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Chapter 28
Three Pyramids. When You’re Obsessed with Egg Tarts
To be honest, Edmund was on the verge of fainting.
‘I left the medicine behind. Damn it.’
Sometimes, there were moments when something would just come crashing down on him.
That sensation of the ground trembling beneath his feet, the terror as if the whole world was collapsing, and the moment where he felt like he might just die then and there.
In those times, there was nothing he could do.
All he could do was hold his breath and wait for the pain to pass.
Everything that tormented him lay in the past.
The mad wizard who had created Edmund, the man who had tortured him while laughing, and the countless eyes that had put him on stage and auctioned him off by number.
Even though he knew they no longer existed in the present, the seizures did not disappear.
Perhaps it was a defect that had been there from the moment he was made.
‘That lunatic made me. There’s no way that bastard was a genius.’
Edmund had been created for one purpose only: as a tool for experiments.
He didn’t know the disgusting process by which a human could even be manufactured. But for as long as he could remember, he had been inside a laboratory. It would’ve been better had he been made unable to feel anything at all. But the wizard laughed while watching him writhe and cry in pain.
‘How entertaining.’
‘Does it hurt? Oh-ho, it really does feel alive… Very well-made.’
Humans were revolting. Filthy and vile.
Edmund had firsthand experienced just how devilish humans could be to the weak who couldn’t resist.
He also learned never to trust others so easily.
All of his senses had been sharpened to the extreme.
Everything he could feel only made his life harder.
Sight, touch, smell, pain—he wished his senses would just shut down. He couldn’t swallow anything, nor could he fall asleep.
The past was gone, all his enemies had been torn to pieces by his own hands—so why had the pain not ended?
Wasn’t revenge supposed to bring peace?
He had clawed his way forward, consumed only with the thought of repaying the pain he had suffered. But when he had achieved it all, what came to him was only agony and emptiness.
Those who tormented Edmund had found peace in death, but he, who had lived a lifetime in torment, was still not freed.
‘That’s just too unfair.’
But if life itself was pain, then Edmund would rather die.
‘No… I can’t just die. After everything I went through to survive, how can I die?’
Besides, if he died, he would undoubtedly fall into hell where the enemies he had personally torn apart awaited him.
Then… would there ever come a day when he would finally feel peace?
Unable to eat in comfort, unable to sleep in comfort.
Unable to touch anyone.
Living on alone, enduring pain—wasn’t waiting endlessly for some unpromised “someday” also a form of torture?
Why did he have to keep living, enduring all this?
‘Lately I’d been doing better….’
Edmund curled up, waiting desperately for the damn seizure to pass.
In front of his lowered head, a small pair of feet stopped.
When he looked up, a pale round face stared back at him in fright.
‘Ah, the one from that shop Maurice took me to.’
The chubby girl who had argued with Maurice, pouting, now looked like a prey animal cornered by a predator.
The way she bit her lip, frozen in place, overlapped with how Edmund himself used to be.
That was why he spoke to her.
‘Such a good smell….’
Instead of being repulsed by another’s body heat and scent so close to him, his appetite stirred. It was the first time in his life he had ever experienced something like this.
Warm body heat, her grumbling voice, and the savory fragrance.
His frayed nerves seemed to ease. Even if only for a brief moment, Edmund decided to help Ellie, the one who had given him this comfort.
At the center of the commotion was a blonde beauty with blue eyes.
Her confident expression, clear voice, and eyes shining with a sense of justice resembled a hypocritical child Edmund once knew.
And almost as soon as the memory surfaced, Edmund spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
Van Michel Cronin.
Van also recognized him.
The only reason Edmund had spared him before was because there had been too many people around at the time. And besides, killing him wasn’t simple—Van’s background wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
Maurice had said it wasn’t worth losing their present advantage over a mere child. But truthfully, that was only because Edmund needed to stay as Tower Master in order to be useful.
Yet the present turned out to be neither glorious nor liberating. It was nothing but an endless continuation of pain. Something so trivial, he wouldn’t miss it even if it were lost.
So there was no reason to endure.
Seeing Van rush toward him after spotting Ellie in his arms, Edmund smiled inwardly.
Let’s see you die, then.
A crisp sound broke.
The texture of flaky pastry and the sweet, rich custard cream filled his mouth—he thought he could hear bells ringing somewhere.
‘To think something like this existed.’
Had he ever felt happiness from putting something in his mouth before?
Never. Not once.
He stuffed his mouth with egg tart like a madman, chewing greedily. The sensation of food sliding down his throat, warming his stomach…
The heat that spread within his body brought drowsiness.
From the moment he smelled the savory scent, his frayed nerves had begun to loosen. Now, with a full belly, they completely relaxed.
When he was with Ellie, he could actually sleep. He could actually eat what she made.
Sitting on a chair by the sunny window, he felt like a content cat basking in warmth.
The scent of bread soaked into the wood of the shop, the quiet murmur of voices, and the sweet, soft egg tarts made only for him.
Edmund slept and ate greedily.
Ellie allowed him to do as he pleased, even though all she’d really given him was a few things she’d baked.
At this rate, it was only a matter of time before she was betrayed and thrown out onto the street.
“Why, is something on my face?”
“No. It’s just… round.”
“They say a circle is the most perfect form.”
Ellie replied shamelessly, and Edmund burst into laughter like a balloon popping.
“In that sense, you need to eat more, Edmund. The path to perfection is long and arduous.”
“Which is why I’m eating hard, aren’t I?”
“…But you need to exercise too, to be healthy….”
“Nope. Doesn’t matter if you try to kick me out. I’m not leaving.”
“What are you going to do if you end up unemployed…!”
Ellie looked at him with a complicated expression.
Edmund understood well why Ellie couldn’t push people away.
It was because the warmth of others was too precious—too lovable—to easily cast aside.
That wasn’t weakness.
It was because she was lonely, because she longed for someone.
Even after being hurt by people, she still yearned for warmth, and so she couldn’t reject it.
Though her words were sharp, inside she was soft, like the bread she baked.
The place at her side, and the egg tarts she shared, saved him—someone who for so long could neither sleep nor eat.
Edmund didn’t want Ellie to be hurt.
He wanted to protect that soft interior, that courage to share warmth.
He didn’t want her to become broken like him.
Perhaps then, the life he had endured would finally gain meaning.
Ellie would probably tell him not to stake his whole life on something as small as a few egg tarts.
But to Edmund, it was something so great it couldn’t possibly be called small.
At the very least, it made him think he couldn’t die—not yet, not before eating this again.
That alone was extraordinary.
It was better that Ellie never knew.
“What’s this?”
“Please try it. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
“No. I won’t eat something suspicious.”
The man snorted.
Maurice tasted a slice of nutty campagne bread he’d prepared. Though the man didn’t outright accuse him of poisoning it, his refusal made it clear he didn’t trust him.
“I’m only here because my brother ordered me. I really don’t understand why we’re wasting time. This tiny country could be crushed in an instant.”
“Because justification is important for everything.”
“Justification is whatever you make of it. History is written by the victor.”
“Yes, that’s true. But public opinion and reputation matter too.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you. What would a merchant like you know?”
“I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”
“I don’t understand my brother either. If he’s decided to attack, he should just do it. Why insist on personally coming here first?”
And why use a snake like you.
Even without saying it aloud, his eyes conveyed the sentiment clearly. Maurice only smiled faintly.
At least he was quiet—that was something.
“Well, I do have a fiancée in this country. I suppose I should meet her.”
The engagement with the McClure dukedom had been arranged before they were even born.
“If she pleases me, I’ll just take her with me.”
Otherwise, she could simply be toyed with and thrown away.
