Chapter 46
A Mistake? I blinked.
I hadn’t even tasted it yet, but was it so bad that they were calling it a mistake?
That couldn’t be it. Unless…
“Shall I cook for you myself?”
Dielo suggested with a gentle smile.
From those words, I was certain.
Something was wrong with the food.
“Alright.”
As I nodded, I clearly saw it—
the strange glances exchanged among the maids standing by to serve.
“This way, then.”
Did Dielo sense it too?
He softly brushed the back of my hand as he led me away.
Through his long lashes, eyes the color of a pale lake shimmered.
“I’ll personally attend to you, my bride.”
He escorted me with an intensity reserved only for me.
I could see the maids deliberately turning their gazes away.
…Yes, this must be what Dielo was aiming for.
“Alright.”
I rose to follow him—
all the while recalling the red blood I had glimpsed when he wiped his mouth with the napkin earlier.
Dielo and I entered the kitchen.
He had even dismissed the chefs from the stoves, leaving the spacious room to just the two of us.
“You can cook?”
At my question, Dielo tilted his head slightly.
“I don’t know if I can satisfy you, Crua.”
So he could cook. I smiled lightly.
“I’m not exactly picky.”
His eyes widened.
“Really?”
His face looked as though he truly couldn’t believe it.
Only then did I remember the original story:
Crua had such refined taste that she went through at least eight chefs from House Alloge before finally selecting her own personal cook.
“…If it’s you cooking, of course.”
I quickly covered up.
Even though there wasn’t anyone from below the third floor around to witness our “loving couple” act, the words left me embarrassed, and I found myself fanning my face.
“Since you’re being so kind, I’ll just have to try harder.”
Dielo chuckled softly.
Fortunately, what he intended to cook wasn’t complicated—
grilled mushrooms and pasta made with them, a favorite of Crua’s.
As I watched him work, I asked, even though I knew he was trying not to show it:
“It was poison, wasn’t it?”
That was why he had pulled us from the table. Why he insisted on cooking himself.
His hand froze for a moment on the pan.
“For me to have a bride like you is… too much.”
“What?”
It was a voice so soft it was barely audible—
and low enough to make my heart skip for a second.
Not that I needed to resist it.
If I had to deceive others, I needed to deceive myself first.
I was just trying to steady my thoughts when—
“I think the ingredients were tainted.”
—Fwoosh!
White flames of pure magic flared from his fingertips, sweeping over the food.
Ah. That was a power mentioned in the original work.
“It’s the Flame of Purification,” Dielo explained shortly.
He flicked the white fire dancing at his fingertips.
“It neutralizes poison. It’s the reason House Argenta has suffered far fewer poisonings than other noble houses…”
His eyes narrowed.
“Fortunately, our enemy doesn’t seem to know that.”
—Clink.
He set a plate before me.
The dish steamed enticingly, golden and appetizing.
Even the plating was elegant—clearly, he wasn’t new to cooking.
“You must cook often?”
“Even if I can neutralize poison…”
He smiled faintly, though his face twisted with a trace of pain.
“I couldn’t always rely on it.”
Of course. He couldn’t very well check every meal with flames in front of everyone.
That would make the atmosphere tense, and instead of being seen as gentle, he’d be branded as suspicious.
“Too overcooked?”
Dielo tapped the edge of the pasta plate, as if doubting himself.
I twirled the noodles with my fork.
“It’s perfect.”
Overcooked pasta really is tasteless.
I might not be as much of a gourmet as the Crua in the original, but I could appreciate this much.
“That’s a relief.”
Dielo set down an identical plate before himself, as though now we could finally share a proper meal.
…But was it really safe?
Even with the Flame of Purification…
Almost as if reading my worries, Dielo tasted his pasta first.
“There’s no problem now, Crua.”
“You’re sure?”
But surely this pasta wasn’t the only issue.
When he had wiped his mouth earlier, I had seen blood.
“You ate poison.”
At my words, Dielo gave a gentle smile.
“My kind bride.”
His voice sounded almost like a melody.
“An Argenta who can wield the Flame of Purification wouldn’t be undone by such a trivial dose of poison.”
That may be true. But then why the blood?
Unconsciously, I studied his face more closely.
Dielo blinked those lake-like eyes and smiled.
“I’m fine. If anything feels wrong, I’ll tell you.”
Then he leaned in just a little.
“Now that I’ve entered into a contract with Crua, my body is no longer mine alone.”
“That’s…”
It was true.
But the way he said such ordinary words with that subtle undertone—did he know how it sounded?
Dielo lifted his fork, as if urging me to eat.
…This really did look like a honeymoon scene.
I scratched my cheek, feeling awkward.
That night, several Argenta servants were dismissed.
Not only the head chef and assistants, but also those who had supplied the ingredients.
—Thud.
In the darkened dining hall, Rick, the head of intelligence, stepped out wearing a bright smile.
He wiped blood spattered across his face with a white napkin, then burned it to ash with flame.
“The Intelligence Division is already tracking the mastermind.”
Dielo told me the next morning.
The problem with the food had been because an enemy had infiltrated the supply chain.
“Be careful, Crua.”
The infiltrators had been exposed, but the true mastermind remained hidden.
It was almost certainly either Alloge or Cartiel.
“Until we know, you should always keep the knights of the fourth floor, or me, at your side.”
Until the culprit was caught—
Dielo’s expression was deeply worried.
The morning sun was bright, its light slipping through the heavy curtains, making his face shine with every gleam.
As I lay in bed, his hand gently brushed through my hair, his eyes trembling faintly.
“Even if it feels suffocating.”
He toyed with my hair between his fingers, then pulled the blanket up over my shoulders.
“…”
I had never placed much meaning in the fact that we shared a bed.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t.
But his warmth reached me in a way that lingered, and I found myself just staring at him.
“Crua?”
I only came to myself when Dielo called my name again.
“…Alright.”
There was no reason to complain.
I always stayed close to the knights of the fourth floor, or to Dielo anyway.
And Dielo’s concern soon proved justified.
This time, it was midday, as I was putting on a dress for an outing.
“This is the dress prepared for today’s schedule.”
It had clearly come from the fourth-floor maids.
But when I opened the box, I caught a strange scent.
Or rather—a strange magical aura.
“…?”
You could call it instinct.
“Shall I turn away, or…”
Dielo glanced at me, his expression carrying a hint of playful mischief—something rare and surprising.
“Shall I personally help you dress?”
…Dielo, personally helping me change?
—Rustle.
At those words, the surrounding maids all withdrew at once.
Honestly, did they have to make it that obvious?
