Clodine shot Ahazan a sharp look as he teased her lightly. But when he actually reached out as if he truly intended to feed her the soup himself, she reluctantly lifted her spoon.

She stirred the soup first instead of bringing it straight to her lips. Just as he had said, there were no remarkable ingredients in sight. Yet the sharp, refreshing scent pricking her nose was unfamiliar, she could not guess what had been used.

Ignoring the persistent sting in her left hand, she took a spoonful and placed it in her mouth.

“Kegh—!”

Clodine had always possessed impeccable table manners. No matter how unpleasant a dish might be, once it entered her mouth she would swallow it gracefully, never betraying her distaste.

For her to grimace and cough after tasting something was almost unheard of.

Which meant the soup was truly dreadful.

“What on earth is this taste?”

She stared at Ahazan with wide eyes. For that brief moment, she completely forgot about her burned hand.

Ahazan merely shrugged, as if her reaction had been expected.

“I told you it wouldn’t taste good.”

“This isn’t just ‘not good’…”

“Endure it. At least for the sake of the person worrying about you. It might get better the more you eat.”

Which clearly implied it probably wouldn’t.

Clodine glared down at the bowl. If only that bitter, bark-like astringency could be softened somehow, she might manage it.

She felt absurd, like a child throwing a fit over food.

Summoning her resolve, she took another spoonful. She didn’t cough this time, but she couldn’t stop her face from twisting.

A low chuckle drifted from Ahazan.

She frowned at him deeply, only for him to open the lid of the small creamer on the tray with deliberate flourish. Inside were several brightly colored candies dusted in white powder.

“If you finish it, I’ll give you one.”

He popped a candy into his own mouth.

Ahazan had never liked sweets as a child. The fact that he now sucked on one so cheerfully meant either his tastes had changed completely—or he was simply provoking her.

Clodine narrowed her eyes at him.

Then, mimicking his earlier gesture, she gave a small shrug.

This time, she swallowed spoonful after spoonful without complaint, without grimacing. The taste remained atrocious, but she behaved as though she had grown used to it.

Five, six spoonfuls later, the bowl was empty.

“See? Not so bad, right?”

He said this while lazily rolling a sweet across his tongue, an irresponsible remark if there ever was one.

Clodine set down the spoon, suppressing the bitter aftertaste still clinging to her mouth. Her injured hand throbbed. The mysterious soup churned unpleasantly in her stomach. Everything felt uncomfortable.

And then—

A large hand suddenly appeared beside her lowered face.

It gently lifted her chin.

Startled, she followed the motion, and before she understood what was happening, something soft and sweet brushed against her lips, then something firm and sticky slipped into her mouth.

Her eyes flew wide as Ahazan’s face retreated.

He traced his thumb slowly across his own lips and smiled smoothly.

“It was too sweet. I couldn’t finish it.”

His low voice brushed against her ear as sweetness bloomed across her tongue.

Clodine snapped her lips shut around the round candy that had been transferred from his mouth to hers.

She should have said something. Should have scolded him.

But the candy was so sweet that, instead, she found herself savoring it.

Heat that had begun in her burned fingertips now crept up her face.

Flustered, she abruptly rose from her seat.

She had forced down that terrible soup to reduce her fever, only to have her temperature rise again because of Ahazan’s antics.

Her heart pounded dangerously.

Hating that feeling, hating how shaken she was, she turned quickly to leave the kitchen.

“Spend the day quietly under the blankets.”

His mischievous voice followed her.

She didn’t respond. She merely bit down harder on the candy and fled.

***

After his ungrateful guest escaped without so much as a word of thanks, Ahazan remained alone in the quiet kitchen, tidying the cluttered counter.

He could have called the servants.

He didn’t.

He wanted to savor the lingering warmth of that morning just a little longer.

In the war camps, he had often cooked alongside his soldiers. In that desolate environment, it had become a kind of diversion, something almost enjoyable.

But he had never imagined he would one day use those skills for Clodine.

He knew the soup tasted terrible. He had endured it himself before.

But to see the proud Lady Ramier, who had been praised since childhood for her refinement and elegance, frown so fiercely while eating…

It was a sight worth remembering.

The way her lips had pressed tight as she forced herself to swallow—

Adorable.

‘Her pride is sky-high, after all.’

Even after being teased with candy, she had emptied the bowl without blinking. That alone deserved applause.

‘So how could I resist?’

Ahazan justified the kiss he had stolen moments earlier as unavoidable, then let out a quiet laugh.

“Your Majesty! What are you doing?!”

The familiar voice cut through the air.

The amusement vanished from his face instantly.

He turned sharply toward the doorway and locked eyes with Cal Regerson, who stood there staring in horror.

“Where are all the servants? And why is Your Majesty doing such menial work—”

“Quiet. Stop making a fuss.”

Ahazan’s tone had grown cold, entirely different from the warmth he had shown Clodine.

“You leave my side for a moment and this is what happens.”

Snatching the cloth from Ahazan’s hand and wiping down the counter himself.

Ahazan let out a short breath of amusement, this time of a different kind.

But the lightness faded quickly.

The chill returned to his expression.

“Did you find anything?”

Cal straightened at once, finishing the last of the tidying.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I have yet to uncover any decisive clues regarding the culprit behind the murdered maids. The families of the missing private soldiers are still nowhere to be found.”

Since arriving at the villa, Ahazan had been sending Cal out frequently to investigate the murders. Cal moved tirelessly between the villa and the imperial palace, gathering information, but there was still nothing concrete to report.

“However, there is something peculiar about the body of one of the deceased maids, Pellier Sanderson.”

Ahazan tilted his head slightly and folded his arms across his chest, signaling him to continue.

“You remember… the body whose face was completely disfigured. That woman.”

Ahazan gave a brief nod, indicating he knew which one. Cal went on.

“As the body decomposed, it swelled, hands, feet, the entire body. And yet, strangely, the ring she was wearing still fit perfectly.”

“A ring?”

“Yes. A very expensive sapphire ring. If her fingers had swollen that much, the ring should have tightened painfully. But it did not. Which means the ring must have originally been quite loose on her finger… and if that were the case, she could not possibly have kept it during t*rture severe enough to rip out her fingernails.”

The more he listened, the more unnatural it sounded.

Ahazan gave a faint nod.

“And hers was the only body whose face was destroyed beyond recognition.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The matter grew more suspicious the more he considered it. Ahazan cast a sharp glance around, making sure Clodine was nowhere near the kitchen before asking quietly,

“Have you found Tomas Olandor?”

Cal’s eyes lit up as if he had been waiting for that question.

“With a little more time, I believe we will. There are countless gambling dens in the Rembran territory.”

“It won’t be easy, but hurry. If we probe too long and our trail is exposed, he’ll burrow even deeper.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost.”

When the grim conversation ended, silence briefly settled between them. Feeling awkward, Cal picked up the cloth he had set aside and began wiping the counter again for no real reason.

Ahazan watched him expressionlessly before speaking.

“Do you remember that red soup that worked well against fever? The one we often ate during the Northern Empire campaign.”

“How could I forget, Your Majesty.”

Ahazan narrowed his eyes slightly.

“The name was absurdly strange, but I can’t recall it. What was it?”

Cal stared at him in disbelief.

“How could you forget the infamous ‘Devil’s Armpit Soup,’ Your Majesty?”

***

‘I should have firmly told him never to do that again.’

Clodine sat atop a creaking piece of furniture, staring down at her feet. It was tall enough that her legs dangled in the air. Her bare feet, freed from their shoes, were pale and delicate.

The candy was still in her mouth. It was so hard it would not break easily. She rolled it gently along her tongue and lifted her head.

Her gaze fell upon a painting hanging on the wall.

A small still life, set within a simple wooden frame.

She had meant to return to the second-floor bedroom as soon as she left the kitchen, but somehow her feet had carried her to the third floor instead. Of the many rooms there, she had chosen the most secluded and worn one to hide in.

The dim room was pierced only by thin streaks of light from a small window. Furniture and odds and ends draped in white sheets lined the walls without gap.

Clodine alternated between examining the blister on her left hand and staring blankly at the still life. In between, she shifted the candy from one cheek to the other, savoring its sweetness.

“Roses and lilies…”

She murmured softly.

In the painting, roses and lilies were intertwined in a single bouquet set in a vase. No other flowers were present.

The frame was not ornate, nor was the painting large. And yet, for some reason, it drew her eyes again and again.

The painting itself was clearly the work of a skilled artist who had labored over it carefully. In contrast, the place it hung and the modest frame seemed almost careless.

After spending some time idly gazing at the roses and lilies, Clodine realized she needed to treat the burn on her hand.

If Merian asked how she had burned herself, she did not know what she would say. The girl already tended to the many wounds scattered across Clodine’s body each night. Adding another would only trouble her further.

Worse still, if Merian mentioned it and Ahazan learned the burn had happened in the kitchen, he might realize what she had done.

That, more than anything, would be troublesome.

Clodine pushed aside the growing noise in her mind and walked toward the door.

But before she could open it, she stopped.

Slowly, she lifted the eyes she had been keeping lowered.

Moments ago, her gaze had been dull and unfocused. Now, a sharp light flickered within it.