There Is No Hidden Villain in This Novel Chapter 103

While we prepared a warm meal for the little Ryuseong, we calmly talked about what we had experienced in the dungeon while we were apart.

Although there was a major incident where the pitiful Ivan Karpin, caught between the affectionate lovers, looked extremely alienated and tried to strike up a conversation with the little Ryuseong, only to nearly have his face torn off by beast-like aggression, it was a major incident in his life, but a micro-incident to us, so we weren’t too concerned.

More than that, the fact that the little Ryuseong would calmly stop with a single word from me—”Stop!”—somehow made my heart swell.

‘I have to pet him a lot.’

After the micro-incident and a short discussion, we decided on soup and bread for the meal. The chef, of course, was Ryuseong again today.

The ingredients were provided by the three adults, each contributing a share, but Ivan Karpin, who wasn’t on my side, was ripped off the most.

This is because, considering the possibility of being isolated in the dungeon for a long time, it’s better to save a lot of my side’s food.

‘This is something that naturally must be considered! Ahem.’

Anyway, in that manner, we obtained red beets and sour cream, followed by carrots, cabbage, onions, tomatoes, minced garlic, and potatoes.

I used the excuse that since we were doing the cooking, he should provide the soup ingredients, and he gave them all willingly. Even though Ivan Karpin would end up taking on the role of guiding the recipe. Is he an idiot?

‘To make the local soup, a local is essential.’

The soup we were trying to make is called borscht. It’s characterized by a purplish broth from the red beets, and it tastes amazing with sour cream. I was treated to it after helping to exterminate specters in a nearby village, and it went down well even for me, who is sensitive to spices.

That said, we didn’t know if the little Ryuseong would eat borscht well, so we decided to prepare some universal foods as well.

‘I’m going to… empty out my subspace. Little Ryuseong. Listen carefully. Realize… sniff! …just how precious this opportunity is!’

The items I took out from my subspace were a bottle of wine, things to spread on bread, and several types of fruit. The wine was one of the few handmade products from a historic vineyard in Eastern Europe, which Cassis de Millang had bought at an auction. I’d been carrying it in my subspace for fear someone might steal it, but figuring when else I would drink it if not now when I might die, I took it out, and Ivan Karpin’s eyes flipped. That son of a bitch. Only recognizes the good stuff.

‘Even though he couldn’t get the dungeon opening date right.’

This won’t do. I’ll only give that bastard a single drop.

For the sugary stuff to spread on bread, there was yuzu spread and raspberry jam. In fact, there were a few more types, but as soon as I took out the fruit, the kid’s eyes went wide and his nose started twitching, so I decided to give him the goat cheese or chocolate types at the next meal. If he likes fruit, I should give him plenty. So I took out a bright yellow mango whose skin peeled off tenderly at a touch, tangy and tart purple mulberries with a popping texture, raspberries that spread a refreshing aroma when crushed between my molars, and fresh green apples.

‘I saved the watermelon to eat for dessert.’

Honestly, I know this is a hypocritical action for someone who said he’d conserve his subspace. But when Ryuseong was around that age, he was fucking wandering the wasteland, eating corpses. Corpses. Corpses. Regardless of whether they were specters or humans. Just rotting things. Tearing at them. That tiny thing, trying to survive somehow…

An innocent child, who knew nothing, had to live like that because no one protected him…

‘That’s not… right. That’s really… not right.’

…I want to give a fantastic experience to a child eating delicious food for the first time. What’s so bad about that?

‘Absolutely nothing!’

Meanwhile, in Ryuseong’s subspace, which he was prompted by me to open for cookware and utensils, there was, surprisingly, soft white bread like dinner rolls. I asked why a guy whose face suggested he’d be munching on hard
campagne would bring something so sweet and soft in his subspace, and Ryuseong smirked and asked back.

“You only eat things like that.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Soft and tender things. Sweet things. Always just things… like you.”

At this point, I seriously contemplated whether I should apologize to Ivan Karpin. What kind of suffering is this, being stuck between a lovey-dovey couple? He must be struggling to hold back his vomit. Damn it.

And so, we poured half a shot glass of wine each, shared it to warm our bodies a little, then mobilized the two remaining able-bodied men, excluding myself, to prepare the ingredients and start boiling the soup. As the cooking progressed, the little Ryuseong, who had been fidgeting, couldn’t stand the delicious smell and tried to put his bare hand directly into the pot. I felt strange, thinking that if I had grown up like Ryuseong, I would probably be doing the same thing right now, but I gently grabbed his hand and shook my head. I made sure not to raise my voice and scold him. I had no intention of startling him. Instead, I looked straight into the eyes of the little Ryuseong, who had his eyebrows raised and was growling as if to scratch me for interfering with his food hunt, smiled gently, and placed my own hand against the side of the pot, searing it.

“…!”

Ryuseong was about to let out a yell, but I snapped at him through telepathy. If you’re going to shout in front of the kid, don’t make any sound at all. I couldn’t see what kind of expression Ryuseong was making. But I could see the young Ryuseong’s expression distorting miserably as the sound of my hand sizzling grew louder.

The little kid grabbed my sleeve, trembling, and pulled me. Only then did I take my hand off the pot. And I showed it to the little Ryuseong. The flesh, cooked black.

“This is why you can’t.”

“Hic… Sob…”

“I’m not trying to bother you, or hurt you, or starve you.”

“Ugh… uh… ugh…”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I say no. Understand? You don’t touch that. No. Got it?”

“Ugh… uh. Hooo…”

The little Ryuseong, with tears welling up in his eyes, looked up at me, then nodded his head and threw his arms around me in a hug. I was worried he might be too shocked, but I thought this was probably the only way to make a kid who had literally lived by picking through trash like a stray dog understand. How else could you teach a child who hadn’t even learned a language without this kind of direct ‘showing’? Maybe it would be possible to beat it into him by yelling and getting angry, but I didn’t want to do that.

Because Ryuseong had done nothing wrong.

“…”

“…”

Eventually, I healed myself with blood magic. My fingertips became clean as if nothing had happened, but a silence lingered for a while. The soup simmered, and the vegetables softened in the purplish broth. The fact that we had added mutton and it would have a decent amount of fat felt quite encouraging.

Around that time, I slowly began to unravel the story of what had happened. How I had met Ivan Karpin, and then the little Ryuseong.

After that, Ryuseong shocked me by saying that he had just had a run-in with a guy who seemed to be the boss mob and had run away.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Why aren’t you the one who’s surprised? No, more importantly, why are you telling me this now?”

“You were cheating on me.”

…How many more years will it take to explain that it wasn’t cheating?

I was so dumbfounded that I was at a loss for words and couldn’t answer. At that, Ryuseong’s spirits rose.

“That’s what you get for cheating.”

“Hah. For goodness’ sake.”

“You can’t kiss anyone but me.”

“Are you really going to be like this when we’re not even really dating?”

“No, we agreed to date for real last time, didn’t we?”

“…”

Well, Ryuseong did ask me to date him for real back when I was crying my eyes out and making a scene. But had I agreed? When I was too speechless to say anything, Ryuseong brazenly spread yuzu spread on a slice of bread with the crusts cut off.

“You also gave your silent affirmation, so that means we’re dating.”

“…That’s nonsense. I never agreed…”

I was about to declare, never.

“But I like you.”

“…”

“I love you.”

“…”

“I want to date you. Can’t I?”

Ah, ugh. I felt like my head was about to stop working. Damned Ryuseong. Damned, foxy bastard. Why are you so cute that you make me want to nod my head right this instant? I’m, not ready yet. I’m not the real Cassis de Millang, I’m not the person you like, so I’m not someone who dares to receive the love you give me. I’m not someone who should receive that precious heart of yours. I can’t accept something like that. It’s shameless…

Yes, that kind of thing is shameless. It’s theft. But you, with your strangely gentle and soft smile, captivate me. Wow. I. I’ve never been so captivated by someone before. I’ve really never, not once, been like this…

“Hee. Nya.”

“Uh, yes? Our Ryuseong. Is there something you want?”

At that moment, the little Ryuseong made a cute baby kitten-like sound and drew my attention. I melted into a puddle at the little Ryuseong’s cuteness, and at the same time, I felt grateful for the chance to ignore the adult Ryuseong’s earnest feelings.

The little Ryuseong was pulling my arm, making cute, tantrum-like noises.

And the grown-up Ryuseong was glaring at that little kid…