Chapter 55

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 55

Chapter Title: The Awkward Banquet

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"...".

"...".

And so the grand banquet unfolded in utter awkwardness and silence.

A perfect setup for choking on tension.

But not for me.

I'd parried the opening salvo brilliantly and had countermeasures ready for the Empress.

'Plus, you have to eat what's left! Revenge runs on a full stomach!'

Lately, I'd been eating with gusto.

The memories of those early regression days, when I'd suffered so much, were still fresh.

'Dieting? Toss it out the window!'

During wedding prep, I'd eaten like a bird and nearly hit rock bottom on stamina.

I'd thought I was done for riding horseback nonstop for three days straight.

All thanks to Evangeline Ruth and Ludwig Kielern's gaslighting.

"You're not trying to embarrass me as a fat bride, are you?"

"Oh my, big sis. Eating so much? Won't your dress burst?"

Those words flashed back, firing me up to eat even more aggressively.

'Stamina is national power!'

Once I handled the urgent stuff, I'd work out to build it up more.

With that resolve, I dug in heartily.

'And it's delicious! As expected from the palace chefs. Top-notch skills.'

Thanks to that, I polished off my plates spotless.

That's when the Empress, slowly recovering from the shock of failing to pry Arpad's hand from mine and being ignored by the Emperor, picked a fight.

"The Delphin family must have very free customs. Eating so gluttonously."

Hmm, my imperial snark-to-plain-speak translator kicked in fast.

'No proper upbringing, so you eat like a pig?'

That was the vibe.

I swallowed the last bit of tongue sole sauté lingering in my mouth with a smile.

Then beamed back at her.

"Thank you. My late father always worried about Mother's and my health. He said we had to eat properly."

The Empress's brow twitched.

Of course it did. My reply basically meant:

'Unlike you, our family had great parents with a loving marriage. So Dad prioritized our health.'

And naturally, no one at this banquet was oblivious to our exchange.

The Emperor kept a straight face, quietly emptying his plates.

Arpad...

He suppressed a bursting laugh and personally served me garnish with truffles, shallots, and asparagus.

"My wife's right. I'm always worried our baby squirrel is too light and skinny. Eat more."

Twitch.

My shoulders shook involuntarily.

'Baby squirrel? Here, of all places?'

Even the Emperor looked baffled, glancing between us.

The Empress, naturally, glared daggers.

'"Baby squirrel" hits harder than him pretending to yield veggies he hates!'

Indeed.

After months as a couple, I'd learned plenty about Arpad.

Including his picky eating habits.

"You leaving all the veggies?"

"Dragon blood doesn't jive with greens."

Pure nonsense, of course.

The Emperor, same bloodline, ate his veggies fine.

He'd probably say the late Empress did too.

But I couldn't call him out in front of the Empress: 'Dumping what you hate, you picky eater!'

Not proper before the Emperor either.

And skipping it? Impossible. He'd forked a huge zucchini right to my lips.

In the end, I had to go 'ahh~'.

'It's delicious, which makes it even more annoying!'

Why did the palace chefs have to make everything so tasty...!

"As expected of the head chef. Delicious."

"Oh dear, you're making me jealous."

Jealous of what?

I nearly scowled but held it in.

He'd dumped his hated veggies on me, sure, but the lovey-dovey act served its purpose.

"Won't you say it's tastier when I feed you, my baby squirrel?"

Thankfully, no shoulder twitch this time at 'baby squirrel'. It was getting familiar—kinda scary.

I wouldn't lose!

"Of course it is, but..."

I blushed, glancing at the Emperor and Empress.

"It's embarrassing with you two watching."

Truth be told, when he called me 'baby squirrel' and my limbs curled up in cringe, I'd vowed revenge.

'Payback in kind!'

I'd coin a nickname he'd hate and use it publicly.

And here was the perfect chance.

I speared some green pod beans—ones he clearly despised—and held them to his lips.

"Here, Rifa. Say 'ahh'."

'Rifa' was my masterpiece nickname.

For Arpad.

After agonizing over something cute he'd never tolerate.

And sure enough.

The Empress nearly spat her water; even the Emperor muttered low.

"Ri... Rifa...?"

For the first time since I sought him in the catacombs for the abduction marriage request, Arpad's red eyes shook like an earthquake.

I whispered.

"If you don't eat here, rumors will say we're not on good terms."

I added a taunt for good measure.

"And as Crown Prince, surely veggies aren't too bad to eat?"

"...".

Arpad didn't hesitate long.

He clenched his jaw like he'd steeled himself, then lowered his head to take the pod beans from my fork.

Crunch—he ground his teeth on purpose, but I played dumb.

"Chew thoroughly, Rifa. Can't have you choking."

Arpad's brow spasmed faintly as he smiled, chewing slowly like he'd pulverize the beans.

"...Don't worry, my little squirrel. I won't give you cause for concern."

The Empress finally snapped.

"It's good you're close, but... isn't it too much? Like you're trying too hard to show off?"

Arpad ramped up the lovey-dovey assault.

"A harmonious marriage is a blessing—no need to hide it. Just like you and Father did."

Even amid the PDA, he slipped in a jab at the Empress.

No one missed the unspoken: 'Unlike you two.'

'Oof, that stings to the bone.'

Arpad had gritted like she was his mortal foe before swallowing the beans.

Meanwhile, I'd finished his garnish dump. It was tasty, after all.

In the end, Arpad and I cleaned our plates; the Emperor too.

The Empress barely touched hers.

Our fervent PDA must've killed her appetite.

'Serves her right—daughter's deeds repaid to the mother.'

I smiled brightly.

"Your Majesty, you hardly ate. Was it not to your taste? I'm worried for your health."

I added meaningfully.

"The head chef's served you long... Shall I put in a word?"

"...!"

The Empress's brow spasmed.

My words meant:

'Looks like palace management overwhelms you. Need help?'

She smiled through her twitching brow and shook her head.

"No, I just eat lightly by habit. Don't trouble the poor chef."

"Glad to hear it, Your Majesty."

Of course she wouldn't agree; I backed off gracefully.

Just then, plates were cleared and dessert arrived.

"Blancmange with almond cream and cherries."

The pink pudding was topped with vivid pink syrup, honey, gold dust, and cherry blossoms—adorable.

As I eagerly dipped my silver spoon in, Arpad snatched it.

And started feeding me himself.

"This cute pink dessert, like you—I've been dying to feed it to you myself."

"Oh, Rifa. You're too sweet."

I hit him again with the magic nickname 'Rifa'.

And was shocked by his utterly calm reaction.

Sweet, soft bliss slipped into my mouth.

It poked my tongue, then melted into ecstasy.

'Ah... delicious...'

I thought it unconsciously, then froze.

Arpad showed no embarrassment or flinch.

If anything...

'He's enjoying this?'

Even after 'Rifa'?

Then he scooped dessert with the same spoon that'd been in my mouth, took a bite, and whispered.

"The nickname my cherry blossom canary calls me is sweeter than song, more than this dessert."

"...".

I conceded cleanly.

'I lose.'

No nickname would embarrass him.

And then it hit me.

'Wait—so earlier, his face twisted because of the veggies for real?'

I glared in disbelief as he fed me another spoonful.

Nom nom.

Dessert's innocent; no resisting.

Only much later did I realize we'd shared one spoon the whole dessert time.