A Place to Escape (1)
The promise was broken.
Count Roxen, who had sworn to return after ten days, did not appear even as the sun set on the tenth day. The siblings stared endlessly out at the forest, and only when the dead of night fell did they finally accept that he had broken his word.
A cloying, sticky anxiety settled over the cabin. The only reason we had managed to endure these ten days here was Count Roxen's promise. Our belief that he would keep his word. Because of that faith, we had been able to smile and laugh with innocent ease. Now that this faith was shattered, the anxiety gripping the siblings was beyond imagination.
These were the children of rulers, who would normally never even deign to speak with ordinary nobles. They were direct descendants of the Illencia bloodline, carrying the purest blood on the continent—individuals to whom even members of the imperial family could not easily speak down. If they simply grew up without harm, one of them would inevitably inherit the Grand Duchy. When choosing a spouse, the bare minimum would be a high noble of the Empire. If they looked abroad, it would naturally have to be an heir to a foreign throne.
Such children should never have been made to live in a dilapidated cabin like this. Forcing this kind of life upon children who had been raised like delicate greenhouse flowers was, in itself, a form of cruelty. Those children had done nothing wrong.
"Sniff, *hic*... ugh..." Therion was seething with rage, while Sirien wept, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Hena prepared dinner with a somber expression, but she couldn't bring herself to call them to the table. She knew all too well that a meal in this place would bring them no comfort.
I didn't want to send these young children to bed on empty stomachs. Nor did I want to watch them cry and rage until they collapsed from exhaustion. I had to step in.
"I know you're upset, but let's eat first. Hena's been waiting for a while."
"I told you I don't want to eat!"
"And how long are you going to refuse? Until tomorrow? Or forever?"
"Until we get out of here..."
"And when will that be? Do you have a set date?"
As expected, Therion snapped. It was exactly what I had anticipated. He had always been a hot-tempered guy, quick to anger and easily irritated. So, I knew that if I pushed him like this, his anger would redirect toward me.
"You... don't talk to me like that."
"Does it change anything if I don't?"
"I told you to shut up!"
"No, you stop, brother. How long are you going to keep acting like this?"
Therion choked on his words. There was no way he could answer that. When people run out of arguments, they resort to anger. And those who are already angry often resort to violence. A sharp, hysterical voice cut through the air.
"What do you know?!"
Thud! My vision spun in an instant. I didn't need to think about what had happened; the cause and effect were perfectly clear. Therion's arm was extended, and my eyes hadn't missed the movement. I could have dodged or blocked it. But I chose to take the hit. Striking back was out of the question. Therion was a child of the Grand Ducal family, and I was the son of their vassal. No matter how close we were, there were lines that could not be crossed.
"That actually stung a bit."
It seemed a single blow wasn't enough to quench Therion's rage. The boy lunged at me recklessly. He grabbed my collar, and another fist flew toward my face. I had been born exceptionally sturdy, so being hit usually didn't bother me much, but now that Therion had grown a bit, his punches carried some real weight. Had he learned how to strike properly? I couldn't tell. Either way, I couldn't just let him pummel me indefinitely, so I raised my guard. Therion's fury-fueled fists kept raining down. *If I just let him hit me for a bit, he'll tire himself out.* Hot-tempered as he was, Therion always knew where to draw the line. He was deeply affectionate at heart, so he wouldn't be able to keep beating his childhood friend forever. Even now, he only put real force into his punches after seeing me block properly. His very first strike, no matter how angry he had been, had instinctively lacked real malice. I figured this wouldn't last more than a few minutes. But even that estimate proved to be too generous. Something suddenly lunged forward. The weight pressing down on me was shoved away, and Therion's fists ground to a halt. Then, a tear-choked voice rang out.
"Stop it!"
It was Sirien. She had thrown her tiny body against Therion to push him off. Looking up, I saw Therion standing a short distance away with a dazed, stupid expression, while Sirien sat slumped beside me. But she didn't stop there. Her small fists began to beat against Therion's arm. Therion's face was a mess of conflicting emotions. I couldn't quite tell either—whether he was shocked that his gentle little sister had physically intervened, or if he was simply stunned to see her crying so bitterly for the first time. One thing was certain: he wasn't so pathetic that he wouldn't snap out of it upon seeing Sirien's tears.
"Why... why are you hitting Rajen? What did Rajen do wrong?!"
"That's... well, I..."
"You're mean, brother! You're completely in the wrong! You're just taking your anger out on Rajen. You only hit him because you know he can't hit you back! You hit him because you knew he would just take it!"
"..."
Thud. Thud. Sirien climbed on top of Therion and kept hitting his arm. Her punches lacked any real strength. Unable to bring herself to strike his face, she aimed only for his arms and shoulders. Tears streamed down her face as she struck him, making the one delivering the blows look far more pained than the one receiving them.
"Since Rajen can't hit you, I will! I won't let you do this ever again! Never! I'll never let you do this to him!"
It didn't last long. Sirien stopped punching and buried her face in Therion's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. She cried so hard that not only her own face but also Therion's shirt became soaked with her tears. Therion, looking as though he had just been struck by the most painful blow in the world, finally spoke.
"...I'm sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have treated you guys like that. I'm so sorry."
After the late-night drama was brought to an end by Sirien, enough time passed for everyone to calm down. We sat side by side at the dining table, chewing on dry bread. Therion kept his head bowed like a criminal, remaining utterly silent. Sirien had only just stopped crying, and Hena was restlessly shifting her gaze between us, clearly on edge. This meant that, once again, I was the only one who could break the silence.
"Man, this really tastes terrible. I guess even Hena's skills can't save bad ingredients."
"Oh? I'm so sorry. I really tried my best..."
"Don't be sorry. If even Hena can't make it taste good, nobody can. If I had made this, Brother Therion and Sirien wouldn't have even been able to swallow a single bite."
"...Well, that's because you're a terrible cook, Rajen. You can't even brew tea. Remember when you brewed tea for me before? I almost threw up."
"Hey, throw up? It wasn't that bad."
"It really was, though."
That had happened back at Leheim Castle. Sirien usually loved black tea, and the maids happened to be away at the time. It was only for a brief moment, so we could have easily waited, but a sudden, foolish sense of competitiveness had flared up inside me. *Tea is just boiling water with some leaves in it, after all. If that's all it is, there's no reason I can't do it.* When I offered to brew it myself, Sirien had shown quite a bit of interest. And in the end, she couldn't even swallow a single sip.
"I'm telling you, it tasted bizarre!"
"I drank some too, and it wasn't that bad."
"That's because you have no taste, Rajen."
"Tsk. So picky."
Back at the castle, there had been so much delicious food. Who was it that said medieval food tasted awful? The culinary standards of Leheim Castle were high enough to satisfy even my modern palate. Of course, no matter how skilled the cook, it was impossible to produce a gourmet meal using ingredients chosen solely for their shelf life in this remote cabin.
Perhaps reminded of the past by our conversation, Sirien murmured softly.
"I want cake... The kind with fresh whipped cream and strawberries."
"I want beef. A nice, thick steak. If I could have just one, I'd have no other wishes."
Sirien had a particular fondness for sweet, soft things. Her love for cake, in particular, was extraordinary. The maids of the Grand Ducal house would often coax her into behaving by using cake as a bribe. Eventually, they kept several small cakes on hand just so they could serve her whichever flavor she craved at a moment's notice. As for me, my preference was definitely steak. For some reason, the steaks in this world tasted far richer and deeper than any I had eaten in my past life. Was it because a top-tier chef was using meticulously selected ingredients, or was it just my growing body desperately craving protein? I couldn't be sure.
"Is there anything you want to eat, Hena?"
"Oh? Me? I am quite alright, young master."
Hena shook her head, but this time, Therion chimed in. It seemed he wanted to look after her, since she was his personal maid.
"Come on, don't be like that. You have plenty of things you like. Like that time you were secretly eating the leftover cookies..."
"Y-Young master!"
"Ahem. Anyway, isn't there anything you want? Let's make sure to eat it together once we get out of here."
"Mmm. Well... in that case, I suppose I would like some warm honey milk and cookies."
"Is that really all? Let's have a proper feast with everyone once we return."
"Yes... I would love that!"
It was a rare sight to see Hena smile. I was glad to see that expression return to her face. We decided to hold onto hope once more. After all, this wasn't just any minor incident—it was an invasion by the Demon King. Things couldn't possibly go perfectly smoothly. A delay of a few days was only natural. That was how we chose to look at it.