“Dinner has been prepared, Your Majesty.”
Following the head chamberlain’s guidance, the two of them moved to the dining room. He had said he would put Luan to work — yet it seemed mealtimes were something he observed without fail. Not bad. Food was important.
It was right after the tense confrontation with Duke Requies, yet Luan’s expression had already returned to its usual dry composure. His steps, however, swayed ever so slightly, betraying the limits of his stamina. He could hardly believe it was already evening.
The long dining table was set with dishes befitting an imperial dinner — lavish in every sense. Thick T-bone steak, lobster seared in butter, an assortment of hot vegetables. It was a rich and abundant spread, yet the moment Luan sat down, his brow furrowed.
Heavy.
Just looking at it made his stomach feel blocked. It was the kind of menu that would have been difficult to digest on a normal day — and coming off the back of extreme tension followed by its sudden release, it was even more daunting. His entire digestive system was on strike. What he needed right now was something soft like porridge or thin rice gruel, yet what sat before him was a slab of meat that required cutting.
“Eat.”
Kirian, seated at the head of the table, gave a brief command. Luan mechanically picked up his fork and knife. But there was no strength in his hands. The tip of his knife trembled against the plate.
Clatter. Screech. It was not the sound of cutting meat — it was the sound of scraping the plate. Luan swallowed a sigh. The stamina required to cut through this firm meat and chew it down felt wasteful. But there was no soup in sight.
“…….”
From across the table, Kirian — who had been drinking wine — fixed his gaze on Luan. A face drained of all color, fingers as thin as chopsticks, and a pitiful struggle to cut through a single piece of meat. Just moments ago he had been boldly negotiating compensation for damages — yet in front of a meal, he was unmistakably a patient.
Did the Duke raise him without feeding him properly?
Kirian felt a vague, unpleasant sensation. He had known the Requies family treated the Empress as a tool — but he hadn’t known it was this bad. It didn’t even seem like basic nutrition had been provided. The fact that a body like that had managed to process all those documents felt like nothing short of a miracle.
“What are you doing instead of eating?”
Kirian said bluntly. Luan set down his knife and replied.
“My apologies. The menu is not suited to my current condition.”
“What’s the problem? It’s top-grade tenderloin.”
“It’s too…… solid.”
“What?”
“I believe the energy expended on chewing would exceed the energy gained from eating it. Is there perhaps a soup, or some porridge?”
Here it was again. First it was the chewing being too much effort — and today, eating itself was apparently too much trouble. As someone who was fundamentally a meat person, Kirian found this entirely incomprehensible.
“You’re frail because you only eat vegetables and porridge. You need protein for your brain to function.”
Kirian pushed his own plate aside and snatched Luan’s plate over to his side of the table. He picked up the knife and began cutting the meat.
Slice, slice.
It was unhesitating, efficient cutting — less a display of gentlemanly manners and more the action of a short-tempered superior who simply couldn’t stand watching someone struggle. The steak was reduced to bite-sized pieces in no time.
Thwap. Kirian set the plate down in front of Luan with a rough thud.
“Eat.”
“…….”
“Don’t leave a single bite. You need stamina if you’re going to work.”
Luan looked down at the neatly cut meat. The Emperor personally cut it. It felt less like an honor and more like a wordless pressure of eat this and get back to work.
“……Thank you. The service is excellent.”
Luan murmured without a trace of soul and picked up his fork. He placed a small piece of the cut meat into his mouth. Fortunately, the meat was tender and full of flavor. With food finally entering it, his dormant stomach began to stir back to life, little by little.
As Luan mechanically chewed, Kirian propped his chin in his hand and observed him. The slight puffing and deflating of his cheeks drew his gaze in a strangely particular way. The sight of someone for whom even eating seemed a struggle was almost pitiful — and yet the image of that same body standing its ground defiantly against a father came back to him, stirring a question.
“You and the Duke don’t seem to get along well.”
Kirian broke the silence. Luan swallowed what he was chewing, took a sip of water, and then answered.
“We never have.”
“Even as family?”
“Blood matters less to him than interests.”
Luan’s answer was businesslike. It sounded like someone explaining the nature of a business relationship with a difficult client.
“It seems the family suppressed you quite thoroughly.”
“……Well, from the family’s perspective, I was a defective product.”
Luan said it flatly. There was no anger in his manner, and no sorrow. Just a dry recitation of facts, as though enumerating them for a report.
Kirian found that indifference more unsettling than anything. Normally, when someone’s history of abuse surfaced, they would feel shame or seek sympathy — but this man spoke of it the way one described someone else’s affairs, assigning blame neither to others nor to himself.
“Is that why you want a divorce?”
Kirian’s eyes sharpened.
“To escape the family’s shadow?”
“……Something like that.”
Luan placed the last piece of meat into his mouth and thought. It isn’t only the family I want to escape. It’s this terrible fate I’m bound to — entangled with you, the Emperor. But explaining that in full would cost energy he didn’t have.
“I want to rest.”
“Rest.”
“Somewhere quiet, with no one interfering…… I just want to sleep soundly. That is my only goal.”
Luan said it with complete sincerity. But Kirian received those words differently. I just want to sleep soundly. Coming from the lips of someone who had spent five years living in suffocated silence, ground down by the pressure of his family, deprived of any freedom — it didn’t sound like a simple desire for sleep. It sounded like a desperate longing for a peaceful life.
Kirian turned his wine glass slowly between his fingers. The suspicion hadn’t entirely disappeared. But he had come to feel certain that this man in front of him was, at the very least, not the Duke’s loyal hound. Too thin to be a hound, he thought. And he knows how to bite his master.
“I can’t say about a vacation.”
Kirian looked at Luan with an expression that was difficult to read.
“But at least while you’re in my domain, I have no intention of letting you go hungry.”
“……?”
“Eat properly and put some weight on. You look terrible.”
Kirian said it with deliberate curtness and rang the bell.
“Bring dessert. You said you needed sugar.”
Luan’s eyes lit up. Better news than the meat by far. When sweet pudding and cake arrived shortly after, Luan moved his spoon with an enthusiasm he hadn’t shown once during the main course.
Simple creature.
Kirian watched and let out a quiet, amused breath. The wariness was still there — but watching someone eat like this was, at minimum, not unpleasant. It was like watching a rain-soaked stray cat found on the roadside empty its food bowl…… a strange, inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
“When you’re done eating, go inside and sleep.”
“What about work……”
“Do it tomorrow. I’ll let it go for today.”
Yes! Inwardly cheering at Kirian’s dismissal, Luan rose without a single word of complaint.
“Thank you. Good night.”
Luan gave a small bow and disappeared into his room. Through the gap of the door left slightly ajar, the sound of him flopping onto the bed with a thud came through.
Kirian refilled his empty wine glass, alone at the dining table. It had been a businesslike, dry dinner. The conversation that passed between them held no sentimental comfort of any kind. And yet — for the first time in five years, this vast dining table felt full.
“……Amusing.”
Kirian drank down the red wine. Suspicion, curiosity, and a faint thread of something like sympathy. He didn’t need to know yet what name to give this tangle of feelings.
