* * *
Ranshel trailed off and shut his mouth.
He had gone to gather firewood, only to find Zavad missing.
So he’d set off to find him, but ended up veering off course…
And now Zavad was already here, seated with Petro.
So Zavad hadn’t been off doing his business—he’d been looking for Petro.
But when Petro wasn’t with Ranshel, the two had returned together.
‘Did he really come find Petro himself because he was afraid I was trying to cozy up and get my hands on the inheritance?’
Ranshel almost choked in disbelief.
He parted his lips, then stuck them out in a pout.
Sure, he’d always gone on about how money was everything, like some penny-pinching shopkeeper—but did Zavad really have that little trust in him?
Did he seriously think Ranshel would kill someone for an inheritance?
Or maybe he just didn’t like seeing Petro getting close to him.
Maybe the idea of a servant—one who was practically family—getting friendly with some no-good rascal didn’t sit well with him.
‘Not that I plan to bond with Petro,’ Ranshel thought bitterly.
‘I can’t forgive someone who’d consider killing a child just because he reminds him of his dead son.’
But Zavad kept interfering so much it was starting to get under his skin.
‘What if I do get close enough to Petro to be left an inheritance, huh?’
Zavad frowned as he noticed Ranshel standing frozen.
“You too? What?”
“…I went looking for Lord Petro but, um, got distracted by the food.”
Ranshel plopped down next to Petro.
Not just near him—right next to him, close enough to place a hand on his shoulder.
Zavad’s expression visibly stiffened.
So did Petro’s, as if wondering what this strange boy was up to now.
“Petro, where are you sleeping tonight?”
“…Obviously somewhere around here. Near the young master.”
“Me too! Guess we’re on the same wavelength!”
“Well, yeah, we’re both serving the young master so…”
“In that case, Petro, tomorrow we should—”
“Ranshel.”
Zavad cut in, ending the absurd exchange.
Ranshel glared at him in defiance.
“What? What is it this time?”
“So you found this skewer while ‘looking’ for Petro?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why did it take so long? Where else did you go in the meantime?”
Why the third degree again? Ranshel was getting irritated.
“I don’t have to report my every movement to you, do I?”
Zavad let out a breath.
His voice had been cooler than usual for a while now.
“Why don’t you? You’re my personal servant. Looking after me is your duty. If you leave me behind, it’s only natural you report what you were doing.”
“…”
He wasn’t wrong.
Ranshel decided to just answer honestly.
He hadn’t done anything shameful—trying to lie would only cause more trouble.
“I just wandered a bit… Talked to someone.”
“Who?”
“Brought the meat over… A guy named Hans grilled the quail for you.”
“…And what about it?”
Zavad’s gaze grew even colder.
Ranshel couldn’t understand why being honest was only making him angrier.
“He’s just… hardworking. He takes care of his widowed mother.”
“So?”
“…He seems like a good person?”
“Good how? What’s so good about him?”
“I mean, working hard for his elderly mom—that’s admirable, isn’t it?”
“Your standards for people are impressive.”
Why? Why was he getting angrier and angrier?
Wasn’t he even mocking him just now?
Ranshel thought the young master was really acting strange today.
What exactly was he so upset about? Why was he grilling him over every little thing?
Sure, the Petro thing he could understand… maybe.
But did Zavad really hate the idea of Ranshel being on friendly terms with anyone during the journey?
Zavad clenched his fist like he was holding something back as he looked at Ranshel, whose lips moved soundlessly, stunned into silence.
Then, he let his hand fall and dropped the skewer he was holding to the ground.
To top it off, he stepped on it so Ranshel couldn’t even retrieve it.
Ranshel’s jaw nearly unhinged.
Did… did a skewer of precious quail meat really just get smashed into the dirt right in front of his eyes?
“…W-what… just…”
“What? That Hans guy grilled it for me, right? Don’t tell me it was for you?”
“Well, yes, but… if you’re not going to eat it, can’t I at least—”
“It was in my hands. That means I get to decide what happens to it. Whether I give my scraps to a dog or not, that’s my choice.”
“…”
Wait. Ranshel slowly tilted his head.
‘Did he just call me a dog?’
So all this time, when Ranshel had been quietly dealing with Zavad’s leftovers, Zavad thought of it as throwing scraps to a mutt?
That’s why he kept comparing him to a dog back at the inn too…?
His insides felt like they were going cold.
Whether it was rage or humiliation, he didn’t know, but his head burned hot.
He thought he’d long given up on pride—but maybe, just maybe, he still wanted to preserve a shred of dignity.
Watching that rare, expensive meat get tossed onto the dirt was maddening in itself—but what really cut deep was the contempt in Zavad’s tone, the way he looked down on him.
Ranshel’s head buzzed like it was boiling.
As Ranshel stood there speechless, Zavad twisted his foot until the meat beneath his sole was unrecognizable.
“It worked out, didn’t it? You get to serve your mother now. That’s more than I’ve got. Stop clinging to someone else’s servant and go live your life properly.”
Ranshel barely held back the fury welling up inside him.
“You’re saying I’m better off than someone who’s waited on hand and foot his whole life?”
“Waited on? You saw what my life in that castle looked like and you still think that?”
Zavad’s voice was low and bitter, almost chewed through gritted teeth.
Ranshel faltered for a moment—he couldn’t help remembering the first night he’d seen Zavad, tucked away like furniture in that storage room.
Really, the boy hadn’t changed.
He was still that small, young kid.
The only thing that had changed was his determination to move forward.
“What, now that I’m out of that room, I look like I’m living easy? Do you want me to cry a little so you’ll finally treat me like a person? Is your pity that damn precious? Does it even deserve to be?”
But that moment of hesitation didn’t last long. Ranshel had reached his limit.
“Well, of course my feelings must be worthless to someone like you. I’d be better off worrying about Hans’s future than wasting them on you.”
“And how the hell do you always end up with that conclusion? Did he promise you money too? That guy had to beg me to get you a job—what kind of money could he even have? Whatever crap he fed you, you’re falling for it. You’re just too dumb to know when you’re being scammed. Got that?”
“Don’t speak like that! Do you think I’m the kind of person who’ll sell out for a bit of cash? You don’t know anything about me!”
“Then explain! You want me to understand you when you never say a damn thing? What do you even want from me?! What’s in your heart, huh?!”
Their voices rose, sharp and heated.
The other squad members began glancing over in confusion.
They couldn’t hear the words clearly, but anyone could tell: a servant shouting back at his young master like that was not normal.
Someone should probably step in and stop that insolent servant, right?
Just as everyone was hesitating, Petro—caught awkwardly between the two—suddenly turned ghost-pale and shouted:
“Don’t fight with this old man stuck between you!”
‘Don’t fight… Don’t fight…’
His voice echoed through the dark forest, where night had already fallen.
“….”
Silence fell instantly.
* * *
