ADFPL 24

ADFPL

Chapter 24

Whitney swallowed at the brutal order.

“Do it discreetly. Don’t let it be discovered. But make the warning unmistakable. You understand what I mean.”

It meant making sure everyone knew why they died.

Whitney didn’t welcome Cleor’s command.

But he had no right to disobey.

“I’ll select those quick with their hands and feet. As for monster subjugation—”

Surely he wasn’t expected to handle that as well after returning.

“I’ll assign it to Demor.”

“…Understood.”

Just how many times was he traveling back and forth to the central region this winter alone? At this point, maybe he should buy a house there.

Whitney let his thoughts drift uselessly.

As dinner time approached, the duke’s kitchen grew busy.

The chef, Milpayo, had been pouring his heart and soul into creating and cooking new recipes for Isabella.

The people of House Noverdic were the sort who could chew through iron if necessary, so it wouldn’t have mattered even if Milpayo weren’t there—but Isabella was different.

To Milpayo, she possessed an exceptionally refined palate.

Even when he used the same recipe but changed only the stock, she noticed immediately.

Only a chef knows how blissful it is to have someone who truly understands the taste of one’s cooking.

Though Isabella had yet to offer words of gratitude, the mere fact that she cleaned her plate each time made Milpayo feel like he was floating on air.

“Today’s dish is a soup made from finely pureed young calf’s liver.”

At some point, Milpayo had begun personally serving the dishes instead of leaving it to others.

Isabella lifted her spoon.

Everyone watched as she scooped up a spoonful of the smooth soup and brought it to her lips.

She held the soup in her mouth for a long moment, savoring the flavor.

The soup slid down without the need to chew—rich without being overwhelming.

“…Mm. It’s good.”

At that single comment, Milpayo’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

Cleor, Clara, Victor, and Angela all let out relieved breaths.

She’ll finish the entire bowl today.
Milpayo deserves a reward.
Let’s see how he does from here on out.

They exchanged glances, smiling with satisfaction.

The clattering sounds gradually faded, and the plates were nearly empty.

Unlike the central region, where individual plates were served, in the north the main dishes were placed at the center, and everyone took as much as they wanted.

Only Isabella received a personal plate with the main dish prepared in easy-to-eat portions.

Originally, meals at House Noverdic were eaten very quickly.

They preferred to eat fast and clear the table fast.

To them, food was less a pleasure and more a matter of survival.

Isabella was the same.

The difference was that she ate very slowly in order to survive.

When Isabella set down her spoon, Cleor and Clara followed, and finally Victor and Angela placed down their forks and knives.

They had finished long ago and were only pretending to eat so Isabella could dine comfortably.

“I’m full. The turkey today was excellent.”

At Victor’s words, the plates were promptly cleared and dessert was brought out.

The warm tea served afterward was a herbal blend to aid digestion.

It also washed away the sweetness of the chocolate, leaving the mouth refreshed.

Originally, after-dinner tea at the duke’s residence was taken individually, but that had changed since Isabella arrived.

The family now enjoyed dessert together, chatting lightly.

“There’s something I need to talk about today.”

Cleor spoke.

“Is it important?”

Angela asked.

“Yes, Mother.”

He glanced sideways at Isabella.

She seemed to be in fairly good condition today.

She had walked to the dining hall herself and finished the food she was given.

To Cleor, it still looked like the amount a bird would eat—but compared to when even that had been difficult for her, it was remarkable progress.

“Isabella, would you be able to sit with us a bit longer?”

Isabella dabbed her mouth with a cloth and replied softly, “Yes.”

Watching her carefully, Cleor continued.

“It’s about my marriage to Isabella.”

Isabella’s eyes widened.

She should have realized when he said it was important.

They hadn’t yet come to an agreement regarding the wedding.

“Of course. I was just about to bring it up myself. Isabella, have you thought about what you’d like for the wedding?”

Isabella’s gaze lingered on Cleor’s profile.

Had he forgotten that she’d asked to postpone the marriage by a year?

She slowly exhaled.

If he’d forgotten, she could simply say it again.

“There is only one thing I ask for regarding the marriage.”

Six pairs of expectant eyes turned toward her.

“I want to postpone the wedding by one year.”

“That’s absolutely unacceptable!”

Victor shouted.

Startled by the sudden loud voice, Isabella flinched. Cleor immediately covered her hand on her lap with his large one.

“Lower your voice, dear. Isabella, I agree with His Grace. We cannot delay the marriage. Is there a reason?”

Of course there was.

But could she say it?

House Noverdic knew she was terminally ill.

But they didn’t know when she would die.

If they realized she might die before the wedding, would they cast her out again?

The thought frightened her. But Isabella could no longer deceive them—or burden them further.

The kindness and care she’d received since arriving here were more than she’d ever known in her life.

She slowly opened her mouth.

“I… will die someday.”

Beneath Cleor’s hand, Isabella clenched her fist tightly.

Silence filled the room.

The stillness was so complete that they could hear one another breathing—until Cleor broke it.

“Everyone dies. If you’re worried because of your illness, don’t be. I told you I’d cure it.”

“This isn’t something that can be easily cured.”

“No. I can cure it. You must not know me very well, Isabella.”

Cleor turned fully to meet her gaze.

“I will never let you die. I promise you—on everything I have.”

Victor, Angela, and Clara nodded in agreement.

Isabella knew she couldn’t persuade them.

No matter what she said, she wouldn’t be able to change the minds of Cleor or the people of House Noverdic.

Ah…

A small sound escaped her lips.

She couldn’t speak anymore.

The warmth of their goodwill and kindness was overwhelming—her chest felt too full to bear.

After carrying Isabella back to her bedroom, Cleor headed to Victor’s study.

“How is Isabella?”

“Betty and Clara are with her.”

If only Clara had been there, he would’ve worried—but with Betty as well, it was reassuring.

Though excitable, Betty was an exceptionally capable maid.

Her loyalty to her mistress was unmatched.

She was the kind of person who would stay by her lady’s side to the very end, no matter what happened.

There was a reason for that loyalty.

After losing her parents to bandits and nearly being sold into slavery, she’d been saved by House Noverdic.

“Did you know?”

Victor asked.

Cleor knew exactly what he meant—the words Isabella had spoken at dinner.

“Yes. I knew.”

“You useless fool! You knew and still couldn’t change Isabella’s heart—what have you been doing?!”

Victor exploded.

Cleor bowed his head.

He thought he’d been trying, but perhaps it wasn’t enough.

Even so, he didn’t feel resentful, nor did he want to give up on her.

He simply needed to try harder.

He was prepared to knock on the tightly shut door of Isabella’s heart hundreds, thousands of times.

If only he could learn why she’d closed herself off…

Perhaps the Helsingten Count’s family was the problem after all.

“Darling, we can’t leave everything to Cleor. We need to step in too.”

Angela said, placing her hand on Victor’s knee.

“I’m always impressed by my wife’s wisdom.”

Cleor shook his head at his parents’ saccharine display.

“Is that why you called me? Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Sit.”

Victor had another reason for summoning him.

“An invitation arrived from the capital.”

He handed Cleor a card sealed with the emperor’s insignia.

Cleor’s brow furrowed as he read.

“The entire family? And at this time?”

In winter, northerners didn’t step a foot outside the north—like bears hibernating.

If the roads were cut off, it would be disastrous.

“His Majesty wishes us to come now and stay through spring.”

“That’s absurd! If we leave, who will protect the northern territory? We’ve driven many monsters up the mountains to minimize damage during the third subjugation, but it’s still not enough!”

Cleor retorted angrily.

“I know that, but—”

“Father, think about it. Even if the dragon is asleep, we don’t know when it might awaken. On top of that, monster attacks started early this year, before the people were properly prepared. And you want us to go to the capital now?”

Cleor was resolute.

The deeper winter grew, the more frequent the attacks by starving monsters on villages.

Well-trained knights could hold them off, but the difference between having the lord present and absent was unmistakable.

“…Are you going?”

When Victor and Angela remained silent with grave expressions, Cleor pressed them.

“This time, we must follow His Majesty’s wishes. We also need to receive approval for your marriage to Isabella.”

Noble marriages required imperial sanction.

For minor houses, written approval was enough—but not for House Noverdic and House Helsingten.

Both were deeply tied to the imperial family.

A formal audience was essential.

“Father! Then what about Isabella? You want to force someone so frail into a long journey?”

Cleor raised his voice.