Dinner with the survey team was a few hours later than usual. It was getting dark outside. The lighting in the Viscountess dining room wasn’t bad, although it couldn’t compete with the chandeliers in the Count’s mansion.

The lamps, arranged in bunches like bouquets of flowers, created a charming atmosphere. One by one, delicious-looking dishes were brought to the table.

“Pleased to meet you, Viscountess. My name is Arthur Wood. Your outfit is very stylish.”

Said the first member of the investigation team to arrive.

Arthur had come down with El and greeted her politely. Martian had changed into a softly flowing dress, and Arthur even commented on the delicate brooch that adorned it, continuing the conversation smoothly.

Despite his solid and sturdy appearance, he was surprisingly talkative.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but El Doan never even looks at ordinary restaurants in the capital. He always eats the same dishes and can’t stop bragging about cooking at home! You can’t imagine how excited I am to finally taste that famous food tonight…”

“What are you talking about? I have taken you everywhere you have wanted to go! And I’m not picky about food!”

“Sure, you went. But if you didn’t like something, you wouldn’t even touch it! That’s why we always made it a point to go somewhere you liked – did you really not notice?”

“You – are you serious?”

El poked Arthur sharply in the side and turned to Martian with a flushed face to explain herself.

“Arthur just likes to exaggerate, that’s all. I’m too old to be picky about what I eat. I really don’t do that.”

Arthur chimed in again, grinning.

“Of course, Viscountess. El isn’t a picky eater. He just has very clear preferences. Of course, everyone ends up going to the places they like. You can’t really call that picky, can you?”

El gave Arthur another jab in the ribs, his face refusing to cool down. He’d been scolded many times growing up for being a picky eater, and now that it had been revealed that he still lived that way, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

Martian gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Why are you so self-conscious? Did you think I’d scold you for eating? You’re an adult now. If you want to be selective, that’s your right. Just make sure it doesn’t affect your health.”

“No, it’s not like that, ma’am. Really, I’m not picky…”

El mumbled, sounding adorably nervous.

‘No matter how much he grows, he’s still a child.’

Martian thought fondly as she led them to their assigned seats.

Once they were seated, the rest of the survey team began to trickle into the dining room.

All the dishes served for dinner were praiseworthy, but the highlight was undoubtedly the roast goose.

The skin was crisp and perfectly seasoned, while the meat inside was tender and free of any gamy odour, thanks to a well-chosen blend of spices. The sauce used to dip the slices of meat was excellent and the wine paired with the meal was simply perfect.

The good food naturally lifted everyone’s spirits and the atmosphere became lively and cheerful.

In the middle of the meal, introductions were made. Each member took turns to introduce themselves, not to each other – as they already knew each other – but to Martians.

“I am Professor Loa, in charge of the overall management of this expedition, Viscountess.”

“You have met me before – Arthur. I’m in charge of the medicines and supplies for the team.”

The atmosphere remained pleasantly light throughout.

Professor Loa was from one of the large families that had made their way to the Central Regions and was also well acquainted with Huey. As the members of the investigation team were already familiar with each other, conversation flowed naturally and never ran dry.

The dining room buzzed with lively, cheerful chatter.

After the main meal was served without a hitch, dessert was served – sweets of which Head Chef Hannah was particularly proud.

Everyone marvelled at the desserts, but no one was more enthusiastic than Professor Loa.

He devoured four pieces in no time – both the chocolate cake, sprinkled with pieces of broken chocolate, and the egg cake, topped with a layer of caramelised sugar.

“My word, the texture of these cakes is extraordinary. The chocolate cake balances bitterness and sweetness beautifully, and there’s a lovely citrus note at the end – perhaps a hint of tangerine? The balance is simply exquisite. And the egg tart! It’s beautifully rich and smooth, with an incredible buttery flavour. You are so lucky to have such a talented chef, Viscountess. I can already tell I’m going to miss this food when we leave.”

Judging by his appearance, you would think he ate nothing but whole roasted meat.

Martian put aside her prejudices about appearance and gratefully accepted his compliments.

“The chef will be pleased. If there’s a particular dessert you’d like, please let me know. I’ll make arrangements.”

“Oh, would that be all right?”

“Well, for the next three or four days, the desserts that the chef has already prepared will be served first.”

“I’d be happy with those too! I’m really looking forward to the next few days.”

The professor said enthusiastically.

Although the Professor was a nobleman without a title, Martians treated him with respect and courtesy. After all, a professor at the Imperial Academy had as much influence as a count, and more importantly, he had come here to help.

The professor, who was enjoying his dessert, soon turned to Huey, who was sitting opposite him, and struck up a conversation.

“How have you been, Count? I hear you’ve been living in Sevan territory ever since you moved there. The joy of building your first domain must be considerable, isn’t it?”

At the head of the long table sat Martian, the owner of the estate, with the Professor and Huey to her immediate left and right. The seating arrangement, determined by their rank and role, also indicated the order of the guests to whom Martian had to pay the most attention.

Martian kept the conversation going with light, casual banter with the Professor, but barely spoke to Huey throughout the meal. Huey, for his part, was mostly silent; had the professor not spoken to him, he might not have said a word all evening.

Martian waited for Huey’s answer with a slightly amused expression on his face.

“Yes… Hic… that’s good. Applying what I learned at the Academy… has been a valuable experience.”

Huey replied, pausing awkwardly between words, his face flushed as if slightly drunk.

The Professor, pleased by the continued formality in Huey’s tone, chuckled heartily.

“Count, really – you don’t have to be so formal with me anymore. You graduated a long time ago, and we’re no longer in a student-teacher relationship. Every time you treat me like this, I hardly know where to put myself.”

With a warm smile, the professor added that he had been overly polite Huey even in his Academy days.

It was both a compliment to Huey’s character and a boast that such a distinguished young man had once studied under him.

The professor soon moved on to praise Huey’s abilities.

“Count, you have achieved a great deal academically during your time at the Academy, haven’t you? Now that you’re applying those theories to actual domain management, I expect you to produce remarkable results again soon. Everyone is looking forward to it.”

Huey barely responded, but the professor, buoyed by his drink, was oblivious.

He went on to recount Huey’s accomplishments at the Academy, anecdote after anecdote that underscored how outstanding and remarkable Huey had been.

Of course, the professor framed these memories to reflect a little pride in himself.

Martian listened indulgently as she looked at Huey.

His face remained stiff and red; it was clear that he wasn’t in a state to really pay attention.

With a small smile, she looked around the room.

Most of the members of the investigation team were now visibly drunk, their faces flushed.

Martian gave a small nod to the butler – a signal to start winding down for the evening.

The servants moved in to discreetly assist the investigators, escorting them one by one to their rooms.

In the end, only the Professor – who kept repeating how much he was looking forward to more dessert – and the stiffly frozen Count remained at the table.

Soon the Professor slumped forward on the table, muttering about how he knew of a wonderful cake shop in the capital and how he must invite everyone there.

Three male servants rushed over to lift his massive body.

The Professor, still repeating how happy he was, was finally carried away.

Only the Count remained.

It was late at night.

The butler approached him, ready to help respectfully, but it was Martian who intervened.

“I’ll show the count to his room.”

“Pardon? But it might be difficult for you to assist him alone…”

“It’s all right. The Count should still be able to walk on his own.”

She said, turning briefly to Huey with a questioning look, as if seeking his agreement.

Huey bit his lip lightly and struggled to his feet.

The butler, still looking concerned, hesitated, but Martian gestured firmly for him to leave.

Huey’s room was on the second floor, not far from the dining room.

Despite the short distance, Huey had to stop several times on the way.

His whole face was flushed and soft moans escaped his lips.

His legs were shaking so badly that, without realising it, he was leaning against Martian for support.

Huey tried to resist, afraid of overburdening them, but soon even that thought slipped away.

Eventually Martian, who had waited patiently for him to walk on his own, took his arm and began to lead him directly.

Her pace was far too much for his weakened state to keep up with.

“Hic… Wait… slow, slow… ah, ngh!”

Huey collapsed to the ground.

His knees and hands burned from the impact, but his oversensitised body interpreted even that pain as some kind of stimulation.

His lower body shook uncontrollably. The tension that had been building for hours became even more unbearable, making the restraint he wore around his g*nitals feel like it was about to snap.

Still, he raised his head.

Martian looked down at him, smiling slightly.

“Shall I call someone for you? If you need help walking…”

“No. No, I can walk, hic, I can walk.”

He answered reflexively in the formal language.

For the person standing before him wasn’t just any Viscountess – she was his master.

Looking down at him, she silently urged him to hold on.

Huey exhaled heavily, gasping for air.