“The meal is ready, Your Majesty.”
Following the chamberlain's guidance, the two of them moved. He'd said he'd put the man to work, but it seemed he kept mealtimes faithfully. Not bad. Meals are important.
It was right after the savage one-on-one with Duke Requies, yet Luan's expression had already gone dry, no different from usual. Only his gait swayed ever so slightly, betraying the limits of his stamina. He couldn't believe it was already evening.
On the wide dining table, lavish dishes were laid out, befitting an emperor's dinner. A thick T-bone steak, butter-grilled lobster, all sorts of hot vegetables. It was a rich, abundant table, but the moment Luan sat down, he furrowed his brow.
Heavy.
Just looking at it gave him the feeling of his stomach clogging up. It was a menu that would be hard to digest even on a normal day, and in a state of extreme tension followed by release, it was even harder. His digestive functions had all gone on strike. What he needed now was soft food, something fluid like porridge or rice gruel, yet before his eyes lay a hunk of meat that had to be cut.
“Eat.”
Seated at the head of the table, Kirian gave a curt command. Luan mechanically picked up his fork and knife. But no strength would come to his hands. The tip of the knife trembled against the plate.
Clatter. Screech. The sound wasn't of cutting meat but of scraping the plate. Luan swallowed a sigh. He begrudged the strength both to cut this tough meat and to chew and swallow it. But there was no soup he could drink in sight.
“…”
From across the table, Kirian, who'd been drinking wine, fixed his gaze on Luan. A face pale to the point of looking ill. Fingers thin as chopsticks. And the sorry sight of him whimpering, unable to cut a single piece of meat. Just earlier the man had so boldly discussed settlements, yet at the dinner table he was the very picture of an invalid.
Did the Duke raise him without even feeding him?
Kirian felt a subtle displeasure. He'd known House Requies treated the Empress like a tool, but he hadn't realized it was to this extent. Even basic nutrition appeared to be lacking. With a body like that, the fact that he'd processed that mountain of documents felt like a miracle.
“What are you doing, not eating?”
Kirian tossed out. Luan set down his knife and answered.
“My apologies. The menu selection doesn't agree with my condition.”
“What's the problem? It's top-grade tenderloin.”
“It's too… solid.”
“What?”
“The energy that goes into mastication is likely to exceed the energy I'd take in. Is there perhaps no soup or porridge?”
Here we go again. He'd gone on about mastication being a bother before, and today too it seemed eating was a chore. To Kirian, a meat man, it was a point he couldn't possibly understand.
“It's because you only eat vegetables and porridge that you're so feeble. You have to take in protein for your brain to work.”
Kirian pushed his own plate aside and snatched Luan's plate over. Then he picked up a knife and began to cut the meat.
Slice, slice.
It was an unhesitating bit of knifework. Less the gentle manner of a tender man than the conduct of a short-tempered boss who couldn't stand watching out of frustration. In an instant, the steak was hacked (?) into bite-sized pieces.
Thunk. Kirian set the plate of cut meat down in front of Luan, roughly.
“Eat.”
“…”
“Leave any and there's nothing else for you. You need stamina if you're going to work.”
Luan looked down at the finely cut meat. Meat the Emperor had personally cut. Rather than an honor, it felt like the silent pressure of eat this and get to work.
“…Thank you. The service is excellent.”
Luan mumbled soullessly and picked up his fork. He put a piece of the finely cut meat into his mouth. Fortunately, the meat was tender and rich with juices. As the food went in, his stalled stomach gradually began to stir into activity.
While Luan mechanically chewed the meat, Kirian propped his chin on his hand and observed him. The way his cheek subtly puffed up and deflated oddly drew the eye. The sight of the man finding even eating a struggle was pitiful, yet the memory of him standing firm and defying his own father with that body raised a question.
“You don't seem to be on good terms with the Duke.”
Kirian broke the silence. Luan swallowed what he was chewing, took a sip of water, then answered.
“We've never been on good terms.”
“Even though you're blood relations?”
“He's a man to whom interests matter more than blood.”
Luan's answer was businesslike. It was as if he were explaining a relationship with a client.
“The House seems to have oppressed you quite a bit.”
“…Well, from the House's standpoint, I'm a defective product.”
Luan said it flatly. There was neither anger nor sorrow in that attitude. Only a dryness, as if he were merely listing off facts.
Kirian found that indifference all the stranger. Usually, when a past of being abused is uncovered, a person feels shame or seeks pity, yet this man neither blamed others nor blamed himself, as though talking about someone else's affairs.
“So that's why you want a divorce?”
Kirian's eyes glinted sharply.
“To escape the shadow of the House?”
“…Something like that.”
Luan thought as he put the last piece of meat into his mouth. It's not only the House I want to escape. You—the Emperor—and this dreadful fate I'm entangled in, I want out of that too. But he hadn't the energy to explain at length.
“I want to rest.”
“Rest, you say.”
“In a quiet place, free of any interference… I just want to sleep deeply. That's my only goal.”
Luan said it with sincerity. But Kirian took the words differently. The words I want to sleep deeply. They came from the mouth of a hostage who'd lived five years holding his breath, who'd had his freedom suppressed under the pressure of his House. It sounded not like a simple desire for sleep but like a desperate yearning for a peaceful life.
Kirian fiddled with his wine glass. His suspicion hadn't completely vanished. But he'd grown certain that the man before him was, at the very least, not the Duke's faithful dog. Too scrawny to be a dog—and one that knew how to bite its master, at that.
“Well.”
Kirian gazed at Luan with a peculiar expression. It had been a mere few days ago that he'd laid out a plan to make use of the man, yet something felt grating.
“I'm not sure I'll give you a vacation, but at least while you're in my domain, I have no intention of starving you.”
“…?”
“Eat well and put on some weight. You're unsightly.”
Kirian spoke with feigned brusqueness and rang the bell.
“Bring dessert. He said he needs sugar.”
Luan's eyes sparkled. It was more welcome news than the meat. Soon enough, sweet pudding and cake came out, and for the first time Luan moved his spoon with vigor.
Simple, isn't he.
Watching the sight, Kirian let out a small snort of laughter. His wariness was still there, but at least the thought struck him that watching the man eat wasn't all that bad. It was like watching a rain-soaked cat, picked up off the roadside, empty its food bowl… a strange sort of fulfillment.
“If you're done eating, go in and sleep.”
“The work…”
“Do it tomorrow. I'll let it slide today.”
Yes! At Kirian's order to leave, Luan inwardly cheered and rose without a word of complaint.
“Thank you. Sleep well.”
Luan gave a bobbing bow and disappeared into his room. Through the gap of the door left slightly ajar rather than shut, the sound of him flopping down onto the bed could be heard.
At the dining table, left alone, Kirian filled his empty wine glass. It had been a businesslike, dry meal. The conversation exchanged had held no sentimental comfort. And yet, for the first time in five years, it felt as though this wide table had been full.
“…Interesting.”
Kirian downed the red wine. Suspicion and curiosity, and a faint pity. There was no need yet to know the true nature of these complicated feelings.
