* * *
“No wonder people treat me like a scrap-cleaning dog.”
Always doing what he’s told, giving in without a fight.
Zavad probably couldn’t find an easier target if he tried.
Ranshel chewed the meat with determination, trying to smother his rising self-loathing with the taste.
Whatever Zavad thought of him, it wasn’t something worth getting hurt over.
As long as they each got what they needed from this arrangement, that was enough.
They weren’t exchanging hearts, so what was there to feel bad about?
As Ranshel kept eating in silence, Zavad watched him quietly before speaking out of the blue.
“Have you fed people often before?”
“…Huh?”
“You do it so naturally. I’m not a helpless baby, but you even blew on it to cool it down before putting it in my mouth. It can’t have been your first time.”
“Oh, well… I do have some experience.”
He had, after all, practically raised his younger sister on his back.
As Ranshel answered casually, Zavad’s eyebrow twitched.
“So… have other people fed you often, too?”
“Uh… that, I’m not sure. I don’t remember. Maybe? I don’t think so?”
Most meals were rushed affairs, crammed down in under five minutes when he barely had time to sit.
Naturally, he’d become a fast eater. It’s not like he had the luxury of someone feeding him at leisure.
Zavad’s eyes gleamed as he watched Ranshel shrug indifferently.
Then he glanced at the grill, now with only one piece of meat left, and picked it up with the fork he’d been holding like an ornament.
“Oh, are you going to eat more?”
Ranshel was pleasantly surprised.
Zavad had always shoved the plate away even when food was offered right under his nose, so he must really be worn out from the journey to the capital.
But instead of eating it, Zavad just kept sneaking glances at Ranshel with the fork still in hand.
Ranshel, who was now well on his way to becoming a top-tier servant, immediately understood.
“Ah… he’s embarrassed people might think he’s greedy for the last piece.”
Typical noble young master—so many little things to fuss over.
Come to think of it, the earlier question about whether Ranshel had fed others before must’ve come from bruised pride too.
Well, he wasn’t a baby, and yet someone had been feeding him piece after piece.
That would be a bit humiliating.
Nobles like Zavad were probably raised to care a lot about dining etiquette, right?
Ranshel decided to spare this proud young man’s feelings.
So the moment Zavad subtly held out the fork in his direction, Ranshel quickly stood up.
“I’m going to clear the fire, so eat it before it gets cold.”
If he stayed nearby, Zavad would just keep being self-conscious.
Ranshel, now admiring his own competence as if he were a senior servant, busied himself cleaning up the grill and putting out the fire.
Zavad stared at his back for a while before sighing and finally eating the meat.
“Shall we turn in? We’ve got an early start again tomorrow.”
“….”
‘Why does he look upset again?’
Ranshel tilted his head, confused as he watched Zavad chew the meat like it was a rubber band.
Really, he was such a difficult master to please.
After confirming Zavad made it to his spot, Ranshel returned to his own and lay down in his sleeping bag.
Next to it, he placed a container filled with rabbit blood.
He wasn’t skilled enough to skin the rabbit properly, but he had managed to save a bit of the blood.
Petro had asked him to try bringing some back if possible.
He could always claim he got it from someone else’s hunt later.
“Not sure what he needs it for, though…”
Probably something to do with the medicine for Doter that Petro had been working on.
Ranshel drifted off to sleep, nose twitching at the lingering scent of grilled meat on his clothes.
The next day, just before sunset, the group arrived at the mansion of the Vanders Viscount family.
“It is an honor beyond words to offer even a modest aid on your journey.”
The viscount said, bowing deeply with his hands clasped together.
Zavad smiled gently, placing a hand to his chest and giving a graceful nod.
“The House of Pomel will not forget the support of the Vanders family.”
“It is we who should be grateful. I only regret not being able to offer accommodations more worthy of your station.”
The middle-aged man bowed again, this time nearly touching his forehead to his thigh.
Zavad answered with nothing more than a flicker of his gaze.
Age didn’t matter.
Even among nobles, the difference in status between the two was like heaven and earth.
“Unbelievable. Truly.”
Ranshel barely held back a laugh as he bowed his head next to Zavad.
Just like Petro had drilled into him, he avoided even making eye contact with the viscount.
If they were heaven and earth, Ranshel was probably something that lived underground, digging tunnels like a mole.
And yet, there was a strange feeling stirring inside him.
Though Zavad had escaped the threats of his former enemies after leaving the castle, it was ultimately the Pomel family’s prestige that now shielded him in the outside world.
For now, the fact that he was the Emperor’s illegitimate son mattered less than the status he was born with.
After all, he hadn’t yet earned any real position within the Imperial family.
He was merely surviving—like a tool that had yet to prove its usefulness.
So unless Zavad gained influence within the Imperial Court, he would never escape Duke Fomel’s grasp.
He had succeeded in gaining admission to Delta Seminary, but upon graduation, he would be forced to return to the castle.
It was only a temporary solution.
‘…What’s he planning?’
Ranshel was curious about what Zavad had in mind.
As of now, Zavad still didn’t trust Ranshel enough to reveal his true intentions.
In truth, even Petro didn’t fully know what Zavad was thinking.
For now, they were just acting as his escort.
Their role was to accompany Zavad wherever he went and ensure his safety.
‘Well, I guess this kind of distance is appropriate for a contractual relationship.’
As long as they did what was needed when the time came, that would be enough.
“If you ever need help, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“Thank you.”
Ranshel gave a polite bow to the maid who had shown him the way and closed the door.
Compared to the duke’s estate, this manor was rather modest, but it was still a noble residence, so the building was quite spacious.
Since everyone was given their own room, Ranshel too had a room to himself.
That seemed to be because the noble they served held such a high status.
As his assigned attendant, Ranshel’s room was placed next to Zavad’s, and Petro’s was beside his.
The rest of the escort each had a room as well.
In other words, everyone had the freedom to act independently.
After briefly scanning the room and noting the placement of furniture, Ranshel made his way to Petro’s room.
“If we’re going to act, it has to be today.”
“Yeah. I’ve more or less figured out the ingredients in the drug.”
Seriously?
Ranshel was amazed.
He knew Petro, as a cultivator, had analysis-based skills useful for identifying ideal soil and plant species, but he hadn’t expected they could be used this way.
By breaking down the ingredients of the drug, they might uncover clues about the person behind it.
Ranshel’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“What’s in it? Tell me everything, one by one!”
“Uh… hmm…”
But Petro, who had been sitting upright with a confident expression, suddenly averted his gaze and mumbled,
“…A bunch of stuff.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Just… a bunch of things. And, uh, the demonic herb Merk.”
“…I see!”
So it’s only things related to plants and flowers he can recognize… Ranshel decided not to poke the old man’s pride by pointing out that he probably didn’t know anything beyond Merk.
* * *
