Chapter 22
“Is something the matter, Milady?”
Jean, the Ducal Manor’s esteemed chef who had the meticulousness to match his reputation, was currently sweating bullets in front of me. It was quite the sight to look at since he was several times bigger than me.
As if he could read my mind, he wiped off the sweat on his forehead, perhaps to mask the mismatch of his current disposition.
“No, but I’m here to ask you something. Are you the one who plans His Grace’s meals?”
“I coordinate with Doctor Raymond, yes. We adjust his meal plan every week after the doctor is done with the usual check-ups.”
“You do know there’s…very little meat in his diet? It’s mostly just vegetables and watery soup.”
I could feel that they’re trying their best to accommodate a sick person’s frail condition. Still, could anyone even call these proper meals? Unconsciously placing a hand on my own stomach, just imagining actual meals made me hungry.
“His Grace’s metabolism is not so good, so I always try to make his meals as light as possible.”
“Hmm.”
I looked at the meal plan again, but wasn’t this too extreme?
“Is there a problem, Milady…?” Jean grew nervous as my expression became more serious.
“His stomach is really…really delicate…”
Immersed in my thoughts, I tapped my cheek with one hand and rested my chin on the other, failing to remember that I was still injured.
“Ack—”
The pain that I had forgotten inadvertently poured in all at once. My hand throbbed terribly, and worse, the sudden memory of being close enough to touch Amoide at the pavilion rushed through my mind.
Though he was frail due to his illness, it was apparent that there was still some solid muscle there beneath his skin. If it hadn’t been for his unknown condition, I could at least make him eat more. Perhaps if something could be done to stimulate his appetite, he’d be able to eat more than the meager diet Jean and Raymond were feeding him…
Nobody would contentedly eat like a rabbit as the way he did if the food served was palatable enough. It is necessary that Amoide would consume more than just vegetables and watery soup.
“It’s just that…”
“Please don’t hesitate to speak your mind.”
“People have to eat meat.”
“…Pardon?”
“You’re starving him with this meal plan. Even noblewomen on the day of their debut would eat more than this.”
It was common knowledge that the debutante ball was an all-important landmark for the ranks of nobility, and for this, women often went on hellish diets to force themselves into their dresses.
I remembered my time as a maid in a wealthy aristocrat’s mansion. Back then, on the day of the young lady’s debut, she partook in only a piece of grass to munch on to get her through the day. Hence, it was natural that she was on the brink of collapse the whole time.
And Amoide was eating less than her.
“Then, Milady, you must have been starving during your debut.”
“Me? No way.”
Following my blasé response was an awkward smile.
“I don’t really gain weight easily.”
“Ah.”
Jean only nodded in agreement. He just followed along and believed what I had said was true, but the truth was there just wasn’t enough to eat usually. I never had the luxury to starve myself of my own volition like those noblewomen.
“My husband has a huge build, and he used to wield a sword— and he was the youngest Commander of the Empire’s First Order of the Knights!”
As I spoke, I stretched my arms upward in exaggeration to emphasize my point, while Jean’s eyes followed the motion.
“That is…but…”
“Imagine if I made you eat like His Grace.”
The prodigious chef, who rose to his outstanding position at the tender age of eighteen, was rendered speechless. He must have realized what I’m trying to say now.
“Would anyone be able to regain their strength by eating grass like this? It’s such a cruel punishment for an already powerless man, Jean.”
Hearing my own words, I unconsciously shifted my gaze toward my hand. Yeah, what I said was true, but it was still weird how he had enough power in him that caused this much injury to my poor hand.
Jean’s eyebrows bunched together in the middle.
“That’s…”
“You’d find it hard, right? You’d lose even more vitality.”
“Vitality… Yes, I see now…”
Jean nodded fervently.
“A man needs to have power, of course!” Suddenly, he sat up and lifted a burly arm to show off his muscles.
“Vitality for the day…and for the night…!”
“Now, you understand.”
I tried to suppress my grin.
“My husband won’t be able to digest meat well at first because it’s been so long, but he’ll be able to eat some if you chop them into small pieces. I think you can make it work, after all, you’re the best of the best, right Jean?”
“No need to state the obvious, Milady.”
He puffed up his chest and flashed a proud smile.
“Then, I’ll count on you to improve His Grace’s meal plan so he can regain his strength. Something invigorating and easy on the stomach at the same time.”
“I shall try my best, Your Grace.”
I nodded in return and gave him a satisfactory smile. At that moment, I noticed that the knife he had been holding earlier was now placed carefully in one corner.
“May I know where you buy the ingredients?”
“Our meat, vegetables, milk, and eggs are all from the Duchy’s farm. The ingredients must be as fresh as possible after all.”
Matching his enthusiasm, I agreed with him excitedly.
“Yes, using fresh ingredients is indeed the basis of fine dining.”
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