Chapter 22

Somehow, the Duke hasn't moved a single step from the entrance, so I call out to him, "Your Highness, please come over here, not just stand there." The Duke has a tight-lipped, sullen expression, but he doesn't seem angry. He was in a good mood just a moment ago, so what happened? Could it be that he didn't like it when I let him taste the food (even though it was actually only Mullan who did the tasting)?

"Your Highness, there's plenty for you too, so please don't pout."

"I'm not pouting."

"Then please wait a moment. I'll grill some for you too."

While I prepare another slice of meat, Mullan and Zeph stand as if they've turned to stone. Mullan is still holding a skewer.

"Here, Your Highness. Please enjoy."

I go to the Duke, who still hasn't moved, and offer him the skewer of hot, grilled meat. He only glances at it and doesn't take it. His lips are still tightly pressed, and his gaze is piercing. He said he wasn't pouting, but he clearly is. It's kind of cute, like a child.

"The hot ones are delicious, you know."

I bring the meat to the Duke's mouth, trying to get him to open it.

(How did my stepbrother's nanny get him to open his mouth? When he refused to eat and was picky, I remember the nanny used to say...)

"Here, it's delicious, isn't it? Open your mouth, ahhh?"

I try to be as gentle and smile as the nanny did. The "ahhh" is like a magic word. When she said it, my stepbrother, who would turn away and refuse to eat, would open his mouth. I remember she also called his name.

"Your Highness? Ah, Aristide?"

When I call his name, the Duke's eyes widen in surprise, and his lips relax a little. Good, now's the time. I give him my best smile and call his name again.

"Aristide. Here, ahhh."

At that moment, the Duke's face turns bright red, and he opens his mouth. I quickly put the meat in his mouth. I did it! Just like the nanny.

The Duke chews with one hand covering his mouth. The black magic that was rising behind him has dissipated, and the atmosphere is softer. There are no wrinkles on his forehead, so he's fine now. As the old saying goes, "No quarrels arise when everyone shares delicious food," and it seems to be true.

"How is it?"

"...Sweet."

"Hehe, the fat has a sweet taste. Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"Would you like more?"

The Duke nods silently, and I lead him to cut more salted meat. I move a chair from the corner of the kitchen and have the Duke sit down. When he says, "I can stand," I smile and tell him, "Please wait," and he obediently follows. Good, he seems satisfied to have joined in the tasting.

"Now, let's mix the grain porridge!"

Since there's a lot to prepare for all the knights, I ask Mullan and Zeph to help with the meat.

"Mullan, Zeph. Could you please cut this meat into small pieces?"

When I turn around, the two knights are standing at attention... but something seems off. They seem restless and awkward. Still, Mullan raises a hand and responds enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes! We'll cut it into small pieces."

"Idiot, you'll just get in the way!"

"But I can't leave it to the Duke!"

"Ah, stop it!"

The two knights start bickering but begin the task. They keep glancing at the Duke and me and then looking away. I remember Zeph didn't touch the sliced meat, but will it be okay to put it in the porridge?

"Zeph, do you need to taste it?"

"If it's safe for the Duke, it's safe for me."

"Understood. I won't force you."

Everyone has things they don't like, so I shouldn't push. However, Mullan starts lecturing Zeph, poking him in the back of the head with the handle of a knife.

"No, Melfi—no, Melfiera. He should try it too. I give permission. Zeph is a picky eater. He always complains about the rations."

"Shut up, Mullan."

"Meat and vegetables, he says they're too hard or smelly. You should be grateful just to be able to eat."

"Fine, fine. Just one piece, then."

When Zeph agrees, I prepare a slice of meat. The Duke is watching me intently, so I prepare another slice for him and use the "ahhh" technique to feed him. I'll also feed Zeph. His hands are greasy from cutting the meat, and the "ahhh" is handy in such situations. When I bring the meat to Zeph, he looks at me with a puzzled expression.

"What?"

"Here, Zeph. Ahhh."

"N-no, what are you...?"

I push the meat into Zeph's mouth without hesitation. He closes his mouth, eyes wide, and chews a few times before swallowing.

"How was it?"

Zeph avoids my gaze and mumbles.

"...It was good."

◇

The grain porridge with Loiarmoudler salted meat was a big hit with the knights. The meat, cut into small pieces and lightly fried, had a fragrant aroma and a perfect balance of salt and fat. The large bowl was quickly emptied. When I told the knights they could have the rest of the Loiarmoudler salted meat, Zeph, who had been so reluctant, ran to the kitchen with Mullan.

"Here, Melfi. Ahhh."

I'm sitting next to the Duke, being fed the porridge. I'm not a child, and my hands are free. He's not pouting, so I don't see the point of the "ahhh." But the Duke is in a good mood and smiling as he offers me a spoonful of porridge.

"Your Highness, why don't you try the salted meat? I can eat on my own."

"Nope. I'll feed you."

"Fine, then."

I open my mouth and eat the porridge from the spoon the Duke offers. The flavor is exquisite, seeping into my stomach. The Loiarmoudler meat is one of the best I've ever tasted among the monsters I've eaten.

"Melfi."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"About that..."

The Duke, who has been feeding me the porridge, finally brings up the topic. I have no idea what he's referring to.

"Call me by my name, normally."

"Your Highness."

"No."

"Um... Aristide?"

"Yes, that's it."

When I call him by his name, the Duke nods in satisfaction.

"According to Chaos, it's common for fiancés to call each other by their names or nicknames."

"Come to think of it, my father and mother called each other by their names."

I didn't know this was common, but since my parents did it, what Chaos said must be true. It feels a bit embarrassing to call him by his name after always calling him "Your Highness," but I need to get used to it.

"S-so, Aristide."

"What is it, Melfi?"

The nickname "Melfi" is now only used by my father, so I feel a bit shy when the Duke calls me that.

"I'll practice calling you more properly."

"Hehe, or you could use a nickname?"

"A nickname?"

The Duke's name is Aristide Roge, so should I call him Tied? Or Roge? Or maybe Alice? I imagine the Duke responding to "Alice" and picture him with glowing golden eyes, fighting a monster... No, that's not right. Alice is a woman's name, so I think Tied or Roge is better.

"Um... Tied?"

The moment I call him by the nickname in a small voice, the Duke's amber eyes glow gold. The intensity is overwhelming, and I feel like I'm being drawn into the golden light.

"Your Highness, your eyes are golden!"

"Ah, yes... I lost control a bit."

"Are you feeling unwell? Mullan!"

At my panicked voice, Mullan rushes out of the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine. I just lost control of my magic for a moment. It's nothing to worry about."

"But..."

Mullan and the knights surround the Duke. Could it be because of the monster meat I ate? I can't rule out that possibility, and I clench my fists in worry.

"It's fine, Melfiera."

"Mullan, I..."

"The Duke has a lot of magic, much more than an average person. He'll be fine after releasing a bit."

Mullan explains to me, who is worried. The Duke, with his eyes half-open, smiles at me, reassuring me.

"Perfect timing. I'll go hunt some Zanas tomorrow. I should be fine after catching a few dozen."

"Then we'll accompany you."

"Melfi, I'll be back soon. I'll bring back a big catch."

The Duke pats my head reassuringly and leaves the room with a few knights. It seems the Duke needs to release more magic than an average person. Not only monsters but humans also contain magic. When monsters accumulate too much magic, they produce magic poison and go mad. What about humans? What happens when humans accumulate too much magic?

(Could he become like my mother? Could the Duke become like my mother... No, I absolutely don't want that!)

The thought makes my body tremble uncontrollably.