The Possession-Spoon Chef Feeds the Empire - Chapter 64

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

Chapter 64
“Hic.”
A silhouette swayed at a small table in the corner of the kitchen, illuminated by a single dim lamp.
A middle-aged man with an unsteady frame, tangled gray hair matted with neglect, and clouded blue eyes.
Several liquor bottles lay scattered before him.
“…Devron?”
Devron lifted his head and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Sniff. What are you doing here?”
“That’s my question, sir. What are you doing in the kitchen?”
“Well… I didn’t want the servants to see. Edwin’s about, and the kitchen’s usually empty.”
“…Are you crying?”
“Of course not… sniff.”
Even as he shook his head, Devron fumbled for a handkerchief and blew his nose with a sharp sound.
Looking closer, his eyes were badly swollen—he’d been crying for quite some time.
Cain’s body went rigid with discomfort.
Encountering a brother he wasn’t close to was awkward enough in the kitchen, his sacred late-night refuge.
But there was no protocol for dealing with this brother weeping pitifully while blowing his nose repeatedly.
“Perhaps you should retire to your room to… we need this space—”
“What happened?”
Cain had been about to offer a rational suggestion to Devron, who was crying in hiding, but Luciel cut him off.
Though curiosity mixed with her tone, her green eyes held genuine concern as they turned toward Devron.
“Well… what good would it do you to know?”
“I don’t know… you seem a bit…”
Luciel trailed off.
She didn’t particularly like Devron.
And yet, by instinct alone, she felt drawn to offer him her attention—
“You look hungry.”
“Hungry? …I suppose I am.”
Right.
Luciel nodded.
Ever since her hands had grown strong enough to grip a ladle, she had been a cook.
It was second nature to her—when she saw someone who looked hungry, she wanted to feed them.
“Sniff! No! I don’t deserve to eat!”
The moment their eyes met, Devron burst into tears again.
Weakened as he was, Devron felt the weight of Luciel’s attention deeply.
“She said… sniff… she wants a divorce.”
Once the dam broke, the words tumbled out between sobs.
“What? Your wife?”
“Who else would it be? She’s leaving me, and taking Edwin… oh! Loren!”
He buried his face in his hands and his body shook several more times.
Cain stepped back rather than offer comfort.
A divorce? And not from just anyone—from Devron?
From that kind-hearted wife of his?
“…I see.”
He couldn’t guess at the reason, but in truth it wasn’t crucial information for Cain.
What troubled him was an ominous feeling.
This unexpected intruder disrupting his quiet meal wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.
“Would you like some Castella?”
And his premonition proved correct.
Luciel, who was more generous with food than anyone in the Empire, had casually invited Devron to join their late-night repast.
“There are other provisions in your room.”
Cain said urgently, though it was already too late.
“Those scraps the servants leave behind… sniff… they have no flavor. Would it truly be alright if I stayed?”
“Of course.”
Cain gritted his teeth.
He wanted to refuse, but Devron—whether genuinely guileless or simply foolish—was already looking at him with bright, hopeful eyes.
“I’ll be back shortly.”
Luciel returned to the kitchen with the air of someone who’d made a decision.
Her eyes gleamed with a different light than they did when she looked at Devron—the light of hunger satisfied.
Cain handed Devron a clean handkerchief from his own pocket and began to dread the conversation that was coming.
“It’s because of what happened at the Imperial Palace today. It must be.”
Devron dabbed at his face with Cain’s handkerchief as he spoke.
“What do you mean by that?”
Cain asked flatly, arms crossed.
He was answering out of human decency, but he was far from happy about this situation.
He’d wanted a peaceful late-night meal.
Not that he’d planned it consciously, but with only himself and Luciel, he’d expected to secure a larger portion than usual.
“As you know, Loren’s parents passed away before we married.”
Devron, regardless, had apparently decided to bare his soul and continued speaking.
“I know.”
“As the eldest daughter, Loren was set to inherit half of the marquessate… and you know, didn’t she have marriage negotiations with Cedric before?”
Cain nodded.
The marriage of Devron and Loren Feiton was well-known among the Empire’s nobility.
Even Cain, a child at the time, had heard about it.
Loren, the marquess’s eldest daughter—not beautiful, but said to possess the brightest smile in the Empire—and Cedric, the future duke, had seemed a reasonable match for each other.
But just as everyone expected their marriage, Loren Feiton became pregnant with Devron’s child.
The two married almost immediately, of course.
Not long after, Cedric publicly became the lover of a woman from a minor noble Branch Line.
That woman was Siena, Bael’s mother.
“The Feiton House Council of Elders didn’t favor me. They had been hoping for Cedric—someone who would maintain the alliance between our houses, represent the marquess in his wife’s stead since she disliked politics, and generally be a man useful to the family.”
“…”
Cain reluctantly nodded several times.
“Still, we married. I loved Loren, and she… had no other choice. A child had already come.”
“What I see, though—”
“In any case, when Loren married me—”
Cain tilted his head in confusion, but Devron was too busy with his own narrative.
“She ceded the marquisate and the earldom of Riamonde—inherited from her mother’s side—to my younger brother, keeping only a nominal title for herself. A marriage alliance was formed between our houses, and the Council of Elders made acceptable terms with Cedric, the future duke, in the process. So we managed to get past it.”
“…”
“Then my lord died. That’s when the misfortune began.”
“What?”
Devron picked up the wine glass Cain had pushed aside and drained it in one swallow.
“The Feiton House Council of Elders suddenly started looking to me again with hope.”
“With hope? You mean regarding the Succession Rights of Bellaon?”
“Yes. Loren’s aunt sent her a letter saying she could reclaim what she’d long ago given up—that you, who could have held both the dukedom and the marquisate, should do so now. Judging by the way she kept the letter, Loren thought so too.”
“…”
“When you marry, you’ll understand. I must become the heir, I… I must. I’m not built for this.”
So that was it.
Cain’s brow furrowed.
So Devron’s sudden grasping at the Succession Rights wasn’t about ambition—it was about desperation.
Losing ground to Osborn and Melina within the family was inevitable, so he was struggling to win the Emperor’s favor instead.
It made sense that his relationship with Cain, who had arrived unexpectedly, remained strained.
“So I…”
“I’ll clear away the glasses. It’s unbecoming for an adult to appear drunk with a child nearby.”
“…You’re right about that.”
Devron acquiesced blankly in the face of Cain’s firmness.
“And perhaps consider the situation more objectively—”
“I’ll sober up and think more carefully about how to handle this situation with the Imperial Household.”
“What?”
He’s not going to fetch his wife?
“What does the Imperial Household have to do with—”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’ve ruined everything. My actions incurred the Crown Prince’s wrath, and somehow—Loren found out and left me.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“No. She must have realized it. She judged that I couldn’t fix it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have left. If only I’d done better, if only I’d been more like Cedric—”
“Please stop talking nonsense—!”
Cain’s patience was reaching its limit.
Then a sweet aroma began to drift from the cooking station.
A fragrance of butter and egg, sweet and rich.
Not merely the smell of something delicious, but the kind of scent that dissolved tension the moment you breathed it in.
Once you’d inhaled it fully, the subtle sweetness of honey trailed behind it.
Lifting his head, Cain saw Luciel standing above them, a plate of Castella in her hands.
“I heard quite a lot of nonsense while cooking.”
She wiped perspiration from her brow as she looked at Devron.
“Did you know your mind becomes clear once you eat?”
“…It does?”
“It does for me.”
Devron’s gaze gradually drifted toward the Castella.
Cain understood.
Devron’s nostrils were also responding to this fragrance.

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