It was past noon the following day when I woke up.
My whole body felt as heavy as lead. Beyond mere hunger, my stomach ached as though it were cramping.
“…I need to put something in my stomach.”
I washed my face, tied my disheveled hair into a simple knot, and went downstairs.
The lunch rush had long passed, and there was no one in the dining hall. I could hear the innkeeper’s wife cleaning fish in the back of the kitchen.
“Um, ma’am…”
“Oh, you’re up. You look terrible, you know. You went to bed like you collapsed without eating dinner last night either. If leftovers are fine, I’ll warm some up for you now.”
“Thank you. Would it be alright if I waited on the bench outside? I’d like some fresh air.”
“That’s fine. I’ll call you when it’s ready, so don’t wander off too far.”
I headed to the bench right in front of the inn.
As I stepped down from the entrance, my footing began to feel unsteady.
The harbor square was overflowing with midday energy. Men calling out boisterously as they sold freshly caught fish, street vendors lining up baskets full of vegetables.
A raw, vivid heat of life that didn’t exist in the noble district of the royal capital.
The moment I tried to fill my lungs with the cold sea breeze, a violent dizziness turned my vision pitch black.
‘Ah… this is bad.’
I tried to put my hand against the wall, but my fingers only grasped empty air.
The strength drained from my knees, and the stone pavement rushed up toward me rapidly—
Grab.
My right arm was seized and lifted with powerful force.
Just before I crashed into the ground, an arm as hard as iron, through thick leather gloves, caught and held my body.
“Hey. Are you alright?”
A low voice, hoarse like a rumbling of the earth.
When I looked up, a shadow had fallen over me.
He was a tall man. Over a well-tailored black knight’s uniform, he wore a sturdy cloak faded by the sea wind.
His black hair was cut short, and there was a shallow old scar on his cheek. Above all, his piercing golden eyes, sharp as an arrow, looked down at me with an extremely severe light in them.
At his overwhelming sense of intimidation, I instinctively flinched and shrank back.
I’m going to be scolded, I thought.
“You’re in the way.” “You’re sloppy.” “Don’t do something so unseemly.” — Words that my father and Cedric had continued to say to me back home flashed through my mind.
“I—I’m very sorry…! I’ll move out of the way right away…!”
I desperately strung together words of apology and pulled back, trying to escape the man’s arm.
But the man’s thick fingers did not let go of my arm. If anything, he stared intently, almost pitifully, at my wrist where the shape of my bones showed through.
The man sat me down on the bench, and after confirming my back was resting against the wall, he released his hand.
Then he strode with large steps toward the street stall right next door.
“Old man. Give me that, and that too.”
“Yes sir, my lord! Right away!”
My lord?
While I was still confused, the man came back.
In one hand, he held a steaming grilled fish sandwich. The old man from the stall followed behind, carrying a tray with a bowl of clam soup and a spoon.
“Can you hold this?”
When I nodded, the man placed the tray on my lap and set the warm wrapped sandwich down beside the soup.
“Eat.”
“Eh…?”
“You were about to collapse from hunger, weren’t you. Start with one bite.”
His tone was commanding, but there was no anger or contempt in it. Only a purely blended tone of exasperation and concern.
“I—I couldn’t possibly! I haven’t even paid, and for someone like me, a complete stranger, to receive charity from a lord…!”
“Don’t refuse. It’ll get cold.”
“But…!”
“I already paid for it. You can thank me after you’ve eaten.”
The man furrowed his brow deeply and steadied the tray that had begun to slip from my lap.
Refusing any further felt too rude, so I took the warm wrapped sandwich in my hands.
The certain warmth conveyed to my palms. The fragrant smell of grilled fish and the steam of the soup with its scent of the sea shook my reason, which had already reached its limit.
“…Why, to someone like me?”
Before I knew it, my true feelings had spilled out from my throat without meaning to.
There had been no one who bothered with “someone like me.” Even in the middle of a meal, if my father called for me, I would rise from my seat. When I returned, my plate would have been cleared away, and it was not uncommon for me to make do with cold soup left over in the kitchen for the night.
“You should give it to a child who’s even hungrier than me, or… to someone who’s sick. I can bear it.”
The moment I spoke those ingrained, cursed words—
The man’s golden eyes wavered faintly.
The man sat himself down heavily beside me.
“I’m not asking about anyone else’s stomach. I bought this because I wanted to feed you, who looked about to collapse right in front of me, right now.”
“…!”
“Just eat. You get to eat first.”
‘You, first.’
I gripped the spoon and drank a mouthful of the soup. The savory taste of the clams sank down into my stomach, which had been stinging with pain.
Just as I moved the spoon for another mouthful, the innkeeper’s wife poked her head out from the inn.
“Oh my, did the lord feed you first? That’s good. You’ve barely eaten anything since yesterday, haven’t you.”
I tried to answer, but no proper voice came out.
The man beside me asked nothing, and simply kept supporting the edge of the tray until the strength left my hands holding it.