Episode 8
The Lord hated being contradicted. If I spoke up needlessly, it might only backfire, so I had better not bring it up again.
“I’ll finish preparing the meal.”
Starting with the order to neatly place the fork and spoon, the table was gradually filled. It still wasn’t up to Taylor’s meticulous standards, but eventually a semblance of a proper meal setting was arranged. That was when the long-awaited guest appeared.
But Staria, who arrived freshly cleaned up, somehow looked uneasy.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“Uh…….”
I can’t speak!
Staria screamed inwardly, desperately hoping someone would notice her condition, but Taylor didn’t understand.
“Ah, you must be thirsty.”
Taylor filled a glass of water halfway and handed it to her.
“Even if you’re parched, drink slowly. The human stomach gets upset even with just water.”
“Ahhh! Uh-uhhh!”
No, I’ve lost my voice! Even if I get spanked, all that comes out are strange sounds!
Staria clutched her throat and smacked her backside repeatedly, using every bit of hand signals, gestures, and frantic eye movements to get her message across—but nothing was understood.
“If you have a complaint, you need to say it. I can’t help you if you just throw a fit.”
I told you, I can’t talk!
The more frustrated Taylor grew, the more frustrated Staria became. What if she had truly gone mute forever? The fear that she might never recover her voice made her eyes well up with tears.
It felt like being stranded on a deserted island. She had barely survived, only to end up isolated and wounded, with death looming. The world felt pitch dark—until…
“A mayfly that can’t even talk now? Really, you find every way to be pathetic.”
Staria’s head snapped up. The one who had come sailing to “rescue” her was none other than him.
She quickly rushed toward Haska, the only one who could understand her garbled voice.
“Uh-uhhh, huhhh, uh-uhhh.”
“Your voice suddenly stopped working, and you don’t know why?”
Staria felt the knot in her chest loosen just a little—he understood her perfectly. Desperate, she clung to the one person she could communicate with.
“Uhh-uhhh?”
“You’re asking how to fix it? Why ask me that?”
Hope deflated with a hiss. The only one who could throw her a lifeline had no interest in helping her.
Dishes representing land, sea, and air filled the clumsily arranged table.
Grease dripped enticingly from meats she hadn’t seen in half a month, but Staria couldn’t even pretend to pick up her fork. Her appetite had vanished completely.
“This is Arginine Fish, which swims upstream this season to spawn. The roe are full, so it’s packed with nutrients.”
“……”
“If you don’t like fish, how about Brown Turkey? The meat is tender yet chewy—the texture is exquisite.”
“……”
Taylor enthusiastically explained each dish, but nothing could bring back her appetite. How could food matter when the future looked so bleak?
“I heard you were chased by mysterious assailants? A friend of mine also fell mute from trauma. He eventually recovered. I’m sure you will too, Lady Staria.”
Even with his reassurance, she found no comfort.
Her mind flashed through everything she had been through. Perhaps because she had finally fallen ill after holding on so long, the tension she had been clinging to for survival suddenly snapped. She sat there blankly, unable to do anything.
And then a cold voice cut through the air:
“Not exactly in a position to go on a hunger strike, are you?”
Staria looked toward the head of the table. There he was—him, watching her with clear displeasure. Jerked back to reality, she quickly grabbed a turkey leg and shoved it into her mouth. She tasted nothing, chewing mechanically just to swallow.
I can’t get thrown out.
She remembered overhearing the maids: some races considered humans a delicacy. If she returned to the hut, she might be on the dinner table instead of the turkey.
Though she was weak, her survival instincts still functioned. She forced herself to eat, bite after bite.
“She’s got an appetite, doesn’t she.”
Cough!
She choked violently, as though her guts had twisted.
Scolded if she didn’t eat, scolded if she did—what exactly was she supposed to do?
Suddenly, she longed for the simple, warm meals of home.
Her mother, cooking different ways to suit her picky taste…
Anton, who secretly ate the things she refused…
The memory stung. Pressed-down grief finally burst through. Once the dam broke, there was no stopping the tears.
Every breath she exhaled carried a sob. She bit her lip to hold it back, but her tear glands overflowed anyway.
Plop.
A teardrop rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away hastily—but she had already been caught.
“Crying again?”
Staria flinched and shook her head furiously.
“Then is that snot running down your face?”
“Uhhh!”
No, you’re mistaken—it’s sweat!
“I can’t stand crybabies.”
Even though she knew nothing good would come of displeasing him, she couldn’t stop crying.
She looked around with teary eyes. Taylor looked pained and concerned, but he dared not defend her.
There was no one on her side here. It was like being abandoned alone in a vast desert.
Stop, you have to stop.
She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and forced the corners of her mouth upward. See? I’m not a crybaby.
“One more tear, and you’re banished. Understand?”
“Uhuhh.”
She nodded so hard it nearly broke her neck—and then smiled.
Like a fool.
Perhaps because she swore not to cry anymore, Staria wasn’t cast out of the fortress.
Though the condition was “only for now.”
Even without speech, she managed fine enough. After all, hardly anyone spoke to her anyway. The only one who did was the steward Taylor, and he was so busy that she rarely saw him.
Being treated like a ghost stung, but at least she had food and a bed. That was more than nothing.
And surprisingly, there were perks. Since nobody paid her attention, she had freedom to roam. Sneaking around the fortress, she gradually discovered things:
First: Meeting him was rarer than spotting a shooting star. He mostly stayed in caves, only spending limited time in the fortress. Apparently, he might return to the caves soon. For Staria, who dreaded his presence more than anything, this was very welcome news.
Second: The maids, called by numbers like One, Two, and Three, were all prodigies. Maid One could sew over fifty stitches a second. Maid Two treated poison like seasoning. Maid Three could hit her target while upside down with a blindfold on. Maid Four could predict weather just by looking at the sky. The youngest… well, she was just cheerful.
Third: Everyone in the fortress, Taylor included, feared yet revered him. The stories of his feats were awe-inspiring.
“One roar from the Lord, and tens of thousands fell like dominoes.”
“Nonsense, his hind-leg punch is stronger—it can split the earth in two.”
“Tch, if you didn’t see him smash the mutant hordes with his foreleg, don’t even talk.”
It wasn’t exaggeration or bluster. Staria herself had caught a glimpse of his overwhelming power.
In other words, the fortress under his protection was no different from an impregnable stronghold.
And so, once again, Staria reaffirmed her resolve:
Disgusting, humiliating—whatever it takes, I must cling to this place. Mother will surely come for me.
