Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 82

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 82. The Taste of Gula
The Marquis Merelrof frowned as he stared down at the table. An old, small pouch lay open before him, revealing thick gula seeds inside—perhaps fifty of them, give or take.
“You’re telling me these are worth fifteen gold coins?”
The Marquis began calculating in his head, as was his habit.
Clark had been a slave purchased when a slave merchant passed through the estate, just like Lien. Young, strong slaves were difficult to acquire, so he had paid fifteen gold coins to bring him here back then.
But slaves lose their value as time passes, so from a long-term perspective, trading him for gula was absolutely profitable. Especially during times of famine like now.
“They said they wouldn’t trade for less than fifty coins per pouch. However, on humanitarian grounds, they gave us this much to help extinguish the immediate crisis.”
“This is absurd.”
Absurd—did he mean the quantity was too small, or was he referring to the purchase of gula itself? The butler couldn’t discern his master’s true meaning and merely bowed his head. Regardless, this man had money flowing through his veins. He couldn’t possibly be pleased.
The Countess Merelrof lifted the pouch’s edge with her cigarette holder.
“Did you have the slave documents drawn up?”
“Just a simple signature. The matter was urgent, so we decided to handle the notarization slowly when time permits.”
“Hmph. Young and foolish indeed. Who postpones document transfers? Who knows what might happen.”
“But this way we’ve obtained the gula, so it’s a good outcome for us.”
The Marquis said nothing and examined the gula seeds from various angles. He had only been aware of their existence before, so this was the first time he’d looked at them so closely. Despite having lived for decades.
“So, how does one eat these?”
“Raw, boiled, roasted, steamed, stir-fried. The possibilities are endless, they say. Shall I send them to the kitchen?”
They were worth fifteen gold coins, after all. No matter how much they resembled worthless weeds, having paid for them, he couldn’t let them go only to the servants’ mouths.
“Cook only two. Plant the rest in the garden.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Two would be for the Marquis and the Countess. The butler bowed and took the pouch, while Countess Merelrof exhaled cigarette smoke and leaned close to her husband.
“But I heard that in the capital, they already eat gula quite often?”
“All nonsense. It’s just a rumor that Ian spread to feed the estate villagers.”
“Is that really so? That fellow Romandro didn’t seem particularly reluctant either.”
The estate was already rife with rumors. But among them, one thing was certain—the taste was extraordinary. Otherwise, how could the Bratz villagers be so obsessed with farming it and eating gula three meals a day?
Knock, knock.
“A simple gula dish, my lord.”
“Come in. Hmm. What is that smell?”
“I prepared it using a cooking method I picked up from Bratz, though I’m uncertain if it suits your palate.”
“If it doesn’t suit me, then you won’t suit me either.”
The Marquis’s reply to the servant’s courteous words was utterly cold. The servant who stepped back swallowed dryly, tensing with anxiety.
“It looks quite good.”
“Indeed. If you didn’t mention it was a weed, you’d never know.”
The ones roasted until crispy with a sugar sauce emanated a sweet, caramel-like aroma, with golden, crispy edges.
And the boiled ones? They looked as plump as pudding, as if they would melt delicately on the tongue.
The servant sliced them thinly with a knife and presented them before the Marquis and Countess. Though truthfully, since they were smaller than eggs, slicing them seemed rather pointless.
“Dear, do try it.”
The Marquis was reluctant, but carefully brought a piece to his mouth. Given his usual image of gula, nausea rose within him, but what could he do? Fifteen gold coins! Having paid for it, he might as well taste it.
“Hmm?”
The Marquis, who had been frowning and muttering, suddenly stopped. A flavor he’d never experienced before melted across his tongue. The Countess smiled knowingly, her eyes gleaming.
“The taste is quite pleasant, isn’t it?”
“…Better than expected.”
“At this point, it seems the rumors spreading from the Central regions aren’t entirely baseless. I do wish a month would pass so I could taste properly prepared cuisine.”
As the Countess neatly scraped a piece with her fork, the Count stroked his mustache. He hated to admit it, but there was no denying it—this was truly a delicacy he’d never tasted before. After clearing his throat several times, he turned to the Butler.
“Keep this absolutely quiet. And it would be wise to station guards rotating through the garden.”
“Yes, Count.”
There would certainly be those with covetous eyes. Even the lady of the house, despite her station, believed the idle rumors—I could only imagine what the ignorant masses thought of Gula. With a crop worth fifteen gold coins, it demanded thorough management.
“And Butler.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Count wiped the corner of his mouth and issued his instruction.
“Bring two more this evening.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Gula, of course.”
“Ah. Yes, I understand.”
At the Count’s request to prepare it differently this time, the Butler fell into deep thought. With so few remaining in the sack, he worried they’d be depleted in no time—but more than that, he feared a beating for failing to satisfy the master’s palate.
Creak.
The Butler sighed and withdrew into the corridor, and the servants likewise retreated. A suffocating silence hung between the Count and Countess.
“Shall I pour you some wine?”
“What did you discuss while you were gone?”
“As you can see, a most enlightening conversation.”
The Countess rose from her seat and retrieved her husband’s empty glass. As she uncorked the wine, a servant approached, but she refused with a glance. Pouring the wine herself, she shared in detail what had transpired in Bratz.
“…And so, I checked Mrs. Mary’s room as well. It wasn’t there, of course. It was naturally lost in all that chaos.”
“Why would you want something belonging to a dead traitor?”
“Still, it was originally mine.”
The Count’s smile seemed broader than usual, which troubled her—though bringing Gula appeared to have been more significant than she’d thought. Before her return, he’d wanted nothing more than to wring its neck immediately, yet now he sat calmly savoring his wine.
Clink.
“Oh, forgive me.”
Tsk.
A servant who’d entered to clear the dishes apologized and withdrew at the proximity of the two. The moment the Marquis Merelrof’s gaze turned toward the door, the Countess swiftly sprinkled powder into her husband’s wine.
“Lien.”
“Yes. What is it?”
“But there won’t be a second time. If you return late again, I’ll break your ankles.”
“…What second time? I have no reason to go to Bratz anymore. And if I did, it would be with you.”
‘And you’ll be a corpse by then.’
“Understood?”
“Yes, I understand.”
The Count nodded with satisfaction and raised his wine glass. The Countess did the same. They clinked glasses lightly and smiled sweetly at each other.
* * *
“Hmm…”
“How is the condition?”
I summoned a doctor to diagnose Berik’s condition. He muttered in his sleep occasionally, but strangely, he showed no signs of waking. Even when I shook him, he wouldn’t come to his senses.
The doctor examined Berik’s state and answered.
“He is indeed asleep. Given the exhaustion accumulated in his body, it’s possible he cannot wake easily. What did you say the drug was?”
“A newly circulated narcotic from Hawan. I don’t know the exact components, but it seemed to be a hallucinogenic sleep aid. They say overdosing for about a month causes death by apnea, but Berik merely smelled the powder and collapsed like this.”
“There are people whose bodies don’t respond well to certain medications. This case is rather severe, but since he didn’t ingest it, you shouldn’t worry too much. However, since it’s a hallucinogenic sleep aid, there’s something you must be careful about….”
The doctor murmured while inserting an IV into the back of Berik’s hand.
“You must keep in mind that it has anesthetic effects.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Until his mind fully awakens, he may talk in his sleep, exhibit sleep habits, or in severe cases, behave like a sleepwalker.”
Romandro, who had been listening quietly, suddenly jumped up in alarm. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t matter, but if Berik exhibited sleepwalking symptoms, it would be truly troublesome. He was someone difficult to handle both in temperament and physical strength.
“Ian, shouldn’t we bring chains and restrain him?”
“It’s a good idea, but I’m not sure how effective it would be.”
“It’s better than doing nothing. Besides, no matter how much that bastard Berik thrashes about, he’s still human. He can’t break iron chains with his bare hands, after all.”
Romandro rushed out without waiting to hear more, calling for the servants. His voice echoed into the room, demanding they bring very large and sturdy chains.
“Hehe, ehehehe….”
Unaware of his predicament, Berik laughed foolishly at whatever dream he was having, smacking his lips. The doctor placed a bandage over the IV puncture site on the back of his hand and stood up.
“This is an IV to strengthen his stamina immediately. If he hasn’t awakened by tomorrow afternoon, please call me again.”
“What about the wound on his side?”
“Ah, the wound?”
At my words, the doctor laughed incredulously and shook his head.
“It has healed very beautifully. Still, the inside may not be fully healed, so he must be careful at all times.”
“As if he’ll listen to caution.”
“Nevertheless. Please contact me.”
“Thank you for your trouble. You may go.”
Creak.
After the doctor left, I sat back at my desk and spread out the documents. The room filled only with the sound of the fireplace crackling and Berik’s quiet breathing. As I concentrated for a while, I sensed something odd and glanced toward Berik.
“Ah.”
How startling.
Berik was staring at me with both eyes wide open. I flinched and frowned.
“The IV works well, it seems.”
“…Why am I lying here?”
“You smelled Lady Lien’s fragrance and collapsed. I’ll need to call the doctor again. Is there anywhere in your body that feels unwell?”
Berik slowly got up and walked to the window with a vacant expression. Then, with a faint sigh, he uttered a curse.
“Damn it, really.”
“Berik?”
“Am I dreaming right now?”
“No. You appear to be awake.”
His eyelids blinked slowly, and his eyes lacked any brightness. Could this be a form of sleepwalking? Berik pressed his forehead against the cold window, seemingly trying to fully wake himself.
“Berik. What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
“Ah, I’m seeing something strange.”
“Something strange? It could be the drug causing hallucinations. Calm yourself first, and take deep breaths.”
In that moment, I wondered why Romandro, who had gone to fetch the chains, was taking so long. I approached Berik slowly and grasped his arm, worried he might thrash about in his excitement.
“If you find it difficult to distinguish reality from hallucination, it would be better to sleep a bit more. I’ll have the Doctor summoned….”
“No. I can tell the difference.”
Berik irritably pressed his temples repeatedly.
In truth, there was no major problem. It was simply that his family, already dead with not even bone dust remaining, stood before him vacantly. Without a word, just as they appeared in his memories.
Berik sighed and muttered.
“My mood’s foul.”
Click.
Just then, Romandro entered with a Servant, carrying the chains. But upon seeing Berik standing perfectly fine, he stumbled backward.
“You’re awake?”
“What.”
It was a question about what he held in his hand, but Romandro’s face had gone pale and he stammered.
“D-d-don’t you recognize me?”
“What?”
“Ian, Ian! Do something about that!”
“Calm yourself, Romandro.”
I was about to inform him that Berik was actually fine, but noticing the situation, a smile spread across Berik’s lips. He then approached Romandro, playfully rotating his wrist.
“Where did this squealing pig come rolling in from.”
“Kyaaaah! Count Ian! Ian!”
“I should eat him! I’m hungry, so I’ll roast him!”
“Ch-ch-Cheonrye Soldiers! Where are you? Soldiers!”
Seeing him play around, his recovery was certainly swift. Romandro threw down the chains and fled outside, with Berik chasing after him, nearly catching him.
“Oink oink! Where are you going? Come here, pig!”
“N-nooooo! S-soldiers…!”
Thud! Boom!
Crash bang bang!
“Count Ian, is Berik truly alright?”
“Hmm? It seems so.”
Though he sees illusions, he’s aware they’re not real, so there should be no problem. His mental fortitude is certainly not lacking.
‘He’s not suited to be a Mage Knight for nothing.’
The uninformed Servant merely continued polishing the innocent chains.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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