Keeping the Yandere Duke in check chapter 54

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Staring at Hernan’s perfectly polished face, I suddenly remembered the question that had been nagging me earlier in the day.

What does this guy even like?

Not that I planned on doing anything with that information, but when I asked the chef, the answer was unexpected.

‘I don’t know.’

I thought perhaps Hernan had instructed them not to tell me, but after pressing for more details, it became clear.

It wasn’t a lie to hide something from me.

They genuinely didn’t know.

Hernan always emptied his plates, no matter what was served, so the chef had no idea what he preferred.

Apparently, before he became the sole heir after his brothers’ deaths, he was so inconspicuous that people sometimes forgot he even lived in the house.

“So how did he eat as a child?” I asked, still confused, and the chef stammered a response.

“Most likely, Emma took care of his meals.”

Emma, it turned out, was an old maid who had cleaned Hernan’s room before he went to the battlefield.

She wasn’t someone with any suspicious connection to him, just an elderly woman who retired and returned to her hometown not long after Hernan left for the front.

An illegitimate child, practically invisible in his own home, who ended up the last surviving heir—what a tragic backstory, perfect for a romance novel’s male lead.

But in this world, it was just another flaw for others to criticize.

Naturally, you’d expect him to meet a female lead and live happily ever after.

But why was I being dragged into this mess…?

I bit my lip and hesitantly spoke.

“Let’s say, hypothetically.”

“Yes?”

Hernan answered before I could finish, which made me frown.

“Could you at least let me finish my sentence first?”

“Of course.”

He nodded with a smile, clearly suppressing laughter at my sharp retort.

“Let’s say the duke had to go to a deserted island.”

“I’m not sure why we’re imagining that, but alright.”

“Geez…”

I shot him a look, and Hernan turned his head, his shoulders shaking as if he were holding back laughter.

“You can only take one type of food with you. What would it be?”

By the time I finally got the question out, I felt ridiculous.

What was so important about his favorite food that I had to go through all this trouble to ask?

While I pondered how foolish I was being, Hernan responded.

“Does it have to be food?””

“Then it’s food, obviously. If you were curious about something else, you would’ve asked about that, wouldn’t you?” I struggled to suppress the irritation brewing inside as I answered.

“Yes.”

“Then…”

Hernan pondered for a long moment, and the answer he finally came up with was nothing short of absurd.

“I’ll take the same thing as you.”

“What?”

I asked what you wanted to take, so why are you giving me such a nonsensical response?

“No, I was asking what you would want to take, not me.”

“Yes, and what I want to take is exactly the same.”

“But you’re the one going to the deserted island alone.”

I squinted up at him with suspicion, and Hernan’s lips twitched as he replied.

“I don’t know why you’re insisting on sending me off to a deserted island alone, but I don’t think my answer would change either way.”

Why are you outsourcing your food preferences to me?

Sure, some people might like a handsome man who’s all looks and no opinions, but does he really need to be this clueless about his own favorite food?

Feeling stubborn, I decided to change the question.

“Fine, let me ask you something else. What’s the one food that always makes you overeat?”

Most people have at least one food that they lose control with and end up eating too much of.

For me, it’s figs.

I could eat three times the amount of figs that others would manage, though I couldn’t say the same for other fruits.

‘That cake, though—that was a different story.’

It’s rare for anyone to refuse a food they love, especially when it’s something brought from their hometown.

I was no exception.

My thoughts drifted for a moment, but I was determined to get a proper answer this time.

As if sensing my resolve, Hernan hesitated briefly before speaking.

“Cookies, I suppose.”

Cookies? I raised an eyebrow, doubting my ears.

“Cookies?”

Was there some other dish or ingredient called “cookies”?

Or maybe it was a northern slang term?

All sorts of wild thoughts ran through my mind before Hernan elaborated.

“Yes, thick like bread with a soft center, and a sprinkle of coconut flakes on top. I like them sweet—maybe too sweet, so it’d be better to cut back on the sugar a bit.”

He sounded like he was describing something he’d eaten before.

Perhaps his maid, Emma, had given them to him?

The description seemed more fitting for a child’s snack, so I nodded, understanding.

“You must really like sweet things.”

His answer, however, was still frustratingly evasive.

“Maybe.”

Finally, at nine o’clock, I all but shoved Hernan out of the room, wrapped myself in my blanket, and lay down.

I’d eaten so much delicious food that my stomach still felt full.

A walk would’ve been nice to help with digestion, but if I got caught, who knows what kind of nagging I’d have to endure from Hernan again.

‘Last time, he caught me the moment I tried to step out into the hallway and practically shoved me back into bed…’

I wasn’t wondering how his ears could be that sharp.

No, what I was really wondering was… could I get a break from this help?

I sighed, picturing his amber eyes glinting, glowing like a dragon’s.

Wasn’t he going to pop out again and nag me about complaining behind his back?

But surprisingly, the dragon said nothing.

‘What the…?’

Maybe I was worrying too much.

I snuggled deeper under the covers and tried to sleep.

As I listened to the wind rattling the snow-laden pine trees outside, my mind drifted to all sorts of idle thoughts.

Thick, soft cookies dusted with coconut… overly sweet… Who could it have been?

Who gave young Hernan those cookies that would become his lifelong favorite?

I imagined Hernan as a child.

His skin was so pale, as if he’d never seen sunlight.

His ankles were thinner than other kids his age, and he was short.

But despite that, his neck was long, and his deep, doe-like eyes gave him the look of a lost fawn.

When he twisted his ankle and was left stranded, he really did resemble a helpless little deer who’d lost his parents.

‘How could anyone bully such a pitiful, adorable child?’

He used to just nod along with those teary eyes, and now look at him—a sly one, no doubt.

I couldn’t even begin to guess what he’d gone through to end up like this.

With a slight scoff, I finally drifted off into sleep.

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Meanwhile, back at the office, Hernan returned after escorting Jurgen to his room.

He sensed something different in the air and cautiously approached the armor on display.

The armor, a replica of what his ancestors once wore, was well-maintained, ready for battle even today.

“……”

Hernan nonchalantly brushed his fingertips over the helmet, blowing off the faint layer of dust.

As his hand touched the sword held by the gauntlet, he sensed someone approaching from behind and, without hesitation, drew the sword and pointed it at them.

The enemy’s sword barely missed him, deflecting off the wall.

“Who sent you?”

Before Hernan could press the sword closer to the intruder’s throat, another figure lunged from behind.

Clang!

The clash of metal rang out as the swords collided.

Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the office was under a soundproofing spell, so no one outside would have any idea what was happening inside.

“I asked, who sent you?”

With one hand still gripping the sword’s hilt, Hernan shoved the second attacker against the wall and swung at the first.

The sharp blade sliced through the air, and droplets of blood sprayed from its silvery edge.

“Tsk…!”

The first attacker’s mask tore, revealing their face.

They ducked down, clearly preferring the risk of exposure over revealing their identity.

Well, if that’s what they wanted, Hernan would oblige.

Without missing a beat, he plunged his sword into their chest, then swiftly dispatched the second intruder.

Was that all of them?

As he flicked the blood from his blade, the sound of something heavy cutting through the air came from behind him.

“Urgh!”

A low grunt, far too deep to belong to Hernan.

A heavy thud followed as a large body crumpled to the ground.

Hernan ran a hand through his blood-soaked silver hair.

“I’ll give you one last chance to live. Who sent you?”

As his sword glinted menacingly, all three intruders simultaneously collapsed, their bodies going limp.

“Ha.”

Whether through magic or some pre-arranged method, it seemed they’d been ordered to kill themselves rather than be captured.

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Hernan turned away from the rapidly cooling bodies just as a familiar voice echoed in his mind.

[See? I told you this would happen.]

Well, thanks for the warning. Hernan’s ancestor had his uses now and then, but in times like these, he was more trouble than help.

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