* * *
The soldiers all turned away, pretending to clean their ears like they hadn’t heard anything.
Ranshel was so dumbfounded the anger drained from him.
Zavad, too, seemed to deflate.
He glanced at Ranshel, muttered something under his breath, and then collapsed into his sleeping bag.
Ranshel frowned slightly, tilting his head.
‘Wait… did he just say sorry?’
No way.
With a dry chuckle, Ranshel sighed over how his night vision was already shot from exhaustion.
He took a bowl of stew, handed it to Petro, and set off to do his job.
No matter how he felt, the work still had to get done.
He brought over Zavad’s portion first, but Zavad didn’t even open his eyes.
“I’m tired. I’m sleeping. You eat it.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Ranshel didn’t bother offering again.
When it came to sharing food, the first offer was duty, the second was courtesy, and the third… well, the third was something else entirely.
Once was enough for Zavad.
Ranshel was just doing his job now.
He didn’t care to be loyal, and there were no feelings left anyway.
He must be hungry.
Stupid brat.
What good was being literate when you couldn’t even manage to eat properly?
‘Stupid young master. Dumb noble.’
Ranshel thought Zavad was pathetic.
Then again, so was he.
What was he doing, getting all worked up over a kid?
Sure, Zavad was the antagonist here, so it wasn’t like Ranshel had to be nice—but still, the kid shouldn’t go on skipping dinner like this.
Come to think of it, even at the inn, he’d barely nibbled a biscuit, claiming he hated the smell of lamb.
And during the day, all he’d had was a bit of jerky…
Tossing and turning, Ranshel finally sat upright.
It was the middle of the night, and the forest was quiet except for the occasional chirping of insects.
Ranshel moved swiftly and silently so as not to wake the others as he went about what he needed to do.
Then, he gently nudged Zavad, who was curled tightly in his sleeping bag.
“…Young Master.”
Zavad’s eyes snapped open like he hadn’t slept a wink.
“You… why are you…?”
“Shh.”
Ranshel pressed a finger to his lips.
Though clearly annoyed, Zavad followed Ranshel’s silent gestures without complaint.
Ranshel led him past the sleeping squad members to a large tree root some distance away.
There, resting over a small stone hearth, a well-roasted rabbit, perfectly prepared, gave off a savory aroma.
Zavad let out a breathy laugh of disbelief.
“Middle of the night, and this… Where the hell did you get a rabbit?”
He’d hunted it himself, of course.
Assassins, silent and quick, shared more in common with hunters than people thought.
But Ranshel had no intention of revealing his skills and inviting suspicion.
“Everyone asked me to make sure you got something to eat. They said they were worried because you haven’t been eating well.”
“…So you came because they asked you to?”
Zavad stiffened, his face going cold, and turned to leave.
Panicked, Ranshel grabbed at the hem of Zavad’s pants with both hands.
Zavad flinched and stopped.
“I even made sure it wouldn’t smell, got herbs from Petro and everything… I worked really hard on it…”
“…”
“…Are you really not going to eat?”
To prevent a growing boy from falling into malnutrition, he’d forgone sleep in the middle of the night to cook—only to be told it wouldn’t be eaten?
Ranshel really had only planned to offer twice. Just twice.
It wasn’t an obligation, but it was a matter of loyalty.
After all, hadn’t they promised to help each other?
A third time—he really wasn’t going to do it.
After that, he’d just leave him be.
Let him go hungry, for all he cared.
Ranshel was clutching the fine hem of Zavad’s pants, gripping tightly as if he had no intention of letting go.
It was his way of holding up his end of the agreement they had made, a show of loyalty.
“…Alright, alright. Let go, will you?”
Feeling Zavad’s body finally relax, Ranshel released his hand.
Then he brushed out the wrinkles from the pants he’d just crumpled.
After all, tending to the young master’s clothes was part of a servant’s duty.
Zavad sat down, but didn’t show any sign of moving his hands.
His disinterested expression made it clear he wasn’t in the best mood.
He already had a small appetite, and now, having been woken up in the middle of the night, there was no way he’d feel like eating.
Ranshel, on the other hand, would start salivating at the mere smell of meat, whether it was noon or dawn—but kids like Zavad often fussed over food.
He could understand that, at least to a degree.
Of course, understanding it didn’t mean he accepted it.
They were about to waste precious meat, and for what?
Instead of waiting forever for Zavad to pick up his fork, Ranshel acted first.
He picked up the grilled meat with his own fork and brought it to Zavad’s lips.
“…What are you doing?”
“Ah, say ah.”
“What?”
“I said open your mouth.”
“……”
Zavad looked both baffled and exasperated, opening his mouth only after the meat had nearly stuck to his lips.
Ranshel, moving his wrist with practiced ease, fed the meat into Zavad’s mouth and picked up the next piece.
He pushed the meat arranged in the center of the grill toward the edge and flipped it at the right moment.
As soon as Zavad swallowed the piece, Ranshel was already bringing another forkful to his mouth.
Zavad, who had accepted a few bites out of surprise, began to realize Ranshel had no intention of stopping until the grill was empty.
Eventually, he put his foot down.
“Ranshel.”
“You’re not about to say you’re full, are you?”
“…I’ll eat on my own.”
“Nope. If I leave you to it, you’ll just sit there chewing one piece until morning.”
Ranshel had long since figured out Zavad’s eating habits.
That sort of thing is hard to miss when you’re serving someone every day.
Zavad glanced at Ranshel’s firm expression, then suddenly smiled sweetly with his eyes.
“Ranshel.”
“…Yes?”
“You lit the fire, scented it with herbs… You must’ve worked hard to cook this.”
“Well, I mean, it wasn’t that difficult…”
“Still, after putting in all that effort, don’t you think you should at least try some yourself?”
Zavad was being too gentle.
Ranshel had known he was trying something the moment he said his name like that.
By now, Ranshel understood Zavad fairly well.
And probably, Zavad knew Ranshel just as much.
With a flutter of long lashes and those crimson eyes narrowing ever so slightly… he knew Ranshel would give in.
“What kind of face is that, seriously…”
Ranshel thought, stuffing his mouth full of meat until his cheeks puffed out.
He had wanted to eat anyway, and since Zavad was offering, he just decided to go with it.
It wasn’t like he was the kind of fool who’d give in just because someone smiled at him prettily.
The rabbit meat wasn’t much in quantity anyway, so the plan was to feed it all to Zavad.
It was a shame that didn’t work out, but since he got him to eat half, that was still a win.
And with Ranshel finishing the rest, well—how ideal for two contract-bound companions.
* * *
