SRVB 18

Chapter 18

“It’s Maximus, Your Highness.”

Raphael fastened the buttons of his shirt and replied,
“Come in.”

Maximus entered the room and bowed politely.
“What is it?” Raphael asked.

“I came because I was curious about the result of the wager you made earlier today, Your Highness. Depending on the outcome, we may need to change Strawberry’s place of residence.”

At that, Raphael’s mind immediately recalled Lilia’s cooking.

His brow furrowed slightly.

To be honest—hand over heart—Lilia’s food was far too delicious for his liking.
It was like stepping onto a new stair of gourmet enlightenment.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Acknowledging the cooking of the wicked woman who had stolen everything from him was a matter of pride.

As Raphael brooded, Maximus carefully opened his mouth.
“Couldn’t Your Highness show her a bit of mercy? She’s young, after all. Keeping her locked up in a small room all day can’t be good for anyone.”

“…Do as you please,” Raphael said curtly.

“Thank you. And, well…”
Maximus scratched the back of his head, clearly hesitating.

“You have something else to say?” Raphael prompted.

“Well, although Your Highness already gave the order, the knights keep pestering me… Would it be all right to let Strawberry cook for us again once in a while?”

At the mention of Lilia’s cooking, Raphael’s throat involuntarily swallowed.
But his reason kicked back.

‘She doesn’t even have enough time to paint, and now cooking too?’

Though another thought flickered in his mind—

Honestly, I want to eat her food again…

His reason and desire began a fierce battle inside him, with neither side yielding.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make.

✦ ✦ ✦

Crunch!

Riven, who had stopped by the kitchen, bit into a strawberry tanghulu. The hardened sugar shattered between his teeth with a satisfying sound.

“This texture in my mouth—it’s fascinating. And fun, too,” he said, cheeks flushed.

Another knight who arrived late held one tanghulu in each hand.
“I’m not even fond of fruit, but if it’s like this, I could eat it every day!”

Seeing them enjoy it so much filled Lilia with joy.
Her shoulders ached from making so many, but it was worth it.

She glanced at the plate where she’d placed them. Except for one stick she’d set aside for Maximus, it was completely empty.

‘Already gone, huh.’

Besides the knights, there were also servants working around the mansion.
She’d wanted everyone to have one, so she made plenty—but they’d disappeared in an instant.

‘Should’ve made more…’

The tanghulu had been part-bribe, part-kindness—
a way to win people’s hearts.

If enough people liked her, maybe she could someday escape Raphael’s grasp.

That was her plan… until—

“Wait!!”

Maximus burst into the kitchen, out of breath.

“Sir Maximus! You’re back! What did His Highness say?”

It shouldn’t be bad news, surely.
He’d eaten every bite of her food—surely he couldn’t order her back into confinement.

“That’s not what’s important right now! Why is mine gone again?”

Not important?! My whole life depends on this!

Maximus’s voice trembled as if he might cry.
“How could you do this to me? Not once, but twice! You left me out both times!”

“Don’t worry, Sir Maximus. I set aside a portion just for you,” Lilia reassured him.

“Really? I knew you were the only one who cared about me, Strawberry!”

“It’s over there, please—eh?”

…Huh?

The tanghulu she’d saved was gone.

Maximus’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Lilia began to sweat.
“I’m sure I left it right there…”

Crunch!

A loud bite came from nearby.

Both she and Maximus turned toward the sound.

There, at the doorway, was Riven—halfway out the door, with the last tanghulu in his mouth.

Lilia pointed at him like a tattletale trying to prove her innocence.
“Sir Riven is eating the last one that was saved for Sir Maximus!”

“Hey, Riven! You’re dead!”

Maximus lunged, and Riven dodged like a slippery eel.
“Stop right there, you thief!”

“Knights don’t stop for threats!” Riven laughed with his mouth full.

“Shut up! I can’t understand you—swallow or speak!”

Lilia watched their chase for quite a while.

Eventually, Maximus managed to catch Riven.
But since the tanghulu was already gone, it didn’t exactly feel like a victory.

✦ ✦ ✦

When Maximus returned from his long game of tag, he delivered Raphael’s message.

“As for the wager’s result—His Highness said, ‘Do as you wish.’”

Even villains, it seemed, had a shred of conscience left.

He hadn’t admitted her cooking was delicious, but he’d accepted the outcome of their bet.

And that meant Lilia had won.

Her reward consisted of two things:
One, if Raphael ever wanted to eat her food again, he’d have to beg—no, earnestly request it.
Two, she’d be allowed to go out freely.

Today, she planned to use the second one.

She needed to buy Celestine’s painting as soon as possible and learn more about the possibility of escape—exile, to be exact.

Although she’d earned the right to go out, she couldn’t just leave without saying a word.
She wasn’t a criminal sneaking off in shame.

So, through Hena, she sent a message to Raphael that she’d be going out. But minutes passed—dozens of them—and there was still no reply.

Cold silence.

Last time she’d said she wanted to go out, he’d responded with something bizarre like “Let’s have dinner together.”

Trying to suppress her anxiety, Lilia changed into a comfortable outfit for walking and decided to bring money.

‘Let’s see… The Exile Permit was sold at the black-market shop, right? How much deposit did they want again?’

She was planning to visit Celestine—the woman who ran the back-alley shop where one could buy or sell anything.
But she couldn’t recall the exact amount.

‘How am I supposed to remember something like that?!’

Though she did perfectly remember the golden ratio for tteokbokki sauce:
Red pepper flakes, gochujang, sugar—2 : 1 : 1.5.

“Whatever. I’ll just bring a lot.”

Raphael had paid an absurdly high price for one of her paintings.
Her purse was heavy enough—better to take too much than too little.

“What exactly are you ‘bringing a lot’ of?”

“Eek!”

She jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, the coin pouch slipping in her hands.

Slowly—very slowly—she turned her head like a rusty doorknob.

Behind her stood Raphael.

His eyes flicked to the purse in her hand as he spoke.
“You look like someone caught stealing.”

“S-stealing? Of course not! This is money I earned honestly through work!”

“Honestly? Do you not feel ashamed saying that? You basically took it for free.”

“You’re the one who decided the price of the painting, Your Highness. Are you saying you paid too much?”

“Hmph. I just don’t want to be accused of being stingy over money.”

…What was that supposed to mean?

In the original story, this villain was a duke of the empire, with immense wealth and power.
Even if he made her work for free, she wouldn’t have the power to protest.

‘Best not to press that topic…’

If he changed his mind and stopped paying for her paintings, she’d be the one to suffer.

“So, what brings Your Highness here?” she asked cautiously.

“You said you wanted to go out.”

“Yes.”

“For what purpose?”

“Um… I wanted to buy a painting for the studio wall, and maybe check out the new paints.”

In truth, she planned to buy Celestine’s painting and inquire about exile.

“Let’s go, then. Follow me.”

“…Huh?”

Before she could react, Raphael strode out of the room.
Wait—was he… coming with her?!

Oh no.

“Hurry up.”

Ugh. What choice did she have but to follow?

Hopefully, he’d only escort her to the gate.

But to her dismay, she soon found herself riding in the same carriage as Raphael.
And not just any carriage—a grand one drawn by strong horses, not a delivery cart.

The luxurious comfort almost made her forget her dread. Almost.

Across from her sat Raphael, impeccably dressed.
At the mansion, he usually wore only a shirt and vest—casual attire.
Now, though, he was in a tailored three-piece suit with an embroidered coat.

He’d clearly put effort into his appearance.

This wasn’t the look of someone just going for a casual outing.
He must have some important engagement.

‘Damn this cursed curiosity…’

He rarely started conversations first, so she had no choice but to ask.
“Are you meeting someone today?”

“Why? Planning to run off while I’m distracted?”

…Oh. That would’ve been a good idea, actually.

But no, this time she’d genuinely asked out of curiosity.
“Your Highness really has a talent for twisting my words.”

“You’re the only one who makes them twist.”

“What part of me do you dislike so much? Aside from my painting skills.”

“All of it.”

“You don’t even like my paintings, do you? Then why are you sponsoring me at all?”

“It’s called investing in the future.”

“…And if my skills don’t improve?”

“Hmm. Never thought about that. To make up the loss, I could always turn you into my full-time cook…”

He muttered the last words, then clamped his mouth shut—
but the damage was already done.