Who Could Have Loved the Monster Princess? - Chapter 23
There was no one in the farm other than Ken, and therefore, there were no paths. As I took a leisurely stroll, I noticed someone working in the middle of the rice field. Despite the distance, I could see someone planting slender sprouts evenly and precisely in the flooded rice paddies. Even from afar, the person, who seemed about the size of a fingertip, was undoubtedly Ken.
His shoulders, exposed by rolled-up sleeves, and the firmness of his arms up to his wrists, and the muscular thighs visible under the pants rolled up above his knees—it couldn’t be anyone but him. Enthralled by Ken’s work, I approached with my gaze fixed on him. He was wearing a thin shirt with muslin pants, and his hands and arms, gripping some kind of plant, still had magic stones attached.
The stones emitted a strange light and shimmered with each submersion in water. When Ken noticed me, he glanced up. When his violet eyes met mine, I was reminded of the dream I had. Thoughts of lust-filled eyes and a pleasure-ridden face, as if wanting to devour me, flashed through my mind.
‘Ack! What was I thinking coming here? I should turn back!’
When I turned away, Ken called out.
“Belle…?”
Somehow, his voice sounded just like in the dream. I couldn’t escape. After all, I had come here because I wanted to see Ken. I took a deep breath and turned around again.
‘Well, I won’t avoid seeing Ken altogether. It’s not like I intentionally dreamt of such a thing!’
I didn’t harm Ken in any way. I was the victim here of my own dream!
I calmly said to Ken, “Keep doing what you were doing.”
Perhaps he hadn’t heard me from the distance, so I gestured to him. He refocused on his work.
I settled down and continued with what I was doing, which was essentially ogling Ken… no, watching him work. His straight legs, well-defined muscles, and slender waistline were truly impressive.
I saw his lower body extending from that waistline… I slapped my forehead with my palm. Snap out of it!
Ken was wearing a straw hat, and the sunlight was so strong that the shadows cast on his face were as serene as usual.
‘How can his rows be so precise when he’s planting with such an absent look on his face?’
I marveled at the warrior’s skill in farming.
As I lost track of time while observing, Ken finished arranging the seedlings and approached me. Strangely, the closer he got, the more I felt a growing hunger, so I unconsciously asked, “Have you eaten?”
It was a foolish question. The afternoon tea time had long passed, and it was too early for dinner. After a brief pause, Ken shook his head. It seemed to imply that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Or perhaps he hadn’t even had lunch?
I thought for a moment about which one, and then he asked, “Hungry?”
“No….”
I felt hungry, but I wasn’t hungry because I hadn’t eaten anything yet. It was an inexplicable, insatiable hunger that couldn’t be filled with food.
Ken wiped his hands on a towel hanging around his neck and nodded towards the direction of his cabin.
“If you want to have dinner together, follow me.”
“Is there something tasty?”
“There should be something you’ll like.”
What do I like?
“Peaches?”
“Sorry, but I gave you all of those last time.”
“Why are you apologizing when I’m the one enjoying them?”
I chuckled and playfully tapped Ken’s shoulder. Despite his large build, compared to the imposing presence of my hand, he seemed delicate. Nevertheless, he was robust enough to defeat the Demon King, and my casual tap didn’t faze him.
Being with Ken made it so I didn’t have to be meticulous about every touch. Humans are fragile, and when in contact with others, you have to be careful about adjusting your strength, and maintaining that balance is exhausting.
Not only people but the Staedt mansion was filled with things that I had to handle with caution. I couldn’t even count how many door panels I had broken when I first came to the mansion. For half a year, the places I entered had doors just hanging there. I had to cover at least the bathroom and shower, so I put up curtains.
‘Well, those are still just curtains.’
Setting aside the past of breaking things, I asked Ken again.
“What the thing I would like?”
“I didn’t say you liked it. I said there should be something you’ll like.”
I’m asking what we’re going to eat for dinner, but he keeps avoiding the question.
“Why won’t you tell me what it is?”
When I asked, Ken glanced at me for a moment and then shut his mouth.
‘I guess it’s nothing special.’
Is it potatoes or sweet potatoes?” Ken talked about it as if it were nothing special, or if it wasn’t anything, he remained silent. If he had prepared something amazing, he probably would have casually mentioned it. Something like an amazing demon steak.
‘If it’s something like that, I’m running away.’
It was the same when I first met Ken.
