Chapter 4
“I know. It’s a table,” Ivnia replied calmly.
The man didn’t seem to acknowledge her words. He simply passed by her and sat in a nearby chair.
His face was unchanged from before—too small a mouth to swallow a human whole.
Since he hadn’t appeared in a monstrous form, it seemed he really didn’t intend to eat her.
With no other choice, Ivnia rose and turned toward him.
“Are you really not going to eat me?” she asked.
“I don’t want to. You’re too grubby,” he said.
Ivnia quietly lowered her head to inspect her appearance.
Her dress, muddied from wandering through the forest, confirmed what she suspected—he probably wouldn’t want to eat someone who looked like this.
After a brief pause, she offered a solution.
“You could just wash me.”
“Do you want to be clean in a second with your mouth shut, or keep prattling around in dirty clothes?”
Ivnia chose the former. Her filth-covered body was uncomfortable, yes—but she also sensed he wanted her to be quiet.
She closed her mouth and went to sit opposite him. The man let out a sigh and muttered some incomprehensible words.
A small wind seemed to stir around her. Slowly, her soiled clothes returned to their original state.
Her sweaty, grimy skin became dry and fresh again.
Incredible…
Ivnia touched the hem of her cleaned dress, marveling inwardly.
Until now, she had never encountered true magic—or even a fully functional magical tool. She’d heard that in big cities, ancient relics were still put to good use, but in the Hessen region, everything she came across was trivial at best.
It made sense. In her age, the blessed ones had nearly gone extinct.
Ever since the man sitting before her had defeated the evils that threatened the world, it seemed the number of true blessed individuals had dwindled, as if the balance demanded it.
By Ivnia’s generation, magic was at most considered a companion of minstrels or con artists.
Those with real power lived hidden away in dangerous, remote areas.
Like the man before her.
Yes. He possessed true power—enough to send her to another place with a single gesture.
Whatever had happened in the past, as long as he didn’t want a bride now, he had countless ways to dispose of an unwelcome guest.
He could have instantly ended her life—or moved her far away, beyond his notice entirely.
Yet he only watched her with eyes full of thought, as if trying to choose the right action instead of the easy one.
Ivnia asked in a quiet voice.
“May I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Have you ever transformed into a monster and eaten someone?”
“No.”
“Then why are there rumors?”
“I haven’t eaten anyone, but I have killed many. All folklore works like that—one truth, with ninety-nine lies added.”
Speaking casually, he only moved his eyes to glance toward the door that led to the kitchen.
“You’re curious about everything, I get it—but eat first. Don’t choke,” he said.
Following his gaze, Ivnia saw Guillermo rolling a trolley laden with food.
His movements were elegant, as one would expect from a noble—but his table etiquette was abysmal.
Appetizers, main dishes, desserts, tea, and wine were all mixed together in a jumble. Guillermo beamed proudly.
“Well, enjoy your meal.”
Could this really be the dining custom of the Ritberg region?
Ivnia hesitated, unsure how to approach the food. That was when Agram, seeming to have been waiting, snapped at her.
“Stop dawdling. Eat! You look so starved a beggar would take you for my friend!”
Her supposed guide to this bizarre setup had already returned to the kitchen, leaving her with no explanation.
Reluctantly, Ivnia picked up a spoon. She knew she wouldn’t truly enjoy the meal under these circumstances.
Sure enough, her tongue detected no flavor at all.
She managed a few spoonfuls of soup before lowering the spoon, and Agram raised an eyebrow as if scolding her.
“I’m full,” she murmured.
“Don’t leave anything behind. You’ll grow taller if you eat.”
Though he looked no older than thirty, Agram’s eyes carried a worldly weight that made him seem older.
Considering he was over four hundred years old, perhaps his lecturing tone was appropriate for his age.
“This much is fine for me,” she said.
“Ha! You girls always worry about losing weight? Just eat and play—it’s the best.”
Hearing this from the very man she had feared would devour her her whole life struck her as strangely absurd.
Ivnia fiddled with her spoon and whispered.
“I was afraid you’d eat me.”
“What?”
“I thought if there wasn’t enough food, Lord Ram might not eat me.”
No one willingly welcomes being devoured by a monster.
Ivnia wanted to survive more than anyone, and she would do whatever it took to stay alive.
Even obsessively controlling her body to the point of losing all appetite had been just one of the countless hardships she had endured.
She had even denied herself the pleasure of eating—but now, she regretted it.
After all, she no longer had any compelling reason to cling to life so desperately…
“Lord Ram isn’t eating?”
Ivnia looked at the towering pile of food before her and asked.
He parted his lips slightly, then replied after a beat.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Ah… so you don’t eat human food.”
She mumbled to herself, oddly satisfied with this conclusion.
The reason no cutlery was set for him became clear—this simply wasn’t his food.
As Ivnia silently nodded, Agram suddenly raised his voice.
“Guillermo! Bring mine too!”
“Huh?”
Guillermo peeked back in from the doorway. For some reason, his tone was insolent.
“Did I hear that correctly? You’re eating?”
“Yes.”
“Why waste food on someone who doesn’t even need it? Do you know how hard I had to work to prepare this?”
“Stop talking twice. Just do as I say.”
Chastised, Guillermo finally returned to the kitchen.
A bizarre plate, piled high with what looked like scraps, soon appeared in front of Agram.
The sight might have killed anyone’s appetite, but he didn’t complain. He devoured everything on his plate without a word.
Intimidated by his vigor, Ivnia reluctantly picked up her spoon again.
The meal ended only after Ivnia had forced far more into her stomach than usual.
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Agram said,
“Now that we’ve eaten, let’s talk.”
Even after opening the subject, he hesitated to continue.
After staring at Ivnia for a long moment, he sighed, pulled out a cigarette, and began smoking with restless agitation, shaking his leg as if the situation were unbearably annoying.
At first, Ivnia had quietly waited for the conversation to begin. But by the third cigarette, she could no longer remain passive.
“Smoking like that will ruin your health,” she said gently.
“Oh, I’m immortal. Doesn’t matter at all. Isn’t that awesome?”
“…Where did you even learn to speak like that?”
“Guillermo said it’s the latest trend.”
Agram glanced indifferently toward the kitchen.
Ivnia recalled Guillermo’s retro attire—the outdated fashion, the unforgettable comment about living in the countryside for 200 years.
Totally old-fashioned.
Of course, she didn’t voice her thoughts. She suspected that his attempt at modern slang was for her benefit.
As she nodded in acknowledgment, a tickle spread across her throat—and she suddenly let out a loud cough.
“Cough!”
Agram fixed her with a steady gaze—and without hesitation, extinguished the cigarette in the bowl Guillermo had placed before her.
