Breeding Season - Chapter 72
‘Including Pamilla, that makes three maids. Larisa can serve as a lady-in-waiting.’
Small fish swam in clusters, pretending to be larger than they were.
It was an absurd sight, but in the royal palace, survival sometimes required such tactics.
“Then… Larisa. Will you help me dress? For tonight’s banquet.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Larisa lowered her head quietly.
Seated before the dressing table, Siren turned to Pamilla with a request.
“Pamilla, could you show the other two what needs to be done and divide the tasks among yourselves?”
“Hmph. I could do it all by myself, you know.”
“I know. But isn’t it more enjoyable when the household grows?”
Pamilla pouted adorably.
Still, she wasn’t one to disobey, so Siren simply smiled and let her be.
“Come on, then. I don’t know what use you’ll be since you can’t even handle raksha, but I’m sure you can manage something. Hmph.”
With her ears and tail expertly concealed, Pamilla grumbled as she led the two maids away.
Larisa picked up a comb and began brushing Siren’s hair. True to her status as the daughter of a trading company head, the dresses and accessories she selected were remarkably refined, even in Siren’s eyes.
“Is it finished?”
At last, evening arrived.
As the sun set and the desert was shrouded in cool twilight—
Yasamin, clad in a deep green robe, entered.
Siren rose amid the flickering candlelight, stepping toward her husband, one foot at a time.
The first banquet was about to begin.
A banquet in the desert was entirely different from one in Wilkeron.
Exotic music, unlike anything she had ever heard before, resonated in all directions. Countless people laughed and chatted, and there was no semblance of order anywhere.
As night fell, Siren sat beside Yasamin, her gaze clouded as she took in the scene unfolding before her.
She had heard about it in passing… but so this was how it truly was.
Hearing a description and witnessing it firsthand were entirely different experiences.
“Those two entered together as a married couple… yet they each have a diet?”
[*Diet (디엣): A local cultural term, possibly referring to a partner or consort.]
“That’s right.”
“And in front of their spouses, they… they kiss their diets?”
“Yes, it’s quite common.”
Her understanding of norms was crumbling. Feeling lightheaded, Siren reached for a drink.
She simply could not bear to watch this with a clear mind.
“To the dignified eyes of Wilkeron, this must seem barbaric.”
“…….”
“But to the people here, this is natural. It’s a matter of survival.”
Was this a difference in culture?
As Siren blankly observed a man pouring an entire jug of alcohol over his head, she spotted Daphne wearing the same dazed expression as herself.
Beside her, Nicoletta looked utterly aghast.
‘Until now, I was under Yasamin’s protection.’
She had known that, but this moment reinforced the realization.
Just how safe the path was under the shelter of the strong.
Someone’s diet. At the very least, if they couldn’t even become wives, Nicoletta and Daphne… well. Their future in this place did not seem bright.
“The meaning of husband and wife here is weak, as is the bond. What a diet signifies… Elthan made sure to educate them on all of it. He even took them to the warriors’ training grounds and had them observe half-clothed bodies.”
Reclining against the throne, Yasamin downed a goblet of honeyed wine, watching the chaotic scene unfold before them.
Everyone was too preoccupied with feasting and drinking their fill for the first time in a long while.
Farming was impossible, and even the coastline was plagued by the infected.
It was Yasamin who had stepped forward to bring order to the south.
He had forced the heads of each clan to kneel, gathered warriors, trained them, and made them useful.
His next step had been stockpiling food.
Smoking fish, catching crabs, harvesting seaweed—
Drying, steaming, roasting, pickling, and preserving them.
Sailing to foreign lands to barter, sometimes even raiding Wilkeron’s bordering territories.
Only after all this effort had they reached the point where starvation was merely a minor inconvenience.
The people of the royal palace were slightly better off, but even they could not eat to their heart’s content.
Only during banquets like this.
This was also a way for the southerners to vent their long-held frustrations.
“In any case, when the Kalik clan ascends to Wilkeron and takes over the castle, southern culture will spread. The women who were brought here first, in a way, were given a chance to adapt. They also had the first opportunity to choose the strongest warriors.”
Half of Yasamin’s languid explanation made sense to Siren.
The other half, she could not quite accept.
A conqueror and the conquered could never stand in the same place.
‘Ah, that person…’
Just then, the banquet hall doors opened, and someone entered belatedly.
Siren recognized her, and a flicker of interest lit up her blue eyes.
The woman who had raised her circlet ever so slightly.
She seemed neither a noble nor a maid… How had she ended up here?
“Who are you staring at?”
“That person.”
“Ah. If you’re curious, why not go talk to her?”
Through… that mess?
Just on the way to the door, at least five pairs of people were already straddling each other, locked in passionate embraces.
Siren had no confidence to ask them to move aside.
“I… I’ll summon her separately tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You won’t have the strength for that.”
At that moment, Yasamin took another sip of wine, trailing off in a most suggestive manner.
