When Richard entered the dining hall, most of the seats were already taken. Some people had begun eating, but judging by their barely touched appetizer plates, they hadn’t gotten far.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Though he had become far busier since succeeding Tarten, Richard still retained the warm, dependable demeanor of the cousin everyone trusted. He greeted the table with a smile before taking his seat.

The formal birthday celebration, with all the family gathered, was scheduled for tomorrow.

Tonight was meant to be a simple dinner shared with close relatives of the same generation, accompanied by a few drinks, just like always. Most of those at the table were cousins who used to spend time with him frequently during his stay at The West Wing.

The day had been a whirlwind. From morning until now, he’d been buried in tasks. The only break he’d managed was a short stroll with an elder in the afternoon. Even that had ended with him rushing straight back to his office.

“……. ”

Something seemed to cross his mind. Richard fell briefly into thought, then let out a quiet chuckle and raised his glass.

He wet his lips with wine before touching his food, and immediately noticed the subtle murmur running through the group. The kind of undercurrent that suggested someone had brought up an amusing story.

Pulling his appetizer plate closer, he leaned toward Claude, who was seated nearby, and asked,

“What’s going on? There’s a buzz tonight—feels like there’s some interesting topic.”

“Huh? Oh…… no, it’s nothing really……. ”

Claude’s vague reply suggested it wasn’t anything serious.

Richard raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity, but didn’t press. Instead, he picked up his fork.

As the meal continued, filled with the usual pleasantries and idle chatter, Richard glanced around the room. He had noticed it upon entering, but now it stood out even more: One seat was still empty.

“…… Christoph? He’s not joining us for dinner?”

Richard brought it up casually, but Claude hesitated for a moment and gave a small shrug. A gesture that said he didn’t know.

“Hmm. It would’ve been nice if he joined us.”

Richard made the remark out of politeness before picking up his fork again.

Claude nodded in what seemed like admiration.

Perhaps Richard’s already generous heart had grown even wider since taking over Tarten. To think he would even express concern for Christoph, of all people—his long-standing nemesis.

Even if it was just a polite remark, the fact that he’d said it at all was surprising.

“Should I go get Christoph?”

It was Yamin, seated a little farther down the table, who suddenly asked.

In the middle of his meal, Richard raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. It seemed he hadn’t expected anyone to actually suggest that. And for good reason, as far as he knew, no one at this table particularly enjoyed sharing a meal with Christoph.

Richard looked at Yamin for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

“Sure, why not. But seeing as he hasn’t shown up on time, he’s probably already eaten. AAnd honestly, would he even come? He’s not the type to join a group without a reason—he doesn’t care much for socializing.”

“True enough……. ”

Yamin nodded, evidently convinced.

Just then, from the end of the table – where he was performing a rather impressive feat of clearing his entire plate into his mouth – Johan suddenly chimed in.

“Just call him. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come down quietly if you tell him he’s got an terminal illness.”

As he said this, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket and started dialing, his mouth still busy the whole time. Watching him, Richard tilted his head slightly, an odd look on his face.

“An terminal illness…… ? What are you talking about?”

As Richard set down his fork, his smile immediately faded.

Johan, who appeared to be on the phone with Christoph, was urging him to come down to the dining room and join them for a meal and a chat. But he was too absorbed in juggling his call and his plate to hear what Richard had just said.

Richard slowly looked around the table.

“Christoph, is he…… sick or something?”

His words were measured, his expression faintly stiff. Claude, fidgeting uncertainly under Richard’s subtle gaze, finally gave a small shrug.

“No, not exactly sick. It’s just… that kind of rumor’s been going around.”

“A rumor? That he’s sick? ……. Why?”

Richard furrowed his brow slightly as he asked again. Claude, who rarely saw Richard without at least a hint of a smile, looked at him curiously and hunched his shoulders.

“Well, you know how they say people start acting strange when they’re about to die?”

“…? So?”

“Christoph’s been acting kind of……. strange.”

Richard fixed Claude with a steady gaze, as if trying to decipher his meaning. But when no clarity came. Eventually, he asked softly: “Strange how?”

Claude scratched his head. Then, after a furtive glance around the table, where the others wore similarly hesitant expressions, he finally spoke.

No one seemed opposed to sharing, but there was a vague sense of reluctance in the air…, like speaking it aloud would make it too real.

“Christoph…… said hello.”

“……. What?”

“Christoph said hello. In the hallway. To Nico. He said it first.”

Richard felt silent.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know Christoph well enough to brush it off: ‘What’s the big deal? People greet each other when they pass by.’ But this was Christoph.

After a long pause, Richard turned back to Claude and asked,

“That’s it? So you’re saying he’s not sick?”

“Yeah, um…… I think.”

The reason Claude added “I think” was because, while the current rumors of a terminal illness were most likely untrue, there was still the slim possibility that Christoph really had fallen ill without anyone knowing. That sliver of uncertainty lingered.

Claude continued eating, thinking to himself that it was a little surprising. He’d expected Richard to simply click his tongue and say: ‘How unfortunate’, with a look of vague pity if he ever heard Christoph had some terminal illness, then go right back to not caring. Richard wasn’t a bad person. In fact, Richard was an exceptionally good person to them all, but everyone knew how cold he was when it came to Christoph.

Then, as if he’d never stiffened at all, Richard resumed his calm, pleasant smile while eating. At one point, he spoke in a half-joking tone.

“Still, it is a bit strange, isn’t it? Christoph greeting someone first. He’s the type to ignore you even when you say hello to him. Did he have some great revelation while he was in Saudi Arabia?”

Richard laughed aloud, and the people around him laughed along.

Finally, the atmosphere seemed to return to normal. The dining room filled with the familiar sounds of conversation and casual enjoyment.

At that moment, Johan snapped his phone shut and said casually,

“He said he’s coming.”

His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but the dining hall instantly fell silent. All eyes turned to him.

Even with nearly a dozen gazes trained on him, Johan continued calmly chewing on his turkey leg. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he finally looked up, blinking as if to say ‘Huh?’ He wiped the grease off his lips with the back of his hand and glanced around. “What?” – He asked.

“He’s really coming? ……. Didn’t he already eat?”

“Yeah, he said he did. But I told him: ‘Hey, it’s been a while—let’s talk’, and after a long pause, he agreed. You know how he is—he’ll probably take forever dressing up like he’s attending a state funeral.”

Another strange silence settled.

Whispers bubbled up from every corner:

“He must really be terminally ill—”

“How much time does he have left?”

“Maybe it’s a deathbed change of heart—”

In gatherings with many people, conversations usually broke off into two or three small groups. But tonight, for once, everyone was united and focused on a single topic.

As hushed and speculative murmurs continued to ripple through the room, Richard quietly turned his gaze toward Johan.

“Johan, were you close with Christoph?”

“Hmm? I guess? We never fought, but we weren’t exactly close either.”

Johan rolled his eyes upward in thought. He was the type to keep things even, never especially close with anyone, but never in conflict either. Richard gave a small nod, as if to say: ‘Right, that sounds like you.’

The low buzz of repeated conversations lingered for a while, but slowly, the subject began to shift. Still, almost without realizing it, everyone kept glancing discreetly toward the door.

Then someone suddenly spoke up to Richard.

“Honestly, I didn’t think he’d come. You and Christoph don’t exactly get along, right? I figured he’d just ignore your birthday altogether. But I guess he does have some sense of being part of Tarten, after all.”

They added, almost offhandedly: “Well, he did manage to carry himself decently in Saudi Arabia—at least enough not to disgrace the name of Tarten.”

Richard raised his glass and wet his lips, offering a noncommittal smile.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, I’m just grateful he came all this way.”

The others nodded slowly, a bit uncertainly.

Now that they thought about it, Christoph had worked under Richard for a short time, just before heading to Saudi Arabia—back when Richard had only recently been named heir. Maybe they had gotten closer during that time? Quiet murmurs like these circled among the guests.

Just then.

The dining room door opened, and Christoph stepped inside.

As if they had all been waiting for it, a brief silence passed through the room.

Christoph entered quietly, but when he noticed that an unnatural hush had suddenly fallen the moment he stepped in, he glanced around with a puzzled expression.

Soon enough, everyone pretended nothing had happened and returned to their conversations. In the middle of his third steak, Johan raised his knife-holding hand in greeting. Christoph hesitated for a moment, but without a word, walked over to the empty seat beside him and sat down.

“Hey, you’re popular, huh? Everyone lit up when I said you were coming.”

Johan said this as he grabbed the remaining leg of a turkey – the other one already torn off and eaten by himself – from the large platter in the middle of the table and ripped it cleanly away.

At Johan’s comment, Christoph made a confused face, and so did everyone else at the table.

No one was happy. Just……. morbidly curious. The words were practically written across their foreheads, yet no one had the nerve to actually say them aloud. Instead, they simply kept chewing, pushing food into their mouths in silence. Christoph glanced around at them and gave an awkward: “Uh…”

Seeing that stiff and impassive face, Johan mumbled with a mouth full of turkey: “What, feeling shy? Embarrassed? Come on, we all know each other here—what’s with the awkward act?”

Again, countless people silently muttered to themselves: “Shy? Embarrassed? That face? Seriously?” But no one said it out loud.

Christoph didn’t respond, merely cast a sideways glare at Johan.

Then, suddenly, his eyes met Richard’s, the man seated at the head of the table, as always.

Richard slowly turned his gaze away. As if nothing at all had happened, he continued the conversation he’d been having with the person next to him.

“…….”

Christoph stared at him for a moment, then quietly turned back to his own empty plate and began placing a few cooked vegetables onto it.

“You gonna fill up on that? Eat some meat, for God’s sake.” – Johan grumbled: “No wonder you look pale as a ghost—living off greens like some damn rabbit.”

Johan picked up a spoon and heaped generous portions of braised meat onto Christoph’s plate. Christoph immediately frowned.

“Why are you putting food on my plate without—”

But he stopped mid-sentence. Wrinkles formed between his brows as he thought for a few seconds. Then, looking at Johan with an oddly serious gaze, as if reading aloud from a textbook, he said:

“Thank you for your consideration. I’ll enjoy this.”

“Huh? Uh, sure.”

Johan nodded casually, not giving it much thought. But only after he finished chewing and swallowing a mouthful of meat did he seem to realize something was off. He glanced at Christoph with a puzzled look, and most of the people who had overheard Christoph’s words were doing the same.

“Hmm……. do they teach character development Spartan-style in Saudi Arabia or something?”

Johan tilted his head, confused. But as soon as large slices of cake and fruit appeared for dessert, he brightened instantly and dove toward them without hesitation.

Across the table, Jakob had been sneaking glances at Christoph for a while now. Ever since Christoph had given him that cryptic greeting earlier in the day: “Congratulations on your marri—”, Jakob had been unable to stop thinking about it.

But like most people at the table, Jakob was far too timid when it came to Christoph. He couldn’t bring himself to ask directly, even as the curiosity gnawed at his brain.

So even while slicing and plating cake, Jakob kept casting glances at both Christoph and the dessert. Noticing the gaze, Christoph glanced sideways. Their eyes met.

Jakob panicked. Holding a bread knife in one hand and a plate in the other, he blinked nervously—then blurted out without thinking,

“Want some cake?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Christoph didn’t particularly like desserts.

And more importantly, whenever someone spoke to him without a specific reason, he often made no effort to hide just how irritated he was.

But then—

“…… I don’t like cake.”

After a brief pause, Christoph – who at first seemed on the verge of showing his usual annoyance – unexpectedly shifted his expression and replied flatly.

It would’ve been better if things had ended there. But Jakob, who was soon to be a groom and had recently been getting strict etiquette training from his fiancée, asked again almost reflexively,

“Then…… how about fruit salad?”

Even he didn’t know why he was being so insistent. Regretting his own loose tongue, Jakob was already chastising himself when Christoph, frowning slightly in silence, finally responded with a sulky tone,

“…… Then just a little. Thanks.”

The words didn’t match his grumpy voice at all. Jakob’s eyes widened, and he froze in place.

Christoph stared curiously at Jakob’s statue-like stillness for a moment.

Only under that gaze did Jakob snap back to reality, hastily put down the bread knife and grabbed a salad spoon. He began scooping fruit salad onto a new plate in a frenzy.

“Here, here you go.”

Jakob muttered as he timidly offered the plate. And once again, in that same deadpan voice that didn’t match the words at all, Christoph replied with a “Thanks.”

By now, even the onlookers had forgotten their meals, staring dumbfounded at this surreal exchange. Jakob, his mind just as scrambled, moved to set the plate down but *clink* his elbow bumped the dish of braised meat beside Christoph.

“Ah……. !!”

Accidents always happen in an instant.

The meat and sauce cascaded onto Christoph in a glistening wave, his pristine white shirt blooming yellow stains in seconds.

“W-what do I do…”

Poor Jakob, teetering on the edge of full panic, flailed helplessly before seizing his own sleeve and scrubbing furiously at Christoph’s ruined shirt.

Rubbing one shirt with another was obviously not going to clean the stain—it only made it spread more and transfer onto Jakob’s own sleeve. Yet Jakob, too frantic to think, kept scrubbing Christoph’s soaked chest and stomach with his sleeve, not realizing until several belated seconds later that the atmosphere around them had turned icy.

“……Huhk….”

The moment Jakob understood why, he froze stiff. The sleeve that had been vigorously rubbing came to an abrupt halt.

Right now, he was putting his hands all over Christoph, though it was completely unintentional, but that didn’t matter.

‘I’m dead.’

The thought flashed through Jakob’s mind.

Christoph never let anyone touch him unless it was the slightest, purely accidental brush.

And here Jakob was, not only manhandling him but also dumping braised meat all over him.

‘I’m going to die before I even get married. I’m sorry, Adele…’

Countless thoughts raced through his head in those few seconds. After even sending up a last prayer to God, Jakob slowly raised his head, ready to face his doom.

But.

“……., ……Could you move aside?”

In his frantic scrubbing, Jakob had ended up just a hand’s breadth away from Christoph. At this close distance, the man’s striking, statue-like beauty was even more overwhelming as he spoke calmly.

Jakob hastily scrambled back a few steps, then raising both hands in surrender: “S-Sorry! I mean, I didn’t mean to—!” He babbled, desperately trying to explain.

But Christoph merely glanced down at his ruined clothes, clicked his tongue in displeasure, and said:

“It’s fine. These things happen.”

“……. E-Even though I touched you, you’re okay with that……. ?”

The words slipped out before Jakob could stop them. And for the third time today, he wanted to bite his own tongue off.’ Why do I keep digging my own grave like this?’

But contrary to what Jakob expected, Christoph would instantly narrow his eyes with that cold glare and say something like: ‘No, that’s unacceptable. Time for you to die now.’ (though in reality, he wouldn’t even say anything—he’d just act) Christoph instead took two deep breaths as if calming himself, and then, like someone making a monumental decision, finally spoke:

“If it’s just a little, I don’t mind touching other people. Just a little.”

He emphasized “just a little”, but still, those words had definitely come out of Christoph’s mouth.

At that moment, the dining hall fell into a silence so heavy it was almost frightening. Only the occasional sharp *clang* of something being dropped broke through.

Jakob, in a daze, found himself thinking: ‘So these guys were all pretending to have other conversations, but were actually eavesdropping the whole time, huh…’

“Really? You don’t mind? Let’s see.”

The first to react was Johan, who yanked over the forgotten cake plate, devoured it in three bites, and then, without warning, grabbed Christoph’s hand.

In that exact moment, while everyone was subtly watching, Christoph’s arm gave a small twitch. He looked down at Johan’s hand with visible displeasure.

And yet—

“……. If you’ve tried it, then let go now…?”

Christoph’s voice was calm, measured.

Johan, as if even he hadn’t expected to actually do it, blinked wide-eyed in surprise. He stroked the back of Christoph’s hand twice with his palm, then finally let go.

“Huh. I always thought Saudi Arabia was just oil and sand, but maybe it’s worth visiting. Sounds like their character-education program is top-notch.”

“Johan. Are you picking a fight with that comment?”

“No, no! Ain’t no way! I’m genuinely impressed! Hey, but your hands are even softer than they……., wait, no, exactly as soft as they look. Rolling around in that harsh desert and yet your skin is just……. truly, the wonders of the human body.”

Johan marveled at Christoph while simultaneously dragging another plate of food toward himself. Watching the growing stack of empty dishes in front of Johan, Christoph muttered with a look that suggested even the thought of eating that much made his stomach heavy.

“The real wonder of the human body is probably not me, in this case.”

“Huh? What?”

“……”

Christoph silently cut into his cake with a fork and took two deliberate bites.

As he chewed quietly, a few people who had been cautiously observing the situation began to inch forward under the cover of an awkward silence.

“C-Can I…… touch you too?”

“Me too, just a little……. “

Stealthily stealthily, fumbling fumbling, none of them dared get close to Christoph’s torso, but a few hands edged in, lightly brushing against his hand or arm before quickly retreating again.

Each time, Christoph flinched almost imperceptibly, his expression one of pained endurance as he glared at his cake plate. But not once did he say ‘Don’t’ or push them away. Only when one particularly bold hand grazed the back of his neck did he visibly recoil, shooting a sharp glare at the culprit that made them instantly withdraw.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted into something…… strange. There was a palpable tension, as if something prickly and unspoken was moving just beneath the surface.

“Ah-hem.” – Someone cleared their throat from farther away, then casually picked up a water glass and headed toward the dispenser in the corner of the dining hall. On the way, they “just so happened” to brush Christoph’s shoulder lightly in passing. And then walked off with a goofy, sheepish grin.

Scattered coughs began rising from various corners of the room.

Still chomping through the very last bite of meat left on his plate, Johan looked around the dining hall, smacking his lips with a puzzled expression.

“What are you circus clowns all doing? Not eating?”

But no one answered Johan’s question.

Only Christoph sat there, growing more and more tense, while people around him suddenly got very busy going back and forth to get water.

Then—

*Scrraape* – A chair leg dragged noisily against the floor. Richard, who had been quietly eating for a while without saying a word, stood up.

‘Ah—Richard too?!’ – People turned with startled eyes, only to freeze when they saw his face.

There was hardly any trace of his usual smile left. It was as if he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

“I have unfinished business to attend to. Excuse me.”

Maybe it was just their imagination, but even his voice sounded icy cold.

All at once, the room’s atmosphere dropped a few degrees. Without another word, Richard strode out of the dining hall. As he passed, he glanced sideways – just once – at Christoph with a desolate, cutting gaze. But he didn’t speak to him.

After he left, the dining hall fell into a still, soundless quiet, filled with an ambiguous tension.

“He didn’t look like he was in a good mood.”

“But he seemed fine when dinner started, didn’t he?”

“So then…… was it because of Christoph?”

“But come on, that guy didn’t even do anything. If anything, he’s finally acting more human.”

“Right, but Christoph and Richard really don’t get along. It’s no wonder Richard would be annoyed, with all these clueless guys hovering around Christoph like a bunch of moody teenagers.”

“Ah. Like when someone you hate suddenly becomes popular?”

“Yep, yep.”

*Whisper, whisper* As murmurs spread and people leaned in toward each other, whispering with deep frowns and serious expressions, Christoph simply sat there gloomily, poking at his cake. And still—hands kept creeping in toward him from all directions.