* * *
Ranshel entered the room carrying a new tray.
Unlike before, the warmth from the freshly prepared dishes radiated through the tray.
‘If only this had come a little earlier, I could’ve fed this to Zavad and stolen more of the cold leftovers.’
Sighing in regret, Ranshel set the tray down on the table, just as he had before.
“Dinner’s here.”
“……”
Dinner was far more lavish than the breakfast-lunch hybrid Zavad had just devoured.
Ranshel, filled with envy and jealousy, found himself staring blankly out the window as the sun slowly began to set.
“Hey, you.”
“Oh my, have you already forgotten my name? Such a pity. What a tragic memory you have…”
“Ranshel, you bastard.”
“Please don’t just stick a last name onto me however you like. What do you want?”
“You’re seriously expecting me to eat again?”
Only then did Ranshel tear his gaze away from the window to look at Zavad.
The man was glaring at him with the same sharp intensity as before, his eyes practically searing into his skin.
“Are you scared there might be poison this time?”
“What?”
“Sigh, I guess there’s no choice. I’ll just have to taste it first again.”
‘Jackpot.’
Ranshel picked up the small spoon meant for adding seasonings.
He wasn’t using the big one—he had at least some conscience.
After all, there was proper etiquette when asking for a bite of someone else’s food.
Zavad frowned as he watched Ranshel.
“My stomach already feels like it’s about to burst. How am I supposed to eat more?”
The spoon heading for the moist rice pudding came to a halt.
His excitement immediately dampened.
That was not something he could just let slide.
With a hardened expression, Ranshel spoke.
“Young master, are you joking right now?”
“…What?”
“You’ve only eaten one tray worth of food. That was barely a single serving.”
“What the hell are you saying? I ate everything on the tray, not just a single plate.”
“Yes, but still, just one tray—!”
His fingers trembled at the sheer audacity of such a statement.
How dare someone in their prime growth years eat so little?
“…I guess I have no choice. I’ll eat a bit more on your behalf.”
Was that anticipation he felt?
Ranshel slyly pushed the small spoon toward Zavad and pulled the big spoon toward himself.
“Honestly, you act like a five-year-old. Where did all your years go?”
“……”
Zavad once again looked at him as if he were some kind of demon.
But when food was on the line, such things were irrelevant.
Ranshel’s gaze swept over the tray.
Tonight’s main dish was seafood instead of meat.
He hesitated, debating what to eat first, before his eyes landed on a bowl at the edge of the table—clam chowder.
The sight of the rich, creamy broth made his mouth water.
Just as he was about to take a large spoonful, he froze.
Something thick and long, like a severed noodle, dangled from the spoon.
It was slightly round at the end… and wriggled a little.
“…Oh. A worm.”
“……!”
CRASH!
Zavad’s chair screeched back violently and toppled over.
Ranshel blinked in surprise.
“Young master, are you—? No, I mean, why are you knocking over furniture and scaring people?”
He had instinctively started to ask if Zavad was okay but quickly corrected himself and observed the man carefully.
Thankfully—or perhaps not—Zavad didn’t seem to have the luxury of paying attention to anything Ranshel said.
“…What the hell is that?”
Zavad staggered back, his face drained of all color.
His trembling gaze was locked onto the spoon.
He looked so pale that he seemed ready to pass out at any moment.
‘…Has he never seen a worm before?’
His face had gone completely pale, as if he had just encountered a monster.
This was no ordinary reaction. If he tripped and cracked the back of his head, that would be a real problem.
To reassure Zavad, Ranshel began to calmly explain.
“This is called an earthworm. Um, it’s long and wriggly. It usually lives underground, but when it rains, it comes out and crawls around.”
“No….”
“There’s a really big flowerbed in the garden, right? You should go check it out. After it rains, these things will be squirming all over the place.”
“……Ugh!”
Zavad clamped his hand over his mouth, gagging.
Startled, Ranshel took a step closer, still holding the spoon with the worm on it.
The worm, dangling precariously, suddenly plopped onto the floor.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting…!”
Zavad, his face deathly pale, stumbled backward before collapsing onto the ground.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up. How could that be in food….”
“Oh? That’s what this is about?”
Ranshel finally realized what was going on and felt a little dumbfounded.
‘Is this really something to freak out over?’
Foreign objects in food weren’t uncommon.
Cha Eunseong could eat his meal unfazed even while surrounded by cockroaches.
No matter what he saw mixed in with his rice, it never fazed him.
As long as it was removed, the food was still food.
Sure, a worm on a spoon wasn’t as common as a stray pebble or an unidentifiable bug in the rice, but it was the same principle.
Just take it out and keep eating.
The guy might not be a noble’s son on paper, but his weak stomach sure screamed aristocrat.
‘Looks like I’ll be eating his dinner too.’
But first, he had to calm the terrified brat down.
Ranshel set the spoon on the table and turned to check on Zavad—when suddenly, a system notification popped up.
[Contribution has changed.]
Here? Now? Ranshel quickly checked his status.
[Event Contribution]
The One Who Keeps You Awake= 6▷8%
The Most Villainous = 0% ]
Ranshel rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
That insomnia-whatever had been at 6%, but now it had jumped up by 2%.
Had another villain already stolen 8% of his contribution?
And 3% of that had risen just today, right in front of him.
‘That damn insomniac bastard. Unacceptable.’
Ranshel, visibly annoyed, crouched down. He reached out and picked up the wriggling worm with two fingers.
Zavad remained frozen, his hand still pressed over his mouth, like a statue.
Ranshel casually dangled the still-moving worm and spoke.
“Looks like this didn’t just end up in there by accident, huh?”
“…….”
“It’s still alive, so it must’ve been added well after the cooking was done. It didn’t even get boiled.”
“……Ugh.”
“That means it wasn’t the chef. Then who could it be? A maid carrying the tray? No, that would be too obvious.”
Ranshel stared at the stiffened Zavad and asked deliberately.
“You wouldn’t happen to know who the culprit is, would you?”
He made a point of swinging the worm side to side. Zavad flinched.
‘You know, don’t you?’
Spit it out already.
‘Who’s stealing my contribution?’
Ranshel narrowed his eyes.
He needed to track down this villain as soon as possible.
Now that he had seen the numbers rising in real-time, he couldn’t afford to sit back and watch.
And for that, he needed Zavad’s cooperation.
The guy clearly knew more than Ranshel did—he just had to talk.
* * *
