In a secluded members-only restaurant, two people sat with troubled expressions, the three primal human desires—sleep, **, and appetite—still echoing in their ears.
“No way, Emilia, are you sure this is the place?”
Sig, dressed in a white dress shirt and tie, reached out and poked at the blackened, foul-smelling food on the plate in front of him with a pale yellow fork.
It looked suspiciously like snow.
His lips turned downward, and he shook his head slightly, his face full of reluctance.
He had no intention of becoming a “snow-eater” or “snow-stoner.”
Glancing sideways at the silver-haired girl, he sought an answer, unwilling to touch the food in any way until he got a reasonable explanation.
“It’s fine, it’s really delicious, I swear—ugh.”
Emilia, brimming with confidence, scooped up a spoonful of the food and ate it without hesitation.
She ate too quickly, and the taste hit her taste buds like a wave, causing her to gag.
She chewed a few times and swallowed.
The taste was as good as ever, though the price had gone up quite a bit.
“It’s really delicious, Sig, hurry up and try it!”
“…No way, I’m not eating snow.”
Sig’s internal alarm bells were ringing. He waved his hand in refusal, nothing more.
He suspected she was pulling the same trick from their school days—eating a sour orange, pretending it was delicious, and generously offering him half, only to reveal her true expression after he took a bite.
Childish tactics.
Old tricks like that were the least effective.
Amid a pleasant melody, he was clearly starving but still couldn’t bring himself to eat.
He just shook his head at the food.
His behavior even caught the attention of the restaurant owner, who didn’t recognize Emilia—not because they weren’t familiar, but because she was a famous figure in the empire, known to all.
No one in the empire could possibly not know her.
It was just that she was wrapped up too tightly—black trench coat, black hood—making it hard to tell she was a person, let alone a woman.
At night, she might even be mistaken for a thief.
“What’s wrong with this guest? It’s your first time here, isn’t it? It’s normal to feel uneasy. Our cooking methods are unique, but there’s absolutely no issue. It’s just a pity that with the empire’s rising prices, we can’t keep things affordable anymore. Even our customers have dwindled. If only Lady Emilia were still here, the empire wouldn’t be in this state.”
Hearing this, Sig seemed to recall past events.
He continued shaking his head meaningfully, no longer poking at the food with his fork but picking it up instead.
“Oh, is that so? Honestly, I don’t understand you empire folks. Boss, instead of thinking about saving yourselves, you’re waiting for someone else to come rescue you, to redeem you. That’s the mindset of the weak.”
“You’ve never considered relying on your own strength to change the empire or escape your predicament. You just sit there, quietly waiting to die. You might say it’s impossible, that you don’t have Lady Emilia’s abilities. But at the end of the day, she’s just an ordinary person. Strip away her saintess title, and she’s no different from you. Why could she do it?”
…
“Guest, you’re speaking in riddles. I’m a simple man and don’t understand these things, but I know we can only rely on Lady Emilia. We hope she hears our voices, takes pity on us, and returns to save the empire, as she always has. We were deceived by that emperor—it’s our fault for wronging her.”
The boss spoke with a hint of shame, expressing his inner helplessness.
Sig, however, scoffed.
“Why do you think she’d come back? Does she owe you anything? No, she doesn’t. In fact, you owe her. You only feel sorry for her because you’re struggling to survive. If you were living well now, would you still seek her out? Would you still feel guilty? Hmph.”
“And, boss, I’ve been betrayed by someone I trusted completely. I know that feeling. Even now, it’s like a bone stuck in my throat, a thorn in my back.”
He spoke lightly, casting a teasing glance at the silver-haired girl beside him, smiling as he gently patted her slender thigh.
It felt pretty nice.
She lowered her head in shame, biting her lip softly.
Guilt and embarrassment tangled in her heart as her delicate hand pressed against her chest, trying to ease the strange sensation.
He didn’t dwell on it and continued.
“If I were her, I’d never come back. I’d hide and watch you all reap what you sowed, bear the consequences. If I were more radical, I might even take revenge. Unless… never mind, no point talking about it. Let’s eat.”
Though his words trailed off, the situation between Emilia and Sig seemed to hint at that “unless.”
The boss, unwilling to give up, pressed further, rubbing his hands like a fly, pleading.
“Guest, please, just tell me.”
“Fine.”
Sig, who had planned to eat, looked at the table full of “snow” and swallowed hard.
He really couldn’t bring himself to eat it.
So, he decided to chat with the boss instead.
Maybe, just maybe, Emilia would finish all the food while they talked.
A perfect plan—he was practically a genius.
“Let me ask you, if Emilia were willing to come back, what price would you empire folks be willing to pay?”
“We’d be thrilled and line up to welcome her!”
“My God, your apology is so cheap, and your sincerity is nonexistent. Repaying evil with kindness—what’s the point? You know better than anyone what you’ve done, what you’ve said. You think because you’re part of a group, the guilt gets diluted, shared among you, so no one feels truly at fault. That’s the biggest mistake of all. If that’s how you are, I’ve got nothing more to say.”
His words stopped abruptly.
He didn’t dare imagine Emilia’s situation back then—manipulated, foolish crowds; a pathetic, brainless lover; hostile nobles and the church; and a broken, isolated her.
The boss soon left tactfully, and the onlookers dispersed, leaving just the two of them.
She elegantly ate the food in her bowl, following a “clean plate” policy.
Sig, sitting beside her, seemed to be mulling something over, hesitating to speak.
Finally, he spoke, his tone soft and unexpectedly gentle as he leaned back in his chair.
“You’ve had it tough, Emilia. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? You’re incredible for never crying.”
“….”
She paused, her hand stopping mid-motion.
Glancing at Sig, her vision blurred as long-held tears began to fall uncontrollably, for reasons she couldn’t explain.
Her delicate hands wiped at the tears, but they wouldn’t stop.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. I just… can’t stop.”
“Don’t….”
Sig started to say to keep her distance, worried she’d ruin his new clothes.
But the girl hugged him anyway, her stunning face rubbing against his chest, utterly shameless, as if they were close friends.
He frowned, visibly annoyed, but couldn’t shake her off.
What the heck?
Her true identity was soon exposed because of this, spreading through the empire’s streets.
Unfortunately, the two had already left, returning to the Demon King’s castle.
And Gerald, most likely, was about to have an even worse time.
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