IOC - 19

I descended the stairs slowly, trying to suppress my heart, which was pounding all the way up to my ears.

Is it a customer?

Did they see me bringing in a monster?

If I were caught, it wouldn’t be strange at all to be dragged away as a monster cultist.

Holding my breath, I cautiously opened the door. There stood Lionel, clad in a hooded cloak. But the hood was utterly useless, his golden hair and flushed face gave his identity away instantly.

“You...!”

Seriously, why even bother wearing a hood if you're going to be that obvious?

“Do you have any idea who I am to commit such an atrocity against me?!”

“I heard you’re the Crown Prince.”

At my retort, Lionel’s golden eyes flashed fiercely.

“Knowing who I am, you still dare to mock me so insolently?”

Not really. The one who did the mocking last time wasn't me, it was Lionel. He left without paying, didn't he?

If Geoffrey felt like a dark, heavy presence, Lionel felt more like a prickly, high-born brat. Naturally, my words came out a bit crooked.

“The one who ate without paying was you, dear guest.”

“…What?”

“In our inn, all guests are equal, every guest is a King. Provided, of course, that they pay the price.”

“Ha. Equality.”

Lionel’s golden eyes narrowed into thin slits.

Well, it was an absurd thing to say. Equality in an Empire where the social hierarchy was absolute? True to form, a scoff escaped him as he curled his lip into a smirk.

“Come to think of it, you brought up money last time, too. I see. You wrap it in lofty words, but in the end, it’s just a demand for payment.”

Precisely. In reality, it was a demand for cash.

In a capitalist society, demanding fair compensation for labor is a given, but that was logic that only worked in the modern world I came from.

Discussing equality and rights in front of an Imperial Royal, was I looking to lose my head?

Moreover, my opponent was the Crown Prince, a man famous for his foul temperament. Ordinarily, this was a situation where I should be banging my forehead against the floor and begging for mercy. But because he was slightly shorter than me, he felt strangely approachable, so I just threw caution to the wind.

When I ran out of things to say, I bit my lip and fell silent.

Lionel’s cold voice sliced through the brief silence.

“Who knows? If you were to, say, kiss my feet, I might toss you a gold coin.”

“…….”

My heart sank. At the same time, I could feel my face burning up.

Confirming my reaction, Lionel’s eyes curved slightly as he scanned my flushed face.

“What is it? You’re so obsessed with money, yet you can’t accept an offer like this? I suppose you still have a shred of pride left.”

My throat went bone-dry. I wasn’t hungry, yet I swallowed hard as if famished.

I forced myself to wet my dry lips, clenching and unclenching my trembling hands several times. Only after all that could I finally look him straight in the eye.

Carefully, I caught my breath and opened my mouth.

“…That offer.”

“Why? Is your pride wounded?”

“Is it one gold coin per toe?”

My mouth practically watered.

You know those "Would You Rather" balance games?

Suck an oil tycoon's toes for hundreds of millions vs. Just live your life.

I was overwhelmingly in the former camp.

“…What did you say?”

Lionel asked back as if he hadn't heard correctly, his eyes widening in shock. But my mind was already racing with calculations.

Yes, it wasn't my stomach that was hungry, it was my wallet.

The reason my mouth was watering wasn't for a stone pot of soup, it was for the price of a royal's toes.

Managing my fluttering heart, I immediately dropped to my knees in front of him.

“W-what are you…!”

Lionel, retreating in a panic, ended up collapsing into a chair. I wasn't about to miss that opening. I immediately grabbed his ankle and tugged off his shoe.

As the expensive leather boot came off, a fine, neat sock was revealed. I stripped that off without hesitation, uncovering a pale, dainty foot.

A royal foot. Pristine, groomed like a luxury item.

I gulped.

Big toe, one gold. Index toe, one gold... middle, ring, pinky. Ten gold for both feet.

How many bowls of soup was that? An illusion of shimmering stone pots marching in a line danced before my eyes.

And then, I immediately took his big toe into my mouth.

“……!”

Lionel gasped sharply. Contrary to what one might expect, there was no odor at all. Instead, a faint scent of citrus tickled my nose. As the foot, maintained with luxury oils for a lifetime, brushed against the tip of my tongue, a subtle, rich sensation spread in my mouth.

As if providing a scaling service with my tongue, I used the tip to thoroughly sweep between each toe. No dirt or grime appeared. It was a perfectly managed royal foot.

I moved straight to the index toe, tracing its length with my tongue. A strange, addictive flavor of saltiness mixed with high-end fragrance filled my mouth.

“S-stop it……!”

I looked up to find Lionel biting his lip hard, struggling to maintain his composure. But his crimson face betrayed his dignity, radiating heat.

Grinning, I moved to the middle toe and made a loud slurp as I sucked on it. As I gave it a broad sweep with my tongue, Lionel finally struck me across the face with the sole of his foot.

Thwack!

Despite being the one who kicked me, Lionel squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in both hands. With his ears glowing red and his hands shielding his face, not a trace of the haughty Crown Prince’s dignity remained.

Finally, a voice dropped out, sounding as if it had been forced through a sieve.

“…V-vulgar.”

But I wasn't finished yet.

I licked my lips and cast a lingering, regretful glance at his feet. At that, Lionel scrambled to his feet, threw down a heavy pouch of money from his waist, and stormed out the door.

I was left with the money pouch and the blissful, lingering heat on the tip of my tongue.

Still, royalty is royalty. They sure are generous! Feeling the heavy weight of gold in my palm, I decided to be a big person and consider the previous "dining and dashing" incident water under the bridge.

***

After a busy morning of service, I had a brief break because I ran out of ingredients. It was right before I headed down to the market.

Hah, hah, hah..

Ragged breathing reached my ears. Had it sensed a presence? The creature's eyelids lifted with effort, and red eyes flashed amidst the dark fur.

After a brief exchange of looks, the monster let out a low growl, baring its fangs. As I stepped closer, it raised a front paw and pushed me away weakly.

“…Ah.”

It was clearly a weak gesture. Yet, the moment the tips of its claws brushed me, a vivid red line appeared on my arm, and beads of blood began to drip.

As expected, even injured, a monster was a monster.

However, as I watched the blood drip from the wound, an unknown emotion surged within me.

The sight of it resisting with every ounce of its strength even on the brink of death, it looked less like a monster’s roar and more like a young animal’s final struggle.

I hesitated for a moment. I could just kick it out now. But I couldn't bring myself to leave.

Ultimately, I let out a sigh and headed to the kitchen. I ladled some hot broth into a bowl and gently slid it toward the creature.

“Want some?”

The voice that left my lips was softer than I expected. I’d never raised an animal, but I remembered a TV program where someone in the countryside fed porridge to a sick beast.

So this should be fine. Besides, it's a monster. A little MSG in the broth won't kill it.

The creature continued to eye me suspiciously before sticking its neck out, clearly parched. It gulped down the liquid and suddenly its eyes widened.

It glanced at me in surprise, then lowered its head and finished the rest of the broth. A moment later, its belly looked round and full, and it slumped over as if falling asleep. However, it didn't look like it was fading away like before. Its breathing had become much more rhythmic.

I settled the creature more comfortably and covered it with an old blanket.

Afterward, I headed to the market to restock ingredients and buy some medicine.

“Aren't you closing too often lately? Are you feeling unwell?”

The butcher asked me with a worried look.

“I’ve just been busy. I think I need to hire someone.”

“I can see why. Your place has been packed lately. What are you looking for today?”

“Pork head meat and... ah, a whole chicken. And could you recommend a pharmacy?”

“Are you sick?”

I felt a sudden jolt of guilt but laughed it off.

“I got a small burn earlier.”

Geoffrey had already treated it, but there was no need to mention that.

“You have to be careful!”

The owner’s shout echoed warmly. I waved lightly and hurried along.

Upon returning with herbs from the pharmacy, I set a medicinal pot on the stove. As the subtle scent of herbs began to spread, a whole chicken simmered in a pot next to it, creating a rich broth.

I washed my hands and went into the room. I carefully wiped away the blood matted in the monster's fur once again and wrapped each deep wound hidden beneath the fur with bandages. Blood seeped into my fingertips, but the cotton and bandages were no longer turning red. Only after the monster's ragged breathing turned soft did my tension finally begin to ease.