Chapter 21

Polenta refers to a dish made from easy-to-find grains like corn, barley, or chestnuts, cooked into a porridge-like consistency.

While the texture is intentionally coarse, giving it a rough feel when eaten, this is part of its charm. Made from easily accessible ingredients, it’s a popular dish among commoners, as it can be made in large quantities and is quite filling.

However, if prepared properly, it can be as delicious as any other dish, and it provides a strong sense of fullness even when eaten in small portions, making it suitable as an emergency ration.

More than that, it's not just eaten like porridge. When cornmeal or barley flour is added and it’s hardened, it turns into something akin to...

‘A delicious rice cake.’

It becomes a chewy, flavorful corn cake with its characteristic coarse texture as part of its appeal. With a hint of goat cheese and herbs, it’s far from bland. It makes for an excellent and hearty meal.

“This is a clever way of preparing it. I’ve eaten it like porridge before, but this way, it’s different and kind of addictive.”

“I learned this while working at an inn, oh no! I mean, back when I was doing part-time work! It’s so tasty, I’d make it for myself often.”

“Is that so? I’ve never seen it prepared this way. Mind telling me which inn it was? I’d like to try it myself.”

“Oh, uh, the inn probably doesn’t exist anymore. It was, uh, a long time ago.”

“Really?”

“Y-yes!”

…She’s lying.

If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.

‘I don’t know what she did before she was possessed, but she definitely wasn’t in the performing arts.’

If she had been, her acting wouldn’t be this terrible.

‘In her own way, she’s as simple as Leira.’

Is this typical of romance novel heroines?

In most romances, the main characters always act like they’re clever but end up getting betrayed and rapidly lose their intelligence. Is she one of those?

‘She’s about on par with the maid, though.’

Over on one side, Leira, having stuffed herself with polenta, was now choking and running around looking for water. She grabbed a bucket, dunked her face in it, and began slurping.

Couldn’t she just drink normally? Does it always have to be this dramatic?

…Watching her is never boring, but it’s embarrassing when others are around.

“Uhm, is she going to be okay?”

“Just ignore her.”

“W-what?”

“I said don’t worry about it. She’s incredibly healthy.”

“…Oh, okay.”

Irene blinked, still watching Leira with a curious look, then ducked her head again when she felt Ihan’s gaze on her.

She now resembled a pitiful soul coming to a loan shark to beg for money.

Seeing this, Ihan wondered.

‘Did I do something terrible to her?’

Seeing Irene tremble like a frightened kitten, Ihan scratched the back of his head awkwardly, as if he had wronged her in some way.

It wasn’t proper manners to just send away a neighbor who had brought a housewarming gift—well, housewarming polenta in this case—especially since they already knew each other.

So, Ihan offered her some tea and had her sit down for a bit.

More importantly, Irene didn’t seem to mind or want to refuse.

In fact, she almost seemed eager, as if she had been waiting for this moment. She sat down, drank the tea, and had eaten most of the polenta she brought along.

She adapted well.

But that only made it more suspicious.

‘This is fishy.’

Honestly, she was too comfortable, which made it suspicious.

Think about it.

There was no connection between Ihan and Irene.

Sure, Ihan had been tasked with investigating Irene Windler, but that was something only Ihan and Isis knew.

And yet, all of a sudden, she had moved in next door.

…It’s particularly strange because the house had been empty just the day before, and now she was living there. How could it not be suspicious?

Ihan’s guard went up as he quietly asked,

“Cadet Irene, I apologize for asking something personal, but may I ask you a question?”

He decided to probe her a bit.

“Huh?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why are you staying in such an out-of-the-way place? Given your status, you could live in the dorms, or in one of the properties owned by the Galahad family. As far as I know, the Galahad family owns about 70% of the buildings near the academy.”

“…….”

“I apologize if the question is too forward.”

“No, no, it’s a perfectly reasonable question…”

Although she said it was fine, Irene’s complexion didn’t look good, so Ihan focused a bit more on her, wondering if there was something deeper going on.

After all, he had just read some rather disturbing information about Duke Galahad.

Who knows?

Maybe she’s being mistreated.

Or maybe she was kicked out of the dorms because she’s a commoner…!

“The dorm application period ended before I even knew it existed, and I didn’t want to use the Galahad family’s properties. Honestly, that man gives me the creeps. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“…?”

“No, really, he’s strange! Every time he looks at me, I get chills! He looks like a girl, but his words and actions are so shady! Honestly, I just don’t want to be anywhere near him. That’s why I turned down everything he offered. I didn’t want to get involved, and... oh.”

“…….”

“C-can you pretend you didn’t hear that?”

“…As you wish.”

“...Thank you.”

She must have been bottling it up for a while.

It seems like she has quite the grudge against the duke.

‘I guess she had her reasons after all.’

Some might doubt whether everything she said was true, but Ihan was convinced she wasn’t lying or acting.

Why?

Because...

Thump, thump.

Her heartbeat told him.

His hearing could detect heartbeats more accurately than a stethoscope pressed to the chest.

He trusted his abilities, which even Isis had been impressed by.

‘She’s a simple but honest girl.’

Through a bit of conversation, Ihan gauged what kind of person Irene Windler was.

She was clumsy and lacking in some areas, but that’s typical of people in their teens and twenties.

It’s the kind of inexperience that comes from a lack of life experience and social interaction.

He wasn’t criticizing Irene—just stating a fact.

Sure, she seemed awkward and had a tendency to speak rashly, but that could be chalked up to the eccentricities that come with being a mage.

And for a mage...

‘She’s remarkably normal.’

Considering that 90% of mages are psychopaths, she wasn’t that bad.

While Ihan had a biased view of mages, he didn’t think he was wrong.

After all, 90% of the mages he had encountered had been psychopaths.

Though, they were all dead by his hand.

“U-uh!? Why am I suddenly so cold...?”

“Is the cabin chilly? I’d appreciate your understanding. There are still many parts that haven’t been fixed.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Actually, Instructor, I look forward to getting along with you. Since we live so close, I guess we’ll be seeing each other often.”

“…I look forward to it as well, Cadet Irene Windler.”

She extended a friendly hand first.

Normally, the only time Ihan would touch a mage’s hand was when he was smashing it with a hammer or burning it with a torch, so this normal handshake felt strange.

Why are my thoughts like this when holding a woman’s hand, you ask?

You don’t apply normal standards to mages. They’re that dangerous.

The fact that she was a mage diminished her feminine appeal, and on top of that, she might be the adopted daughter—or even the real daughter—of a mad duke. Her appeal plummeted into the negatives.

Getting involved with her wouldn’t end well.

‘She’s kind, though... kind, at least….’

No matter how many pluses you multiply with negatives, you still can’t turn them into a positive.

…Above all...

‘How many people has that man planted around here?’

Her adoptive father, being the lunatic he was, only made the negatives grow.

Click!

Ihan clicked his tongue, furrowing his brow as he detected the growing number of subtle presences and scents around the cabin.

Click! Click!

He could feel the subtle increase in suspicious presences and smells around the cabin. No homeowner would welcome a bunch of blood-scented hyenas lurking around their house.

Meanwhile, Irene Windler’s tension was rising, and her body was growing stiff.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

‘Did I make a mistake?’

[You can do it, Irene! Just try to win over the instructor!]

‘...This is all your fault.’

She had no choice but to move because of the constant nagging and pleading to get closer to the knight instructor.

Ah, though, she wasn’t exactly lying.

It’s true she missed the dorm application deadline, and she genuinely didn’t like the Duke.

She just regretted not finding a better place to stay.

She wasn’t really a fan of cabins. A soundproof, clean, high-end inn with regular housekeeping would have been much better.

Perhaps because she knew this feeling too well, Irene displayed a hint of regret…

[Sorry, but he’s so amazing! Look at those muscles! No, wait! Even a statue carved from stone wouldn’t compare to that body!]

Her regret was short-lived, and her inner ghost shamelessly expressed its desires.

‘...You pervert.’

[Could I pretend it was an accident and touch those muscles? I just want to feel them!]

‘...You have no shame.’

[Muscles over reputation any day!]

‘...Shut up.’

Irene barely stopped herself from sighing in exasperation at the ghost's insane ramblings in her head.

Still, she couldn’t help but glance at the instructor’s body. He was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showed off the contours of his chest quite well.

Thanks to the ghost, who kept harping on about muscles, her eyes naturally wandered over there.

And after confirming what she saw…

‘Well, I have to admit, it’s easy on the eyes.’

It was a case of great minds thinking alike.

After seven years of hanging around that ghost, their tastes in food and clothes had become almost identical.

…And even in men, apparently.