Axid Castle, despite its massive scale, was surprisingly austere inside. Unlike the ornate and intricate castles in other regions or the royal palace itself, this fortress bore little embellishment. It perfectly reflected the character of the northern territory—dominated by muted, achromatic tones and furnished only with the essentials. Even those few decorations were mostly heirlooms passed down by the previous dukes over the years.
The castle’s dining hall was no different. While the room was vast and the table wide enough to host dozens, the atmosphere remained simple. Aside from the elegance of the dark ebony wood used for the table and chairs, there wasn’t much to catch the eye.
And yet, to Ressas, the sight before him was more beautiful than anything else in the entire kingdom.
“I had them try something new again today. Please, enjoy it.”
In front of Ressas was an assortment of vibrant and varied dishes. Over the past month, he had tasted more kinds of food than he had in his entire life.
But for someone whose life had been defined more by hunger than fullness, food was never something he’d been familiar with.
Ever since Seiyad had taken him in as a child, Ressas hadn’t gone truly hungry again. Still, he had always known his place. The North was never rich in resources, and even the limited supply of quality ingredients was reserved for the Brosius family.
Seiyad had always tried to take care of him, but Ressas—ever conscious of being a freeloader—kept his distance. He never wanted to take what rightfully belonged to Seiyad’s family.
He could count on one hand the number of meals they had shared together. Seiyad was always busy, and Ressas didn’t want to be a bother, so he usually ate alone in his room.
Even though his title of “prince” held little real power, the Duke and Duchess still found it difficult to treat him casually. So he never asked for more than the bare minimum.
Still, those had been happy times. He no longer had to worry about freezing to death, or starving. And above all, he had grown up in a place where Seiyad existed—what more could anyone want?
And yet, sometimes—just sometimes—Ressas felt a strange kind of hunger. Whenever Seiyad spent long hours away, surrounded by others, a deep loneliness would creep in. That emptiness would dig its claws into him.
A hollow ache, like his insides had been scooped out, would eventually twist into a ravenous hunger. Whenever that hunger seized his stomach, he was dragged back into memories of his younger, hungrier self—helpless and fading.
He remembered how his stomach, empty and desperate, would twist on itself. How the sharp, stabbing pain would flash through a numb body. How he once clawed at the frozen ground in an attempt to eat dirt, only to end up vomiting in bitter solitude.
Whenever that long-buried fear came rushing back, Ressas missed Seiyad so much it felt unbearable. Waiting for him to return became a habit. Not that he ever needed an excuse—his eyes had always followed Seiyad and no one else….
“Thank you, Eid. Everything looks amazing. I’ll enjoy it.”
Ressas smiled softly and picked up his utensils. His pale, graceful hand reached out, hovering carefully above the dishes before selecting his first bite. A chickpea soup with beaten egg—its warm aroma alone made it look delicious.
Watching Ressas bypass the many meat dishes for that simple soup, Seiyad let out a quiet chuckle. When that low, rumbling laugh reached his ears, Ressas looked up and gave a sheepish smile.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Eid? I’ll start if you do.”
“You should eat first, Your Highness. That’s the order of things.”
Seiyad always said the same thing at every meal, patiently waiting for Ressas to take the first bite. But Ressas, who also wanted to see his lover eat well, couldn’t help but ask again and again.
“Still, you’re the master of this castle, Eid.”
At Ressas’s gentle insistence, Seiyad reluctantly pretended to examine the food. He wasn’t particularly gluttonous—if anything, his appetite was minimal—but he ate a lot when he did, and his preferences were clear.
Since Seiyad usually started his day with meat, the table was laid with all kinds of it: skewers of wild duck, spicy grilled mountain rabbit, and stuffed chicken packed with pork and veal, cooked with egg, cheese, saffron, and spices.
“I’ll have this one. So please, go ahead and eat.”
With a casual expression, Seiyad gestured toward the duck skewers. Normally a servant would assist during meals, but since it was a late breakfast, and Ressas had asked not to be disturbed, the two of them were alone in the hall.
“Wait just a moment.”
Not wanting Seiyad to lift a finger, Ressas quickly picked up a fork and knife and began cutting the meat. It was so tender it sliced easily with little effort. Once he’d portioned it into bite-sized pieces and slid the plate over, Seiyad gave him a quiet look, as if flustered by the gesture, and spoke in a low, almost shy voice.
“Thank you.”
Ressas’ brows curved slightly as his heart swelled with emotion. The man he loved was thanking him over something so small—when Ressas would have done anything for him. Just hearing those simple words made his heart pound so hard it almost hurt. His body flushed with warmth. He’d rinsed himself in cold water earlier to cool off after sending Seiyad away, but it seemed his self-control had already begun to wear thin.
He needed to redirect his thoughts—quickly. With slightly trembling hands, he pulled the soup bowl closer and fixed his gaze on the food. Lifting his spoon, he took a sip. A warm, nutty flavor spread gently through his mouth. It seemed to be a chickpea soup made with onions, a touch of chicken, and finely ground almonds.
“It’s really good.”
He whispered it softly, and Seiyad gave a faint, pleased smile before finally beginning to eat. Seeing that, Ressas let out a quiet breath and resumed his own meal. He mostly picked at soft slices of bread and small tarts made from dried herbs and fish, while Seiyad, having already cleared a plate of meat, suddenly spoke up.
“You seem to prefer greens and fish, Your Highness.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. Even your preference for lighter seasoning makes you rather herbivorous.”
Now that he said it, it was true. This winter, Ressas had started to understand his own tastes for the first time. He liked vegetables and fruit far more than meat, and while he didn’t dislike meat, he preferred fish. But even if there wasn’t any fish, it didn’t bother him—he was content with potatoes or other root vegetables instead.
Just like Seiyad said, he liked his food mild. Among all flavors, sour notes were the easiest for him to enjoy. Still, Ressas wasn’t picky. He was grateful for every meal and never turned anything away. Having preferences was a new concept—one he’d never even imagined before.
His mother had at least ensured he didn’t go hungry, and life had been better than his earliest years. But after his awakening, things had changed. Nox had used his older brother as a puppet and tried to poison him more times than he could count.
It wasn’t just assassins—there had been brainwashed attendants who, at random times, tried to feed him all sorts of things. Because of that, Ressas had developed a heightened sensitivity around eating. It wasn’t death itself that frightened him. What terrified him was dying too early—losing his chance to save Seiyad.
So over time, he formed the habit of not caring about taste, only whether the food was safe. That was why, until now, he’d never really known what he liked.
“Do I really seem like an animal to you?”
His preferences still didn’t feel like something worth considering, but the way Seiyad had phrased it stuck with him. Trying to sound unaffected, Ressas asked the question calmly. Maybe it was a foolish desire to look good in front of someone he loved—but even for someone like him, who thought so little of himself, Seiyad’s words had lingered.
Seiyad must have noticed the worry clouding his deep violet eyes. A small smile lifted one corner of his lips.
“Yes.”
“Can I ask… what kind of animal?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Please tell me, Eid.”
Seiyad studied him in silence for a moment, then offered a condition.
“If you promise to grant me a wish, I’ll tell you.”
“If it’s something you want, Eid, I’d do it without needing a wish.”
“Then why haven’t you granted the one I already asked for—treating yourself with respect?”
He had a point. Ressas still didn’t know how to value himself. He followed Seiyad’s guidance, but breaking habits and ways of thinking that had been carved into him over years wasn’t something that happened overnight.
“Of course, that’s something I’ll help you learn. But regardless—this time, I want your promise.”
“All right. I promise.”
Wanting so badly to earn his trust, Ressas set down his utensils and reached out across the table. Seiyad, still expressionless, watched him for a moment, then extended his hand in return. Ressas grabbed it firmly and spoke with quiet determination.
“I know I haven’t given you much reason to believe in me. But when it comes to what you ask, I’m confident I can follow through. No matter how long it takes, I’ll do it.”
“And that’s exactly what I meant.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to go to such lengths just to match yourself to me. I’m only telling you what I want. If something doesn’t feel right to you, or if you disagree, you’re allowed to say no. That includes this promise, and everything else I’ve asked of you.”
Damn every chapter is still full of knives
I’m really glad that these two have each other now. They’ve been through too much.