* * *
Ranshel just let him look.
It was too late to pull his hand back now, and honestly, there wasn’t much point in hiding it anymore.
‘It doesn’t look that bad now, anyway…’
He’d had time to recover while preparing to leave the castle.
It wasn’t as gruesome as before.
Even so, Ranshel felt his face burn.
All that trickery—just to see his hand?
It almost made it feel like Zavad was… worried about him.
After inspecting both hands, Zavad finally let go and gestured for him to eat.
But Ranshel already felt like his chest was warm from more than just hunger.
“It wasn’t a burn, huh.”
“No. Just… from working. Sometimes your nails lift a bit.”
“Oh yeah? All ten fingers?”
“…Yeah, sometimes. That happens…”
The warmth inside him cooled again.
Ranshel, feeling like he might cry for entirely different reasons, sipped at the stew.
‘It’s… good.’
The warmth returned. His green eyes sparkled.
Eh, whatever.
He could just say he mishandled something and it happened.
The thought cheered Ranshel up, and he felt like a bit of a fool for it.
Zavad rested his chin in his hand and stared at him.
“Why’d you come to the castle?”
“To earn money.”
“Did someone promise you a lot if you became my servant?”
“Yeah.”
“Is your employer in the imperial capital?”
Ranshel’s happy mood cooled slightly as he chewed a piece of meat in the stew.
Zavad was feeding him stew and interrogating him at the same time.
Ranshel only spoke once his plate was completely clean—he wanted to make sure the food wouldn’t be taken away before he picked a fight.
“And if I say no, would you actually believe me?”
‘What are you even going to do with this information?’
His question was laced with defiance.
Even if he lied, what could Zavad do about it?
But Zavad’s reply was simple.
“I’d believe you.”
Yeah, right.
“Then take it as a no.”
“Alright.”
Zavad responded as if it really didn’t matter.
He even placed his own soft, flaky bread in front of Ranshel.
Ranshel eyed it with suspicion.
Another trap?
Still, he grabbed the bread with both hands.
If he touched it, it’d be too dirty to take back—ha!
He shoved it into his mouth while pretending not to care.
Compared to the hard, tasteless bricks he usually got, this was another world entirely.
Buttery and soft, sweet even without jam.
After chewing for a while, Ranshel couldn’t hold back his curiosity anymore.
“If you were going to accept it anyway, why ask?”
“You looked way too happy.”
“…What?”
“You kept sighing the whole time in the carriage, but now here you are, smiling like an idiot over stew made with stinking, low-grade meat.”
So what? Ranshel furrowed his brow.
He’d been down in the carriage because Zavad had met Frey and fallen in love at first sight.
Now the stew was just… good.
That’s all there was to it.
‘Is he mad that I’m in a good mood?’
Seriously, what a messed-up personality…
Ranshel thought in awe as he finished the bread and opened his mouth again.
“I won’t smile when I eat stew anymore.”
But right now, he’d eaten bread—so smiling was still allowed!
Ranshel beamed.
Zavad tilted his head slightly, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
“…That’s the conclusion you came to?”
“…Then what was the actual problem?”
They stared at each other like they were seeing some kind of monster.
For once, they seemed to be thinking the exact same thing:
‘What a weirdo…’
Ranshel, now thirsty after stuffing himself with bread, drank Zavad’s juice too.
He hadn’t even asked—but Zavad, after giving him a long, exasperated stare, just handed it over.
May Zavad continue to be a picky eater forever.
Ranshel silently prayed and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“If you’re done eating, I’ll clean up.”
“…Sure, do whatever.”
Zavad waved a hand, as if even speaking more was a bother.
Ranshel cheerfully took the empty dishes back to the kitchen and returned to head upstairs.
He poked his head in the door.
“Can I go to my room now?”
“…No. Come in for a second.”
If they were still at the castle, this would be quitting time.
Ranshel pouted at the idea of unpaid overtime and stepped inside reluctantly.
“Still something left to do?”
“There’s something I want to tell you.”
Can’t this wait until tomorrow…?
Ranshel stifled a yawn and walked over to Zavad, who was perched on the bed.
“Sleepy now that you’re full?”
“It’s the law of nature… I can’t help it.”
“Don’t fall asleep standing and smash your head open—just lie here and listen.”
Zavad patted the bed. Ranshel glanced between his stiff mattress in his own room and the plush double-layered blankets here.
Without meaning to, he plopped down like he’d been hypnotized.
“You really don’t have an employer in the imperial capital, right?”
“…We’re still doing this?”
“You’re less likely to lie right now.”
Zavad even pulled the blanket up to cover Ranshel completely.
Feeling languid and drowsy, Ranshel blinked slowly.
“Why do you keep… asking that?”
“Mm, I’m trying to decide which spot to stab first when we get to the Imperial Castle.”
“If I… have a master, what difference does it make?”
“It makes a big difference. I’ll be starting there.”
Why there, of all places…?
Ranshel was too sleepy to think clearly.
Where could the young master be right now?
Even fully awake, he wouldn’t have been able to figure it out—but in this fog of sleep, it was hopeless.
The other brothers were probably off on their own missions somewhere, but still…
“He’s probably… not in the castle. I think…”
“Why so vague?”
“I don’t really know… those people, where they are…”
“…‘Those people’? You don’t know either?”
“No… I doubt they care much about me anyway…”
“…Really?”
Ugh, I can’t stay awake anymore.
His eyelids fluttered shut.
He couldn’t open them again.
He was so, so sleepy.
“…Then I guess it’s fine if I take you?”
Take what?
Ranshel mumbled, trying to ask, but sleep swallowed him whole.
‘This is insane. Did I really fall asleep like that?’
Ranshel had slept so soundly that his hair was a mess as he slowly looked around.
A young beauty sitting by the window was staring at him with visible disdain.
“A servant sleeping in later than his master—how impressive.”
Zavad sounded all too ready to scold him, but judging by the barely breaking dawn, it was still early morning.
Ranshel blinked, still half-asleep, and mumbled.
“It’s still dark out… Why are you awake already? No wonder you’re not growing.”
“Cheeky from the crack of dawn, huh? Must be brimming with energy. You itching to get to work?”
“Can’t you tell I didn’t sleep well and I’m exhausted…?”
Wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, Ranshel sluggishly got up.
No good could come from getting caught sleeping in the master’s room.
If he got back to his own room fast enough, he could destroy the evidence.
‘Why is he just sitting there, not sleeping?’
He must’ve found it disgusting to sleep next to a servant.
Then why let him sleep there in the first place?
What a strange young master.
Clicking his tongue, Ranshel rubbed his eyes with a sleeve.
“I’ll just go wash up first and come back….”
“At least open your eyes when you talk.”
There was a faint smile in Zavad’s voice, but it was unusually subdued—tired, even, like someone who hadn’t slept a wink.
‘Did he stay up all night?’
* * *
