Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: The Merenes Siblings' Dinner Time
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*Rewinding time, Merenes Castle.*
"Hmph~ Hm-hmm~"
Slightly long reddish-brown roll-bun hair draped down low. A refreshingly slender figure complemented by a lady's pouch far from small.
But her steps were freer and more confident than any noble poise.
Merenes Countess's daughter, Edelin Merenes, strode through the corridors of Merenes Castle with noticeable excitement.
In her hand was the hot topic currently shaking not just the capital but the entire empire—"that thing."
A small glass vial filled with crimson liquid. A treasure she'd barely secured by hounding the servants and even tipping the merchants extra.
'I wonder if tasting this will give me some insight into that person's thoughts.'
A certain man's face flitted through her mind.
Always so upright and exemplary—a bit dull, perhaps—but occasionally, his earnestness struck her as rather appealing.
Tall and well-built, with exceptional martial skill yet never boastful: a black-haired man.
For some reason, just thinking of him brought an unwitting smile to the lady's face.
It was then, as she walked lost in pleasant daydreams—
From the far end of the corridor wafted a faint whiff of alcohol, followed by a familiar shadow.
Deeply furrowed brows and a gait brimming with dissatisfaction.
Her one and only brother, Branik Merenes.
"What's got you so chipper, Sis? Just come from meeting that goody-two-shoes Jonathan again?"
Branik wasted no time picking a fight in his signature mocking tone.
Edelin frowned despite herself at the booze on his breath.
"None of your business. More importantly, where've you been wandering since morning? You look a total mess."
"Hmph. Nagging already? Trying to play Mom now, Sis?"
"If you can't even talk right... ugh."
Edelin clicked her tongue as she faced her brother's sullen expression.
His eyes burned with the usual defiance toward her—and resentment for the entire world.
"It's not nagging. Mom and Dad will be back from the palace soon. You planning to show them this?"
"As if they'd care about me. It'll all be 'Sis this' or 'that perfect Jonathan' that."
Thorns laced Branik's words.
A twisted rebellion that wrote off all advice as nagging and every bit of concern as meddling.
Edelin pressed her throbbing temple and let out a long sigh.
"I only care because you're my brother. Keep straying like this, and Dad might really ship you off to a monastery."
"That'd suit you just fine! The heir spot you've always wanted would just roll right in!"
"Branik!"
Edelin's sharp reprimand rang through the corridor at her brother's pathetic whining.
Hardly surprising, really.
Branik Merenes: eldest son of the current Court Count Merenes, the youngest of their one son and one daughter.
But noble blood aside, he possessed no outstanding talents.
No gift for commerce, arms, or academics—yet neither was he utterly hopeless.
That said, his utter lack of drive was undeniably a major problem.
He lagged in court duties, estate management, even honing the combat skills expected of a noble.
Hell, even the theology college—secured via donations tantamount to bribes just to get him graduated—he'd gotten kicked out for boozing and brawling.
This left the Court Count sighing over whether to pack his useless eldest son off to a monastery and bequeath the estate to his sharp eldest daughter instead.
That was why Edelin—long past marriageable age—still hadn't settled on a match.
"Fine, I get it. Tch, such a pain."
At her shout, Branik flinched for a moment before pouting and averting his eyes, tail between his legs.
Edelin clutched her pounding head and headed to her room, cradling the precious little vial.
She needed this small comfort to soothe the foul mood her brother had soured.
Dinner time arrived, and the two siblings sat across from each other in stiff silence.
The grand table felt cavernously empty without their parents, away at the palace on official business.
The servants carefully presented the evening's main course: perfectly roasted chicken alongside flat noodles.
And beside it—in a bowl—the red sauce Edelin had doted on all day.
Edelin hesitated a moment before scooping some with a silver spoon and drizzling it lightly over the chicken and noodles.
A rich, fragrant aroma seeped into her nostrils.
Heart fluttering, she brought a small bite of chicken to her lips.
"……!"
Edelin's eyes went wide. The rumors weren't hype at all.
The chicken breast—expected to be chewy—had transformed into something impossibly tender and bursting with flavor upon meeting the sauce.
The ecstatic harmony of tastes enveloped her tongue, melting away the day's frustration with her brother like snow in spring.
"…Hm-hmm."
Her unwitting hum of delight drew a displeased snort from Branik across the table.
Seeing his sister like that, the young man eyed the steaming dish topped with red sauce.
"…So, Sis, this is that Tomato Sauce everyone's losing their minds over?"
To her brother's sullen question, the now-cheerful lady replied in a relaxed tone.
"Yeah. Word is, it even got the Papal Court, the Magic Tower, and the Imperial Family involved. They say he came up with it thinking of the people around him—and it's that good."
Missing the man's darkening scowl, the excited lady pressed on.
"On top of that, he inked supply contracts with the military to boost morale, donated to the church, boosted his name, and made a fortune. If that's not impressive, what is?"
Whether her praise for the absent man struck him like condemnation, Branik's face twisted sour.
"Anyway, you should step up your game. If you're still hung up on that tournament fiasco with Jonathan, get over it. You can't just drown in booze and gambling forever."
Dismissing his sister's nagging, the young man's expression soured further.
Soon, he began muttering under his breath.
"Jonathan… Jonathan… Jonathan again."
He jabbed randomly at the noodles with his fork, steeped in jealousy and self-loathing.
Hardly surprising.
Jonathan Valerius: sole heir to a prestigious house, the sort destined for greatness.
He'd shown talent across fields, was his sister's age—and two years his senior.
With parents and sister constantly holding him up as the standard and nagging comparisons, the name alone turned his stomach.
Oblivious to her brother's turmoil, Edelin savored the lingering bliss and continued.
"Isn't it incredible? Coming up with a taste like this. He always surprises people in ways you never see coming."
"Hmph! Big deal."
Branik shoved a sauce-slathered chunk of chicken into his mouth for show.
Separate from his boiling rage, the flavor wrapping his tongue was perfect—undeniably so.
And that undeniable perfection only deepened his misery. A lifetime wouldn't earn him such acclaim.
'Damn, damn, damn! Just for some stupid sauce!'
Black jealousy sprouted like poison mushrooms in his mind.
Jonathan Valerius. The name forever blocking his path, reducing him to a shabby shadow in comparison.
Now the bastard was being hailed like some empire-wide hero.
Branik couldn't stomach the injustice.
Right then, a sly petty scheme reared its head in his warped heart.
'Right… the sauce. His big business item, huh?'
Branik's eyes gleamed cunningly.
'This so great? Just smashed tomatoes with some spices. I could whip it up easy.'
'A noble like him wouldn't cook himself—servants did it, obviously. Not really his work? Even less reason I can't.'
'Yeah—rip off his business item outright and undercut him!'
The thought elicited a nasty chuckle.
'That'll hit him hard. Serves him right! Even if not, sauce prints money, right? I'll grab my cut. Then Dad and Sis won't dare look down on me!'
Perfect scheme. Branik smirked, self-admiring his cunning.
He stopped chewing, lost in fantasy, idly twirling his fork.
Jealousy had yielded to vile smugness on his face.
Edelin across the table couldn't miss the abrupt shift.
"What're you grinning about like an idiot?"
Wary edge to Edelin's voice—that look always heralded trouble.
"Nothing, Sis."
Branik shrugged with feigned nonchalance.
"Just found a great way to prove myself. Can't live like a screw-up forever, right?"
His gaze flicked briefly to the empty red sauce bowl on the table.
Edelin's eyes caught the telltale glance.
A sigh escaped her. Her brother's shallow scheme was transparent.
'No way…'
Her instincts never failed. Jealousy-blinded, he was surely plotting some folly.
"Branik."
Edelin called his name firmly.
"Whatever you're scheming, don't be reckless. Could drag the whole family down."
"Hmph, taking his side again? Whose brother am I, anyway?"
Branik shot up irritably.
"Just watch. I'll show you who's the real deal. Don't come crying regret later."
With that, Branik stormed out of the dining hall without a backward glance.
Left alone in the empty room, Edelin stared silently at the now-cold chicken.
The sauce's rapturous flavor had long faded from her tongue.
Pressing her throbbing temple, she sighed—long, so very long.
Disappointment and pity for her brother mingled with bone-deep weariness in that breath.
"Ugh… when the hell will that little punk wise up?"