain entirely uninvolved.

“Why don’t you just be honest? You just don’t want to taste-test food that has my semen in it.”

“…?”

Listening quietly, Enoch froze entirely at Grondil’s bombshell declaration, turning into a literal statue. Your Highness… what… what did you just say you put in the food?

Enoch’s shock didn’t end there.

“Isn’t that completely obvious?!”

“Lino eats it perfectly fine. What’s the big deal about taking a tiny taste?”

“No, that’s because he is Lord Letia! That is a highly specialized case!”

“I’m not asking you to eat a full meal. Is a simple taste-test really that difficult?”

“Make someone else do it!”

Refusing to continue the conversation with Grondil, Erin marched purposefully toward the petrified Enoch. Her grim, determined expression boded incredibly ill. Enoch tried to flee, but Erin’s hand shot out faster, clamping down on his shoulder.

“You can just use my loyal older brother right here!”

“Uh, u-uh? W-Wait a minute. Erin, what are you…!”

Suddenly shoved forward as Erin’s human shield, Enoch looked frantically between Grondil and Erin, utterly unable to hide his panic. His eyes darted wildly in the absurd situation, completely betraying his internal screaming that he would absolutely, unequivocally refuse to taste-test food containing his master’s… fluids.

“I see. So your loyalty only extends that far,” Grondil muttered, stroking his chin.

Enoch knew he had to protest. He needed to shout that no, his loyalty was absolutely not that shallow. But the words simply refused to leave his mouth. Locked in a tense standoff, Enoch and Erin’s brains worked in furious overdrive.

They revered Grondil and had pledged their absolute loyalty to him, but taste-testing food containing their master’s… that… was something they wanted to avoid by any means necessary.

Sitting on a backless stool in the kitchen, Grondil quietly observed his two closest confidants exchanging silent, frantic glances. In truth, he had absolutely no intention of making them taste it. Even if they had volunteered, he would have stopped them.

‘When I need to scrape together every last drop just to feed Lino, why would I waste it on a taste-test?’

He glanced at the wall clock. Enoch and Erin had been exchanging desperate looks for ten minutes now. It meant neither had found a viable loophole. Seeing the cold sweat beading on Enoch’s forehead confirmed it.

“Tsk.”

“!!!”

At Grondil’s short click of his tongue, both their shoulders jolted violently upward. To think people capable of tearing apart large monsters with their bare hands are this easily spooked. Deciding he needed to crack the whip and re-establish some discipline soon, Grondil stood up from the stool. As he lightly rolled his shoulders, a terrifying crack echoed from his joints. It was likely a side effect of remaining in his human form for too long. I should shift back to my true form tonight and sleep holding Lino. Loosening his other shoulder, he walked toward the prep counter.

“Enoch, gather recipes for making sauces.”

“…Sauces?”

“Erin, prepare a list of dishes that utilize sauces heavily.”

“Utilize sauces heavily… Ah, sauces!”