* * *
Unbothered, Klen flopped back onto the sofa and crossed his legs, perfectly at ease.
His comfort was so contagious… I almost found myself copying him.
As expected, Klen was called away early again the next morning.
So early, in fact, that we couldn’t even share a meal.
His shoulders were noticeably slumped as he left the room — and it didn’t seem like he was just putting on a show.
Because of that, I ended up eating alone this morning.
As always, the table in the room was set with a generous spread.
What stood out most was the venison, marinated in various spices and grilled with garlic and onions.
There was also a thick-cut piece of fish, seemingly deep-fried in oil, enhanced with a unique sauce — an especially rich and flavorful dish.
It was quite a bit of food for one person, but my hands and mouth refused to stop.
‘Did I eat too much?’
In the end, I overate.
After I finished clearing the table, Linda came back to my side.
She had a smile on her face, but there was a hint of concern beneath it — likely because I’d eaten so well.
“Did it suit your taste?”
“It was delicious.”
“We received word that Lord Adrian had recovered, so the Berr family sent these over. They included many fresh and nourishing ingredients.”
“The Berr family… was it Sir Willoy or Miss Madeline who sent them?”
That explained the difference in taste.
Of course, all the ingredients used in the count’s household are of high quality.
But if someone took the trouble to send something special even by those standards, it meant they had gone out of their way to procure the very best.
‘Why would they do that?’
For people who didn’t exactly like me, they’d sent something unusually generous.
Maybe they hadn’t meant it for me — maybe it was really for Klen.
Willoy hadn’t done much to stand out recently, after all.
“And there’s also this.”
Linda placed a basket on the table.
When she pulled back the cloth covering it, an assortment of delicate cookies was revealed.
Beside them sat several tarts, among which the raspberry tart was particularly eye-catching.
“This was baked personally by Miss Madeline.”
My hand, which had been reaching toward the basket, suddenly froze.
The food from earlier had been cooked in the castle using the ingredients they sent.
But this… this was something homemade and personally delivered.
A forgotten fear surged up, silently creeping through me.
‘Poison… surely not.’
No, that’s impossible. It’s not the right time for that yet.
Besides, doing something like that with a gift from a known source would endanger her entire family.
It’s the kind of thing only someone with deep, murderous hatred would attempt.
And Madeline and I… we weren’t on such bad terms.
I gave my head a small shake.
Thinking like this was insulting to her.
Was I just startled by receiving a gift for the first time in a while?
Or maybe it was because Klen mentioned poison the other day.
My thoughts were veering too far into paranoia.
I moved my hand again.
This time, I naturally picked up the raspberry tart.
With one bite, the tangy sweetness of the raspberries and the crispness of the tart shell filled my mouth.
“Delicious.”
They say dessert goes to a separate stomach — and I could keep eating more.
“What would you like me to do?”
“Just leave a few here. I’ll have the rest with Klen later.”
“Understood.”
She pulled out a plate she’d brought and carefully arranged the cookies and tarts by type, placing them on the table in front of the sofa.
“I’ll bring some tea. Please wait a moment.”
Tea would definitely make them taste even better.
I sat on the sofa.
Leaning back against it the way Klen had done yesterday, I sank into its cushions.
Then, just for fun, I crossed my legs in a somewhat crooked position.
The moment made me chuckle.
It felt awkward — awkward, yet oddly comfortable.
If I got used to this feeling, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to return to my usual posture.
Maybe that’s why Klen preferred sitting like this.
Eventually, I quickly straightened up and sat properly, my back upright as I tossed a cookie into my mouth.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to relax like that from time to time.
“Wait, please!”
Just as I reached for another cookie, a loud voice came from beyond the door.
What had been a distant commotion grew louder until the door suddenly burst open.
There stood someone, panting heavily, long hair flying behind them.
Despite the dramatic entrance, the person stepped inside with a light greeting.
“I’m glad to see you well enough to be sitting on the sofa today.”
The faintly sarcastic tone belonged to none other than Elliot.
His disheveled appearance, as if he’d come running, reminded me of the first time we met.
“How long exactly was I supposed to wait?!”
His next words were harsh.
Not as if he was mocking me as a noble — more like he was determined to speak his mind, consequences be damned.
Linda and Vis moved swiftly to block him from coming further into the room, both bowing their heads toward me.
“We’re sorry. We told him now wasn’t a good time, but he insisted…”
“Just a moment of your time is all I need.”
Elliot didn’t look like he would back down quietly.
And I’m not the kind of person to hold a petty grudge for long.
I raised a hand to stop the two from restraining him.
“It’s fine. I’m feeling well enough right now, so I’ll hear him out. Please bring the tea.”
“…Understood.”
“Lord Adrian is still not fully recovered. Please be careful.”
Linda left quietly, but Vis shot Elliot a glare as he exited, clearly threatening: if anything goes wrong, I’m coming right back in.
Maybe he too had taken it personally that my request for a meeting was previously denied.
‘Still, he’s the commander of the Mage Corps.’
Could Vis really subdue him in a fight?
They say in a duel between sword and magic, the one who strikes first has the advantage.
But since he’s the head of the mage corps, Vis would likely be at a disadvantage.
If, by some chance, a fight did break out, I’d better step in to protect Vis.
‘How strong is the mage commander, anyway?’
I glanced toward where Levatein was, wondering what the best course of action would be in that kind of scenario.
Then I looked up.
“Sit.”
Despite the commotion he made just to get in here, he now stood awkwardly near the door.
I motioned toward the sofa, and he plopped down with a loud thump.
“I don’t remember receiving any formal request for a visit.”
“Didn’t you two also barge into the western tower without notice?”
His furrowed brow and irritated expression said everything.
He wasn’t even trying to hide his frustration.
Was he always this headstrong?
“…Yeah.”
He was.
This was exactly how he was — back then, too, he couldn’t hold back his frustration and ended up ranting about Klen.
Of course, he probably thought we wouldn’t hear him.
“Excuse me.”
Tea had already been brewing, so it was brought in quickly.
Linda entered the room quietly and placed cups before us.
The soothing aroma lightened the tension in the room just a bit.
As she politely bowed and stepped back, I caught her shooting Elliot a sideways glare.
I understood how she felt.
‘Still… she should be more careful.’
* * *
