* * *
Seeing the lavish meal laid out in front of him, Joel suddenly realized how hungry he was.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a proper breakfast in his rush to leave.
He sat down and began shoving food into his mouth in a frenzy.
Only after eating for a while did he finally notice—Robert had been the one serving him the whole time.
Robert had sliced the thick ham and tucked it neatly into bread, picked the meat off the turkey leg, and even handed him cool juice at just the right moment.
While Joel devoured nearly half of the food, Robert barely ate a bite, too busy waiting on him.
“…Aren’t you going to eat?”
Joel asked awkwardly, feeling a little embarrassed.
“You think I’d steal food from a pregnant man? I’ll have you know I’m a gynecologist. You’re not alone anymore—eat properly.”
Joel felt a wave of shame crash over him.
He wasn’t some starving beggar, so why did he always lose all sense of dignity in front of food?
In his past life, even after going through so much hunger, he’d never acted this disgracefully.
But ever since returning to this life, he found himself losing control around food.
He felt so disgusted with himself, tears began to well up.
“…I don’t know why it’s so hard to control my appetite.”
“It’s probably morning sickness. You’re about two months along now, so you’re at that stage.”
“Morning sickness? Isn’t that when just seeing food makes you want to vomit?”
“It depends on the person. Some people get nauseous and can’t eat, just like you said. But others can’t stop themselves from eating. Some even develop intense cravings for specific foods.”
As Robert calmly explained, Joel felt his tears recede.
He’d assumed it was from starvation—but if it was because of the baby, a natural response, then it was a relief.
Joel was about to pick up another sandwich, but Robert suddenly snatched it out of his hands.
“That’s enough. Time to get up.”
“Why?! I can still eat!”
“You’ve had enough for three people. We have a long ride ahead in the carriage. What if you get sick? There’ll be plenty of delicious food later. Just stop for now.”
With a stern tone, Robert even took away the silverware in front of Joel.
He began tidying up with a composed expression, but when he saw how dejected Joel looked beside him, he sighed.
“…Fine. One more slice of ham. Just one.”
He reluctantly handed back a fork.
After lunch, the Crown Prince’s party was swiftly making their way to Lord Bennet’s territory.
Inside the newly departed carriage, the Crown Prince helped Joel lean back comfortably—and then began massaging his feet.
Joel tried to pull away, annoyed, but after a few persistent presses along pressure points, he was soon dozing off.
“…I said I’m fine. Why do you keep doing this…”
Joel mumbled with half-closed eyes, clearly bothered but not entirely displeased.
The Crown Prince just smiled gently.
He didn’t say anything, thinking Joel might get embarrassed—but the truth was, Robert had quietly advised him to be extra careful since Joel had slightly overeaten.
Massaging the hands and feet was also Robert’s idea.
The Crown Prince was quite pleased that the food he had carefully selected matched Joel’s tastes.
As far as he could tell, Joel seemed to have rather picky eating habits.
Joel liked greasy and spicy foods, but oddly enough, he ate very little.
At banquets, if he picked up a couple of pieces of meat, that was considered a lot for him.
On the first day, he’d even rejected the pigeon meat, so there had been concern over whether the meals would suit his taste.
It was a relief—more than that, a small miracle—that he had eaten so well.
As the Crown Prince massaged Joel’s feet, he was once again struck by how thin Joel was.
The bones on the top of his feet were so pronounced that it was difficult to apply any pressure.
He felt as though pressing too hard might shatter them.
The Crown Prince made a firm decision to be more attentive to Joel’s nourishment from now on.
With that thought in mind, he diligently worked on Joel’s frail hands and feet.
Even after Joel had dozed off, the prince’s devoted massage continued.
Meanwhile, as the Crown Prince’s party made their way through the forest—
A secretive conversation was taking place in the study of Lord Bennet’s estate.
“You may leave now. Go fetch Tom.”
“Yes, High Priest John.”
Once the spy finished reporting on the Crown Prince’s movements and respectfully withdrew, the man referred to as “High Priest John” curled his lips into a meaningful smile.
He sat as if he owned the place, comfortably occupying the large desk meant for official business.
Though this shabby study had once belonged to Lord Bennet, it was wholly unsuited to John’s refined tastes.
He had always indulged in an extravagantly luxurious lifestyle.
For now, he had to make do, but he wasn’t too displeased—soon enough, he would enjoy the same decadence and pleasure above ground that he had once known beneath it.
Not long after the spy exited, a small, frail-looking man entered the study and stood with deference before High Priest John.
John looked at him with a gentle smile.
“Tom, what is Lord Bennet up to?”
“My lord—oh, I mean, Lord Bennet is preparing for the festival with the people of the domain, full of gratitude for Your Grace’s kindness. The preparations for the festival you commanded are nearly complete, so there’s no need for concern.”
Though Lord Bennet had long since surrendered his title and loyally pledged himself to John, Tom—out of old habit—had mistakenly addressed him as “lord” again.
He flinched, nervously watching John for a reaction.
Having once experienced the overwhelming power of the High Priest firsthand, Tom couldn’t help but revere him.
Fortunately for Tom, John didn’t seem particularly offended.
“Good, good. We mustn’t be lacking in hospitality, especially with the Crown Prince himself visiting.”
Pleased with Tom’s answer, John nodded with satisfaction.
Stroking his gray beard as if deep in thought, he then gestured for Tom to come closer.
With a visibly anxious expression, Tom stepped forward.
“Now, Tom. I trust you remember how I healed your legs.”
John lowered his voice into an intimate whisper.
“Of course. How could I ever forget Your Grace’s mercy?”
Tom bowed deeply in a groveling manner.
A flicker of contempt crossed John’s face for the briefest moment—but with his head bowed, Tom didn’t notice.
“Then, as I told you before, you must now go and welcome our guest.”
“P-pardon? But, Your Grace…”
Tom hesitated, a look of pleading crossing his face as though to ask, ‘Must I really?’
But the moment he did, John’s expression turned cold.
“Are you defying me now? Were your tears of gratitude and your oaths of eternal loyalty all lies? If you wish to return to the miserable cripple you once were, by all means—act as you please!”
“N-no, I’ll do as you command.”
“Hmph. Then don’t delay. Go and receive the Crown Prince’s party without fail.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Tom retreated nervously, leaving behind a heavy silence in the study.
Alone now, lost in his thoughts, John turned his gaze to the hourglass sitting in the corner of the desk.
The golden sand, which he had personally filled with joy three months ago, had significantly diminished.
Only a teaspoon’s worth, perhaps, remained in the upper half.
Smiling to himself, John murmured softly:
“One month. Just one month…”
According to the spy, the Crown Prince had planned a month-long inspection tour.
As John recalled the report, a faint smirk appeared on his lips.
It amused him—how a fragile human being, unable to guarantee even his own safety tomorrow, could be so arrogant as to believe he’d still be around a month from now.
Did Crown Prince Carlyle even realize?
That he didn’t have nearly as much time left as he thought?
John had upheld his end of the bargain.
Now it was Carlyle’s turn.
And the moment that last grain of sand slipped through the glass, the Crown Prince would pay the price.
John was very much looking forward to that moment.
Leaning back into his plush chair, he closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to drift toward that day—the day he would claim his due.
The fantasy he had replayed in his mind thousands of times over the past three months had yet to lose its shine.
He was so giddy with anticipation, it felt as though he might not be able to wait for the sand to run out.
* * *
