Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Chapter 3. Pretending to Be at Ease and Putting on a Brave Face. (5)
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Three days prior, when Abel's reckless demands had dragged the mourners out of Magna Morten.
A sense of camaraderie, too profound to put into words, had sprouted among them. It was as if they shared a common fate, bound together in serving a mad young master.
"Rest for a bit."
Philip steadied his resolve as he passed through the gate. With lunchboxes and bundles of clothes dangling from both hands, he headed toward Magna Morten.
Splash, splash.
The ground was still damp from the rain that had fallen the night before. Each step crushed out a soggy sound.
Philip had always liked the day after rain. But he had a feeling he wouldn't from today onward.
"Urgh."
He stopped in front of Magna Morten and let out a groan.
Was it an illusion that this place, usually so solemn and sacred, now seemed stained with an ominous crimson hue?
He didn't even want to imagine what lay inside.
'Damn it. How am I supposed to clean this mess up?'
Philip squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them.
He needed to get inside quickly. If he was late and upset Abel's mood, the fallout would be unbearable.
"Hoo."
Gritting his teeth, Philip took reluctant steps forward. He stood at the entrance to Magna Morten and peeked inside, lifting his head slightly.
Corpses soaked in blood protruded from the tombstones, shredded into chunks amid the thick stench of gore...
'...Huh?'
It wasn't like that.
Philip froze in shock right there.
Magna Morten was simply quiet. Rows of tombstones stood rigidly in the usual reverent atmosphere.
Abel sat motionless on the ground, facing the tower. Like the surrounding stones, his body didn't twitch an inch.
'The young master's clothes...'
Abel's garments were thoroughly soaked, darkened through.
With a pang of dread, Philip focused his eyes. He realized the color wasn't red and relaxed.
'Then why are they wet?'
It was too uniformly drenched to be just sweat.
'Unless he fell into water or something...'
Philip muttered unconsciously, then shook his head.
'Such nonsense.'
The lake in Magna Morten was a place no one could swim out of on their own power.
'He must have just wanted to wash his clothes. Suddenly felt like it.'
If he'd really done laundry, wearing the wet clothes made no sense.
But Philip decided to think of it that way. Any further speculation might break him.
The moment he moved his lips to call Abel,
"Philip."
Abel spoke without turning around. His low voice sank to a terrifying depth.
"Y-Yes."
Philip hurried inside Magna Morten.
"I've brought what you asked for."
"Yeah?"
Abel slowly turned his body. The instant their eyes met,
"-!"
Philip flinched and stopped. For a split second, the young master's eyes seemed pitch black.
Not only that, Abel's aura had subtly changed. It was hard to pinpoint, but something was definitely different.
An indefinable shadow seemed to envelop him, bringing a creepy, ominous sensation.
Sweat beaded on Philip's palms.
'His gaze...'
The look in Abel's eyes held an unfathomable void. Just a glimpse made Philip's vision spin and his mind haze over.
"Young Master?"
Philip instinctively stepped back.
"Ah."
Abel shook his head faintly. As he blinked, the eerie aura vanished like it had been washed away.
"What I asked for?"
His voice was casual, as if nothing had happened. Philip stiffened for a moment before managing a reply.
"I've brought it."
"The clothes first."
Philip held out the bundle with both hands, bowing politely.
"I'll help you change."
Abel took the clothes and issued a curt order.
"Turn around."
"Y-Yes."
Philip spun around quickly. He heard the wet garments thudding to the ground, followed by the rustle of new ones.
"Take them."
At Abel's voice, Philip turned back. Abel, now neatly dressed, held out the soaked bundle.
"What about food?"
Philip quickly took the clothes and offered the lunchboxes.
"Good work."
Abel snatched a lunchbox and plopped down on the ground. He immediately flipped open the lid and shoveled the contents into his mouth.
"......"
Philip watched in stunned silence.
'He's eating like someone who hasn't had a meal in days.'
The food vanished in seconds.
It wasn't messy—noble etiquette was ingrained in him—but it was fast enough to raise eyebrows among other nobles.
"Hoo."
Abel demolished the lunchbox Philip had brought in no time. Philip shook his head in dismay and asked,
"Shall I bring more?"
❖ ❖ ❖
I set down the fork I was holding. The plates in front of me were all cleanly emptied.
I dabbed my mouth with a napkin, then
"Bring dessert now."
nodded toward the head chef standing behind me.
"Yes, Young Master."
Max replied in a slightly flustered tone. He stared at the stack of plates before me, his eyes trembling like there was an earthquake.
'Good lord. All this by himself?'
That was the look on his face.
It felt oddly familiar. I chuckled, thinking of Philip bustling away upstairs.
Clap, clap.
Max clapped his hands and ordered the servants around him.
"Hurry and clear these, then bring out dessert."
The servants swarmed the table. They began carrying the plates I'd devoured back to the kitchen.
The number of times they'd wheeled carts back and forth...
'Five or six?'
That was about the amount for a whole family—parents and two kids—eating together.
I'd polished it off alone,
'And now I'm full.'
This was one change since acquiring Requiem. Hunger came more easily and frequently.
'Is it because of the sword's "void" attribute?'
Lately, instead of grabbing quick bites in my study, I made sure to come down to the dining hall.
I savored full courses from appetizers to main dishes to desserts without skipping a thing. Meal times were a bit longer now, but no big deal.
'I have plenty of time.'
With Requiem in hand, the future where the territory became a wasteland and I got my head lopped off by the protagonist Cain's sword was gone.
The time from now on was mine to shape—something that didn't exist in the original story.
'All that's left is enjoying this new life.'
And I liked my current situation a lot.
For starters, having such a beautiful, healthy body. Plus Requiem meant endless growth potential.
'A body that became the strongest in the original story—its future won't change.'
No, it'd come even sooner. In a more stable, advanced form than in the original.
And that wasn't all.
'Clothes, food, shelter—all perfect.'
Servants tended to my wardrobe and grooming. Hearty meals with seasonal ingredients arrived every mealtime, the bed was cloud-soft, and the furniture dust-free.
Being the son of the lord ruling a vast territory on the empire's western frontier,
'It lives up to the name.'
I planned to enjoy this luxurious life more diligently. By eating more delicious food, more often, endlessly.
'The head chef can handle the work.'
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my full belly, and watched Max grab a dessert plate from the cart.
'Has he slimmed down a bit?'
The plumpness that made him look like a pig had trimmed a little. Probably from my recent demands.
'He lived easy before.'
The lord rarely visited the castle, and his wife had passed. The only direct heir, Abel, wasn't much of an eater.
So Max had it easy despite his important role in the castle.
'Even if I eat a ton, it's easier than serving the whole lord's family.'
I flashed a mischievous smile and straightened up.
"Here's lemon sorbet, pudding, and sable."
Max swiftly set the dessert plates before me.
"We sourced lemons from the southern coast. After a day of aging, their tartness intensifies, blended with a sweet aroma—perfect for desserts."
Max was skilled enough to craft dishes that suited my picky palate. He also knew how to read the room with seasoned tact.
"Good work."
Satisfied, I smiled and sliced into the lemon pudding with my fork, popping it in my mouth.
"Delicious."
My brief praise lit up Max's face noticeably.
"Thank you, Young Master."
He bowed deeply, then added,
"You suddenly wanted tart desserts you never cared for before, so I was a bit thrown off. Luckily, we had plenty in storage. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
I chewed and swallowed the pudding before asking,
"Did I hate tart flavors before?"
"Yes."
Max nodded slowly.
"Not just sour ingredients—even fizzy fruits were something you detested. So we always used well-ripened ones with strong sweetness."
"Hm, right."
In that moment, I thought of Abel's father, Diego.
'So that's why.'
The way he'd stared at me so intently. Had he noticed his son's tastes changing?
'I'll see.'
I reached for the last dessert plate.
"Everyone out."
At my command, the servants exchanged glances.
"No need to attend me. Everyone, out."
Only then did the servants, along with Max and Philip, all leave the dining hall.
"......"
In the meantime, I closed my eyes and focused on my senses.
'Definitely changed.'
Another change in my body since getting Requiem.
The servants' footsteps fading away, the sorbet melting and losing its chill, the faint prick of various scents at the tip of my nose—all felt more vivid.
'My senses are sharper than before.'
It meant my body had leaped several levels beyond its previous state. Which implied,
"Hmm."
I gripped the fork harder.
Crack.
The sturdy metal fork bent easily in my hand.
'Strength's affected too, as expected.'
Intense curiosity gripped me. I wanted to test just how much stronger I'd become.
'And there's a perfect opponent handy.'
Smiling, I rose from my seat. I tossed the crumpled fork to the floor with a ting and left the dining hall.
A few hours later.
"You're early."
I stood in the stable where I always met Liam. My full stomach had long settled.
"Maybe grab a snack after?"
I muttered, patting my belly. Max would tear his hair out if he heard.
Leaning against the stable wall to pass the time.
'He's coming.'
I lifted my slightly bowed head.
No one entered my sight. But I could definitely sense it.
[Thud, thud]
The footsteps seeping into the floor with Liam's gait,
[Thump, thump]
His heart beating lightly at a steady pace,
[Hoo.]
His quiet breathing.
Even the scent carried on the cold wind from beyond the border—leather, iron, and a faint trace of blood.
'This is impressive.'