Episode 844

After a brief conversation, Lee Han lamented inwardly.

'How could this be. That I couldn't trust my senior.'

If it had been any other professor or senior, he might not have felt this way, but the fact that he'd doubted Diret specifically made it impossible not to feel self-reproach.

"Ugh. This is too painful."

"I-I mean, it's not that bad, is it?"

Diret flustered upon seeing his junior in distress.

True, the misunderstanding had made him practice magic more intensely than necessary, but mastering the Skeleton Golem was still a remarkable achievement.

He had every right to be proud and satisfied.

"Junior. Look. You can summon a Skeleton Golem now."

"I didn't need to though..."

"...Golems are nice, aren't they?"

"I should have listened properly to what you were saying, Senior..."

Whoosh!

Diret grabbed the whining junior's head with both hands and forcibly turned it sideways to make him look at the Skeleton Golem.

"Hey. Look at it. Isn't it cool?"

"Ugh. It's cool."

"Aren't you proud?"

"I'm proud."

"Right. Completing a Skeleton Golem in just one lecture ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is really, really amazing. Isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"It's amazing. Isn't it!"

"Yes!"

"Today's lecture was fulfilling and satisfying, right?"

"It was fulfilling and satisfying!"

Satisfied with the (forcibly extracted) response from his junior, Diret nodded approvingly when suddenly a doubt crept into his mind...

'Am I acting like the professors of Einrogard right now?'

After the lecture ended, Lee Han briefly visited the Black Rock Hall.

He wanted to check on Duke Icaldoren's condition personally.

'If the Duke's condition has improved, he might be able to hold a conversation with me.'

Last time, because the Duke was too terrified, Lee Han had only managed to get him to sign off on Yukveltire's Artificial Dimension Research without being able to discuss any other potential deals.

Diret had insisted that the reason Duke Icaldoren was so frightened was because of Lee Han's status as a disciple of the Magic Tower...

But Lee Han didn't fully agree.

'It's definitely also because the seniors stuffed him inside a Toad Demon and kidnapped him. It's not just me who scared him.'

In any case, if the Duke's condition had improved and he could hold a conversation, there was a chance Lee Han could squeeze some gold coins out of him.

As he descended the stairs, Lee Han mentally reviewed several fake research titles he'd prepared in advance.

'Maybe something like <Research on Ancient Small World Magic>, <Applied Research on Water Prison Bomb Magic>, or <Advanced Lightning Element Conversion and Spirit Authority Research> would tempt him.'

"Are you there?"

"Please go away. I won't ask for anything more."

"?"

"Lee Han was puzzled by the weary, starved voice of the Duke."

Of course, anyone locked in the underground dungeon of a black mage's tower would be on edge, but the Duke's words carried a slightly different nuance this time.

It almost sounded like he was speaking to someone else...

"Your Grace, are you alright?"

"You... you, you're not the Princess!"

The Duke belatedly recognized Lee Han's voice and began banging on the bars.

"Quickly! Come here!"

"???"

"Suspecting a trap, Lee Han descended cautiously."

What if the Duke, hiding nearby, pounced on him the moment he went down?

Of course, the Duke was still neatly locked behind bars—though he looked far paler and more emaciated than the last time Lee Han had seen him.

"You..."

Duke Icaldoren whispered hoarsely upon spotting Lee Han.

When it seemed like he might start raving again about Lee Han being the Magic Tower's disciple or whatever, Lee Han grew slightly concerned.

"Your Grace, about what we discussed last time, there seems to have been a slight misunderstanding..."

"Do you have any food?"

"Huh?"

"Food, I mean. Anything to eat. Anything at all."

"My apologies, Your Grace. The food I carry with me is only ordinary fare."

Though Lee Han always kept a certain amount of provisions in his bag as a precaution, most of it was simple preserved food.

For a duke who indulged in lavish meals with dishes so extravagant their names were hard to remember, this would hardly be satisfactory.

"Plain is fine! Plain is perfectly fine!"

Do you have any bread?"

"Bread... I do have some, but it might be a bit stale..."

"Give it to me!"

"......"

Lee Han took out a slightly hardened loaf of bread and handed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it over. The duke hastily unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth.

"Your Grace, here—let me at least spread some butter and jam on it for you."

"O-ohh!"

The duke's eyes welled up as he accepted the butter and jam Lee Han offered. He carved out a thick chunk of butter with his knife, slathered on a generous amount of jam, smeared it onto the bread, and swallowed it all without even pausing to breathe.

After devouring four loaves in an instant, the duke finally seemed to regain his senses.

"...I shall repay you for this meal. Disciple of the Magic Tower. What research are you currently working on?"

"Eh? Uh, ancient Small Worlds..."

Before correcting the misunderstanding about being the Magic Tower's disciple, Lee Han hastily mentioned the fake research topic he had prepared.

Before even hearing him out fully, the duke pulled out a piece of paper and signed it, declaring he would sponsor the research.

"Take this. You can fill in the research name yourself later."

'No way. Is he just giving it away this easily?' Lee Han was bewildered.

There was a limit to being happy about good fortune—this was too easy and too fast.

Surely he wasn't handing this over just because of four loaves of bread with butter and jam...

'Does he have some other ulterior motive? Could this be a trap?'

While Lee Han was lost in thought, the duke, sensing his hesitation, spoke up.

"Got any more food?"

"Eh?"

"...I-I'm not asking for free. Let's make an exchange. Here, take a look."

The duke swiftly pulled out another sheet of paper and wrote up a blank check to sponsor more research.

"Let's trade for food. How about it?"

"...Your Grace, um... have you been starving? Did Senior Yukveltire not give you any meals?"

Duke Icaldoren rolled his eyes.

He was unsure what Lee Han meant by the question—was it a trap?

"Your Grace. I swear on the name of the Magic Tower that I'll keep your secret. Please be honest with me."

"...Fine. I've been starving. Seems like you didn't know."

"I don't understand. Senior Yukveltire may be narrow-minded, petty, stingy, and eccentric, but she's not the type to deliberately starve a prisoner."

For a junior who supposedly respected his senior, his insults were suspiciously excessive—but the duke was too exhausted to notice.

"The princess didn't do it on purpose. But it might as well have been deliberate."

With a sigh, the duke explained what had happened.

At first, when the Magic Tower's disciple and the student from the sinister Black Magic faction disappeared, leaving only Yukveltire behind, the duke had felt slightly relieved.

After all, if he had to pick the most honorable and trustworthy mage among those three, it would naturally be the royal, wouldn't it?

And Yukveltire had indeed behaved with proper etiquette, just as the duke had expected.

"Thank you for sponsoring my Artificial Dimension research, Your Grace."

"I'm simply delighted to assist such an outstanding mage of Einrogard."

"If there's anything you desire, please let me know. I'll do my best to accommodate you."

"Hmph. In return, you'll have to sponsor more of my research, won't you? Fine. Since I'll have to pay the gold anyway... Who knows how much longer I'll be trapped in Einrogard? I might as well take this chance to have a proper meal. The food the Death Knights bring is dreadfully dull."

Once this week ended and he was sent back to the solitary confinement guarded by the Death Knights, he'd be stuck with boring meals again.

So the duke ordered the kind of extravagant feasts he used to enjoy.

Surely, the brilliant mages of Einrogard's student body would be able to prepare them without issue.

His assumption was almost entirely correct...

Except for the unfortunate fact that one of the few exceptions was standing right in front of him.

"Truffle-topped wilted salad, two-day-old chicory ham, and beans harvested from the southern Empire. Is that correct?"

"You must be joking. Are you mocking me right now?"

"My apologies, Your Grace. Could you repeat that, please?"

"...So, the truffle-topped..."

At first, when the Princess couldn't remember the menu correctly, the Duke thought it couldn't possibly be that bad.

After all, she was a senior student at Einrogard, wasn't she?

But that "couldn't possibly" soon turned into a merciless reality.

"I've prepared it. Please eat."

"Oh! Thank— What is this?"

"Truffle-less prosciutto ham, chicory salad harvested less than two days ago, and a southern Empire-style mushroom consommé."

"...Is this garbage?"

"Your Grace, provoking me with such meaningless insults is pointless."

"I'm not trying to provoke you! No, just look at this!"

The Duke was genuinely dumbfounded.

It wasn't even a dish that was hard to make if you had the ingredients. Making it this disastrous seemed like more effort.

The ham was frozen solid and stuck to the bowl, the chicory salad reeked of some bizarre sauce, and the mushroom consommé had chunks of roughly chopped fish and meat floating around instead of a clear broth.

"The ham is frozen!"

"Cold dishes are a delicacy, aren't they?"

"It's not cold—it's frozen! And what the hell is this salad dressing?!"

"I heard the essence of a salad lies in its dressing."

"And the consommé?! What are these chunks supposed to be?!"

"I tried enriching the flavor by adding leftover ingredients..."

The Duke seriously wondered if the Princess had done this to humiliate him, but after a long conversation, he finally understood.

The Princess knew absolutely nothing about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cooking.

"And yet, she had the audacity to be overly confident and tried cooking on her own! When I pointed it out, she accused me of provoking her with meaningless insults! Ugh!"

The Duke was so aggrieved and frustrated that veins bulged in his neck as he shouted.

It wasn't even a difficult request—just following the recipe would've yielded something far better than this.

"O-Oh, I see. But, Your Grace... If the senior was so terrible at cooking, couldn't you have just asked for the ingredients instead?"

"I didn't say she was that bad... But yes, I did say that. From now on, forget all this. Just bring me whatever meal you're eating."

Lee Han was puzzled by the Duke's words.

Then wasn't the problem solved? 'Why is he starving like this?'

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"...Do you see that?"

The Duke pointed at a table outside the bars. On it was a single, thinly sliced piece of bread.

"I see it."

"That's a day's worth of meals."

"Is that... what's left after eating?"

"No! That's the Princess's daily meal!!"

The Duke screamed as if having a fit. Lee Han took a step back, overwhelmed by his outburst.

"Who would've guessed the Princess ate so little?! Damn it, she should've at least told me! How is anyone supposed to survive on that?!"

To make matters worse, Yukveltire had left days ago after dropping off the food, leaving the Duke stranded.

From the Duke's perspective, it was maddening.

He had no choice but to starve, with no one to complain to.

"Give me food, damn it!"

Duke Icaldoren realized that in the face of true hunger, titles and prestige meant nothing.

When Lee Han hastily pulled out a can of beef and handed it over, the Duke pried it open and shoveled the contents into his mouth with his hands.

Creak—

"!"

The sound of the door opening from above startled both Lee Han and the Duke.

Lee Han was startled because he'd been trying to secure some extra sponsorship behind his senior's back, while the Duke was just plain startled.

But the person who entered was someone neither had seen before.

He limped, leaning on a crutch on one side, and had cooking tools—a kitchen knife, ladle, and spatula—hanging from his waist.

Topped off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a chef's hat, he exuded the air of an extremely fussy and irritable cook.

The man scanned Lee Han up and down before asking curtly,

"Are you the boy from the Wardanaz family?"

"...Yes. Who are you?"

"I'm the Kitchen Keeper."

"!"

He was one of the Skeleton Principal's underlings—someone Lee Han had never seen before. Startled, Lee Han spoke up.

"It's my first time meeting you."

"Obviously. I've never seen you either. And I haven't seen the second-years either. Because of you. Thanks to that, I couldn't even collect staves and got an earful for it. This is also your fault."

"...???"