The Beast of the Albard Mansion - Chapter 10
In my rush to feed Desi eight portions, I forcefully shoved a potato into his mouth.
“Ugh!”
“Eat! Eat the meat too!”
Desi, with his sharp teeth, easily chewed through the raw potato and meat. As he ate the raw meat, he became strangely excited, devouring it with a frenzied intensity, growling as he ate.
However, when I gave him a raw pumpkin, he spat it out with a ptooey. His eyes, filled with confusion and betrayal, looked at me as if asking, “Why are you doing this to me? Have you gone mad?”
“This is all for you, Desi. Just eat it.”
Desi kept his mouth shut, his face still stained with a look of betrayal.
“If you don’t eat a lot, you might starve to death!”
“Why would I die?”
“My brother said so. He said the stronger you are, the more you need to eat. I can eat like a bird and not be hungry, but what about you? Are you full with what you eat now?”
Desi seemed to ponder my words.
“Huh? Can you be full just eating rye porridge and the pieces of bread I bring you?”
“No.”
“See! You’re hungry, right?”
“I’m hungry every day. My stomach rumbles like thunder. I feel so hungry I want to eat everything I see.”
For a moment, Desi’s eyes sharpened, reminding me of the first day I met him. I felt a tension, fearing he might devour me, but quickly regained my composure.
“Yeah. So, you need to eat a lot. If you don’t eat enough, you’ll become weak and eventually starve to death.”
“…”
“So, come on, eat. If you don’t want to die.”
Desi seemed to agree and began shoving the food I brought into his mouth. He quickly devoured the raw meat, blood dripping from it, and then crunched down on the potatoes.
“Why aren’t you eating the pumpkins?”
“I hate pumpkins.”
“Being a picky eater is bad.”
Desi reluctantly put a piece of pumpkin in his mouth, made a face, and then threw it against the wall, smashing it to pieces with a loud thud.
“I hate pumpkins.”
“…Fine, I get it.”
Desi really hated pumpkins. Even though being picky is bad, I decided to understand since I also detested the carrots floating in my soup.
“How do you feel now? Are you full?”
Desi had eaten two large chunks of raw meat, a block of cheese, and six potatoes. He licked his lips and nodded slightly, his expression somewhat softened.
“A little.”
A little? My mouth fell open. Even after eating so much, he wasn’t fully satisfied? Feeding Desi would certainly be a challenge. I began to worry, voicing my concerns out loud.
“This is a real problem.”
“What is?”
“To keep you from starving, I need to bring food every day. It’s too heavy, and it’s difficult.”
The enormous burden weighed heavily on my chest. Desi was a precious friend. I couldn’t let my precious friend starve. But the thought of doing this every day was daunting. It felt like sitting in front of a desk piled with homework. I lowered my head and sighed deeply.
“Desi, how can I feed you all by myself?”
“Then I’ll help.”
Desi stood up. Yesterday, the sound of clanking chains would have been loud, but not today. Now, only his ankles were shackled.
“How? You’re tied up.”
“Steal the key.”
“The key?”
“Yeah. If you unlock the chains, I can help you carry the food.”
I stared blankly at Desi’s ankles. The idea of Desi being able to move freely had never crossed my mind.
Without the chains binding him, Desi could leave this place, breathe fresh air, run in the fields, and even steal food from the kitchen.
“Who has the key?”
I whispered to Desi. However, if I had to sneak into my father’s study or room to steal it, I might just give up. Approaching my father was too frightening.
“The stable boy with the pug nose and bright eyes. I saw him tie me up and put the key on his left waist.”
“Hawk?”
“I think that’s his name.”
Hawk was the stable boy. He fed the horses daily, cared for them to ensure they didn’t get sick, and cleaned up their dung. The horses needed meticulous care, but Hawk always did his work sloppily. Since a horse was worth more than Hawk’s life, he would get whipped by the chief attendant if a horse fell ill.
“If Hawk has it, I can manage.”
I felt a surge of confidence. Hawk was seen as a pushover by everyone.
He was boastful except in front of the chief attendant, where he stammered. He also stammered sometimes in front of me, pleading not to talk to him. He feared the chief attendant or master would punish him for conversing with someone of my status. Hawk had begged me so much that I had promised not to talk to him, suppressing my initial irritation.
