CHAPTER 9:
My Face Is Not Food
“Eat.”
Dietrich brought food the morning after he had thrown his uniform to Celia.
Celia stared at the food he carried.
The steaming soup was nothing like the thin gruel she had seen the day before.
Floating visibly in the soup were fresh vegetables and chunks of meat—enough to whet anyone’s appetite. On top of that, Dietrich placed a piece of freshly baked, crispy bread on the tray.
Celia looked back and forth between Dietrich and the food with suspicious eyes.
“Are you trying to fatten me up before eating me?”
“……”
Dietrich ignored her comment and stepped into the cell. He set the tray down in front of her and leaned casually against the wall.
“I’ll watch until you eat.”
“Hey, I’m curious about one thing.”
Dietrich’s eyes narrowed at her question. He assumed she was about to ask him again about his supernatural ability.
“You didn’t bring a spoon or anything? Am I supposed to eat this with my hands?”
Celia widened her eyes and mimed scooping soup with her hand. Dietrich was dumbfounded.
In his life, he had never met a woman this shameless.
“Do you even realize you’re a prisoner? Quit whining and just gulp it down.”
“But you said you’d keep me alive, didn’t you? Doesn’t that mean you’re going to release me from this cell?”
Dietrich felt a sharp throb in his forehead and pushed away from the wall. He kneeled on one knee to match her eye level.
Celia, still wearing his oversized uniform, stared at him. If one looked closely, the usually impassive crease between Dietrich’s brows had slightly deepened.
Even so, there wasn’t a shred of emotion in his crimson eyes as he looked at her.
That made Celia all the more intrigued. He was the first man who didn’t react to her at all.
Priests, beasts in the guise of family, nobles—any man who had ever laid eyes on her had been consumed by lust and desire, regardless of age.
Just like the guard from yesterday. Just like the Emperor she had killed.
Celia studied Dietrich’s face carefully—his well-shaped eyebrows, sharp crimson eyes, defined nose, and pale pink lips that seemed unfamiliar with smiling.
Once, she had viewed him—“the Emperor’s Mad Dog”—with prejudice.
But the man before her now looked completely different from what she’d heard or assumed.
“My face is not food.”
Dietrich muttered dryly and began tearing the bread into bite-sized pieces. He held one to her mouth.
“Eat.”
“……”
Celia just stared at him, not opening her mouth. Dietrich’s patience was nearing its limit.
“Are you expecting me to feed you mouth-to-mouth?”
He said mockingly. Celia, who had been quiet, suddenly let out a soft laugh. Her fresh green eyes, like a summer forest, curved into crescent moons.
Celia was clearly enjoying herself. In contrast, Dietrich’s face turned cold and expressionless.
“If I said I did want that… would you actually do it?”
Dietrich nearly hurled the bread to the floor but stopped himself. Suppressing his rising irritation, he dipped the bread into the soup instead.
“So much for the ‘Angel of Brillion’—what a lie. Even a demon would have more shame than you.”
“Didn’t you know? That nickname was made up by a bunch of fools.”
Dietrich was stunned into silence by how casually she dismissed the title. As she took a bite of the soaked bread, savoring the rich soup, he stared at her in silence.
“Want some too?”
Celia held out the bitten bread toward Dietrich. He slowly stood up, clearly fed up with her antics.
The noble, upright aura she had in their first meeting was long gone. Now, nibbling and savoring her food like a rabbit, she looked completely harmless.
Of course, Dietrich knew well enough that no meek rabbit could have assassinated the Emperor—or even thought of doing so.
“…Eat as much as you want.”
“Aren’t you going to take your uniform back? It’s yours.”
Celia asked, wide-eyed, crumbs clinging to the corner of her mouth. Dietrich found her utterly irritating.
“It’s bothering me.”
“Huh? What is?”
Celia tilted her head, confused. Her silver hair tumbled over his dark uniform as she moved.
Dietrich pointed to the corner of his own mouth.
“…Bread crumbs.”
At his words, Celia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Watching her haphazardly wipe the wrong side—her clean side—Dietrich grew visibly frustrated.
“Not there. The other side.”
“There! All clean now, right?”
She beamed proudly, crumbs still stuck to her lips. Dietrich’s eyes grew cold and still.
“…Do you truly not understand what shame is?”
He muttered to himself. Was this clumsy behavior of hers calculated?
Even while harboring such doubts, Dietrich unconsciously reached out and wiped the crumbs from her lips himself.
The scent of Dietrich filled Celia’s nose—just like the one from his uniform. It was a mix of rose soap and the earthy aroma of a forest—an intoxicating scent she wanted to keep inhaling.
Dietrich looked into Celia’s eyes, which hadn’t left him once, and finally spoke.
“Do you have something to say?”
“Just curious—what kind of cologne do you use?”
Dietrich stayed silent, then slowly stepped away. He stared at her carefully, puzzled by her harmless expression.
“If you don’t want to answer, then don’t.”
As she spoke nonchalantly, Dietrich stepped out of the cell and muttered under his breath:
“Eat well while you can. I don’t know when your next meal will come. Things are chaotic outside… because of your little stunt killing the Emperor.”
He locked the cell with a key and turned to leave. Celia called after him.
“What do you mean it’s chaotic? What’s going on outside?”
“……”
Dietrich had no intention of telling her. To him, Celia was a piece to be discarded the moment she lost her value.
As long as he could blind her, deafen her, and use her as he wished, he could tolerate a bit of mockery.
“If she’s not even worth keeping alive… I’ll just dispose of her.”
With lips pressed tightly, Dietrich began walking away. But Celia called out once more.
“Wait! What do you want me to do with this uniform? Are you taking it back?”
Dietrich tilted his head slightly, looking back at the uniform she wore. Several medals dangled from it—awards the late Emperor had given him.
They were the price of swallowing his pride, and just looking at them made him nauseous. The flickering torchlight made them gleam even more.
“…Do whatever you want with it.”
“What about the medals? They’re heavy.”
“Up to you. It’s your uniform now.”
With those parting words, Dietrich left without turning back.
The Emperor’s funeral was held with extravagant grandeur, a sharp contrast to his lackluster reign. Not a single person truly mourned his death.
With the funeral over, all eyes turned to Jeremy—the heir apparent.
Because the late Emperor had been so incompetent, no one objected to Jeremy ascending the throne.
Initially, there had been opposition. Jeremy, though clever, had a tendency to act impulsively. But all those who opposed him had been executed by his mother, Empress Erpia.
Now, after the funeral, the most pressing matter was Jeremy’s coronation. However, with so many unresolved issues, it was clear his ascent would be delayed.
The biggest issue? Celia—the woman who assassinated the Emperor—was still alive and locked in prison. Opinions about her fate were split among the nobles.
“The people are clamoring for the ‘Angel of Brillion’ to be released. It’s not just commoners—sons of high-ranking officials and even renowned priests are all insisting she’s innocent.”
“But she did kill the Emperor! Why are they making such a fuss to save one woman?”
Marquis Taylo, head of the council of nobles, looked genuinely baffled as he scowled and shook his head.
“Marquis, did you know? Every man stirring up unrest right now has, at some point, tried to court the Angel of Brillion.”
“!”
At that, more wrinkles seemed to form around the already-creased eyes of Marquis Taylo.
“Just how beautiful must this woman be to drive men to such madness?”
“I’ve never seen her myself. For now, Sir Dietrich has total control over the prison…”
Marquis Taylo slammed the table with a loud bang.
“That man! He dares try to control the palace!”
Just then, the meeting room doors burst open.
“Who dares disturb this sacred council—!”
Taylo couldn’t finish his sentence. His face turned pale.
All eyes turned to the sudden intruder.
“…Who’s trying to control what now?”
