CHAPTER 19
“Sister Rebecca, Sister Agnes is still nowhere to be seen. She should be eating by now.”
When the High Priestess, seated at the center of the long dining table, spoke up, Rebecca set down her fork.
Her gaze subtly drifted toward Killian, who was seated beside the High Priestess.
“I suppose she hasn’t finished her tasks yet.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It probably wasn’t a difficult task, but since she’s never done that kind of work before, it must be taking her longer.”
“…”
As expected, Killian continued his meal without the slightest reaction or expression.
Just as I thought.
Feeling satisfied, Rebecca picked up her fork again, a small smile playing on her lips.
It was the same old bread and potatoes, yet somehow it tasted better today.
“Well, considering how delicately she was raised, it was probably a stretch for her to even volunteer.”
“Still, it’s a pity. I was hoping I’d at least see her face at dinner. Maybe I should’ve gone to help her.”
“Vice-Captain Renald, Lady Ade—no, Sister Agnes—is carrying out the proper duties of a volunteer.”
But Rebecca didn’t care much for Renald’s blatantly disappointed tone as he sat across from her.
Unconsciously, her voice turned a little sharp, and she covered her mouth with a napkin as she cleared her throat.
“Besides, she might be skipping dinner on purpose. I doubt she’d even be grateful for help.”
“On purpose?”
“Isn’t she someone who used to dine on lavish meals every day? I bet her maid even fed her directly. There’s no way this food suits her taste.”
Rebecca nodded toward the modest dinner on her tray.
Though meat appeared occasionally, the meals at the Grand Temple were far from extravagant.
Tonight’s offering was the usual: a few potatoes, bread, milk, and some jam.
“I heard that during parties at House Sergio, they make fountains out of champagne and wine.”
“Really? That extravagant?”
“That’s not even the half of it. Rumor has it they stack cakes taller than a person and uproot entire fruit trees just to decorate the banquet halls.”
As one of the priests reacted with surprise, Rebecca’s expression grew smug.
Killian continued eating, as though deaf and blind to it all, but Rebecca wanted others to know Adele’s true identity.
They needed to realize they were being deceived—bewitched by her glamorous appearance.
“Can someone raised in such opulence truly volunteer? We allowed it because she insisted, but I doubt she’s even still here.”
“Where exactly is she, then…?”
“Oh, I placed her where she would be most appropriate and best suited. Ah—Commander, you’re already finished?”
Killian had stood up.
Though there was still bread left on his tray, it seemed he had lost his appetite.
Rebecca offered a formal greeting, expecting nothing from a man not easily swayed. Then she smoothly returned to her conversation.
“Anyway, it must’ve been quite a luxurious upbringing.”
“Just how luxurious was it?”
“How could I possibly describe it in words? The rumors about House Sergio’s extravagance are as numerous as these piles of potatoes.”
She gestured toward someone carrying an overflowing tray of potatoes.
How is there still so much left after everyone’s eaten?
She scooted her chair in slightly so it wouldn’t block anyone passing by.
“Really, someone raised like that wouldn’t find these meals satisfying. But we can’t exactly bring out the Archbishop’s meat rations just to suit a volunteer’s taste. …No, I’m fine. Please offer it to someone else.”
“…I haven’t been served yet, Sister.”
“…”
“And sorry, but this is my dinner.”
Rebecca, thinking someone was trying to share leftovers with her as usual, waved them off—only to freeze.
Poking her head out from behind a mountain of potatoes, Adele gave a bright-eyed smile and gestured to the seat beside her.
“By the way, is this seat taken?”
Adele peeled the soft potato skin away.
The pale yellow flesh beneath looked so fluffy it made her mouth water.
Just as she brought it to her lips, she noticed a man standing like a statue in front of her.
“Oh right, Commander. Weren’t you on your way out?”
“No.”
Killian reflexively shook his head. As if that wasn’t enough, he added something unprompted:
“…I haven’t finished yet.”
“Ah, I see. Then you should go ahead and eat.”
As he sat back down with a complicated expression, Adele held back a chuckle.
Someone might think I came here to devour all the knights.
She dramatically took a big bite of the potato. The soft sweetness spread deliciously across her tongue.
Ah… this is it.
It was the first meal after a long bout of hard labor—she could’ve chewed stones and still found them tasty.
Truthfully, she wanted to grab one for each hand and eat them skin and all, but she had to stay mindful of the many eyes watching her now.
While savoring the melt-in-your-mouth potato, she quietly nodded toward Renald and Michael.
“Mm, I guess because these are high-altitude potatoes, the size and taste are just perfect.”
“R-Really?”
“Yes. The sweetness is high and the texture is excellent. I’d say these are top quality.”
…Where?
Potatoes are potatoes. Just eat to fill your stomach.
Adele grabbed another without hesitation.
What do they even want from me?
Her arms still trembled from the work. Talking about culinary finesse right now was absurd.
Washing dishes for hundreds of people might sound simple, but her body wasn’t used to such grueling physical labor.
If not for the experience she gained in her past life, she might’ve collapsed.
That was during a cold winter, right… yeah, around Christmas.
“More dishes are coming in!”
“Move the rinsed ones over there!”
“Is there no hot water?!”
“It’s bad enough we’re doing dishes in the yard—now we have to use cold water too!”
A “holiday charity event” with a fancy name but grueling labor for the workers.
Cries of protest rang out, but the supervisor never lifted a finger.
“And to think they weren’t even going to feed us.”
That part had upset Adele the most.
At least temples and churches always gave food in return.
She was doing this to survive—no way a grand temple of the Empire should act this way.
It was obvious they were trying to prevent her from crossing paths with Killian, but she wouldn’t play along.
Who benefits from that?
She wasn’t out for revenge on Sister Rebecca.
She was just very hungry.
After robotically sorting, washing, and stacking dishes, she had rushed in to scoop up what was left.
Even a single piece of bread would’ve helped, but had she been any later, she wouldn’t have seen one.
“Haha, hearing it from Sister Agnes makes these everyday potatoes feel new and special.”
“Oh, not at all. If I could eat something like this daily, I’d consider it a blessing from Enes.”
“Wait… Are you saying you ate food like this at House Sergio?”
Why is she picking a fight with someone who’s eating?
Adele was mid-bite when she met Sister Rebecca’s sharp gaze.
Ever since Adele sat down at the table, Rebecca hadn’t taken a single bite—just stared.
“Sister Rebecca.”
“You don’t need to force yourself. Everyone here already knows about your noble family. There’s no need to put on a show. We understand your feelings, so you don’t have to pretend to enjoy food that clearly doesn’t suit your taste.”
“Pretending?”
Adele looked at her with genuine curiosity.
So she thinks I’m faking being a commoner?
“If anything, Sister, it seems you underestimate how precious potatoes are. From selecting seed potatoes to keeping them at the right temperature, to harvesting around day ninety—none of it’s easy.”
She’d be grateful to be mistaken for a commoner.
She remembered her dirt-poor days, when buying potatoes wasn’t even an option—she had to grow them herself.
She wasn’t starving, but some days she wished she could just eat potatoes instead.
Rice was always the same, but potatoes? You could roast, steam, fry them—so many options.
“So that’s why you love them so much, Lady Adele?”
“Do you know how many dishes use potatoes? Soups, mashed alongside steak, salads, even bread.”
It had been a while since she ate just potatoes.
Seeing Rebecca choking slightly, Adele offered her wine glass with a bright smile.
If it were me, I might’ve hit someone with this, but I trust Sister Rebecca won’t.
There’s nothing quite as delightful as reminiscing about your hard times—after you’ve made it.
“You speak like someone who’s experienced it all. House Sergio truly is remarkable.”
“I’m a bit disappointed, honestly. You seem to have some serious misconceptions about my family. Was it fountains of champagne and wine, you said?”
“So you’re saying that was a lie? I heard it directly from someone who attended the party!”
“No, no. It wasn’t a fountain—it was a waterfall. My father even built a channel just to pour the wine.”
If you’re going to spread rumors, at least get them right.
Adele twirled her wine glass.
Through the glass, she caught Killian’s cold gaze—but the wine was at a perfect drinking temperature for her.
Rebecca looked so furious she nearly spat out her wine.
“So you’re saying all of that is something to brag about?”
“Of course. The flowing wine from that day helped determine the market ranking for that year’s wine harvest. This very wine was first unveiled at that autumn party two years ago. How do you like it?”
“That’s… ridiculous…”
“And the story about the fruit trees is true. We plant the imported trees in greenhouses, then distribute the produce more affordably across the southern region. You should acknowledge that too.”
Adele calmly took another bite of her potato while Rebecca’s cheeks twitched.
She looked like she might spit out her wine altogether.
“It seems Lady Adele is growing arrogant. You know what they say: It’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven.”
“Oh, no need to worry. I could easily build a golden needle bigger than this hall.”
“…”
“But I wouldn’t. That would go against the economy of the South—and more importantly, the will of the holy Enes.”
Please, may this humble servant be blessed.
Adele crossed herself as if in repentance and stood up from her seat.
Snort!
Trying to suppress his laughter, Renald glanced at Adele’s tray, avoiding Rebecca’s eyes.
“You’re done already? You didn’t even have bread.”
“I was too late. There wasn’t any left.”
“Oh, then please take mine—”
“Mine too!”
No sooner had she spoken than trays around the table lifted in unison.
Multiple hands reached out to offer bread, and the atmosphere turned somber again.
Adele, unsure which to take, smiled politely.
“Mm… no, it’s okay. I’ll just come earlier next time.”
“Still, if there’s anything we can help with—”
“Then please don’t leave leftovers.”
Because I’ll have to wash all of it.
She held up her clean tray for emphasis, then subtly glanced at Killian.
Unlike the others, he didn’t laugh, but there was a flicker of tension in his otherwise composed blue eyes.
…I’m not here to eat you alive.
He seemed to be wary she’d try to seduce the knights, but he was the real target.
Adele’s pink eyes narrowed ever so slightly—intoxicating as wine.
“Then I’ll be off.”
As soon as she gave a graceful farewell and walked away, Rebecca followed close behind.
Judging by her heavy breathing, she clearly intended to confront Adele—but no one at the table seemed concerned.
They didn’t know why exactly, but it somehow felt… unnecessary.
One priest, perhaps more perceptive than most, began praying for Sister Rebecca’s blood pressure, and the apprentice priests followed suit.
“What troubles you, Lord Killian?”
The High Priestess, who had quietly observed everything like a shadow, asked softly. Killian’s brow twitched.
Just one person had left the hall—yet the entire space felt oppressively still.
How could he even explain this feeling?
He had never hesitated with a sword in hand, but now he found himself at a loss for words.
“…It’s too… noisy.”
“Why? Isn’t it entertaining?”
“High Priestess.”
“To think this is all you can say, Your Highness—no, Killian. You’re still not being honest.”
Her eyes crinkled with amusement.
Killian looked at her as if to protest—but he was never one to act impulsively or emotionally.
“I merely speak as someone responsible for maintaining peace in the Grand Temple. If you’ve made this decision, I trust you had your reasons. Then I shall—”
“That bread… who is it for?”
Killian glanced down at the piece of bread in his hand, surprised to find it there.
Why am I holding this?
A trace of confusion appeared on his otherwise icy face.
“Could it be that… you too are like the other knights…?”
“Here.”
He placed the bread on the High Priestess’s tray almost defensively.
When she feigned surprise with a smile, Killian’s brow furrowed sternly.
“You need to eat more.”
“Now you say that?”
After all these years, he had never once offered even a glass of water.
Still, recalling all their shared years, she accepted the bread. Its warmth, incongruent with his frosty aura, lingered in her hands.
Killian’s usually unwavering voice carried an unfamiliar awkwardness.
“You need the nutrition… especially at your age.”
