~Where Hunger Meets Resolve~
Darkness had settled over the Rosenfeld estate like a silent verdict.
Shadows draped across the chamber, long and shapeless, reaching toward the center of the room where a boy lay on the cold stone floor—frail, unmoving, yet still breathing. Moonlight leaked weakly through the frost-painted window, stretching a pale beam across his fallen figure as if the night itself hesitated to touch him.
Kel von Rosenfeld stirred.
His fingers twitched first, brushing against the dusty stones. Then his eyes opened slowly, pupils adjusting to the dimness, confusion clouding them before memory returned like a dagger.
I collapsed…
He lay there for a while, letting the thought settle. The floor's chill pressed into his bones, a quiet reminder of weakness.
After a moment, he forced himself to get up. Not quickly—he couldn't. His arms trembled as he pushed against the ground, his breath ragged, his muscles screaming with the aftermath of overexertion. Slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet.
His legs wobbled.
He took a breath. Another. Then staggered toward the bed, step by slow step.
The bed's edge met his knees. He sank onto it without grace—more falling than sitting—and leaned back against the headboard.
Silence filled the void between heartbeats.
This body… is truly the worst thing imaginable, he thought, staring at his trembling hands. Just breathing with intent reduced me to this. To collapse… from something so small.
His gaze drifted toward the window.
Night had fallen deep. No lanterns lit the corridor outside his room. The manor was asleep.
He hadn't realized how much time had passed.
So… I trained until night?
His stomach growled, a sharp, hollow ache that brought another thought.
I missed dinner.
He stared blankly ahead.
But why didn't Marine come? She always ensures I eat. Even when I refuse, she insists… So why not today?
Irritation flickered—small, caused more by hunger than anger.
Forget it. I'll fetch food myself.
He pushed himself off the bed.
He reached the door.
And as his hand touched the handle—
It opened from the other side.
Marine stood there.
---
The corridor behind her was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a distant sconce. She carried a silver tray covered with a linen cloth. Steam curled around the edges, mingling with the cold air.
"Young Master Kel," she said, surprised to see him standing. "You're awake."
Kel looked at her, expression unreadable for a moment.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, voice tired. Then, before she could answer—"Forget that. Why didn't you bring my dinner earlier?"
Marine lowered her head.
Her hands gripped the tray tightly.
"…I made a mistake, young master," she said softly. Her voice trembled, barely keeping steady. "I… am deeply sorry."
Kel exhaled quietly. He waited.
Marine continued.
"Earlier, I was passing by your room," she said. "And I saw you training…"
She hesitated. Words tangled in her throat.
"You were coughing blood. But you kept going."
Her eyes wavered, recalling the moment.
"I wanted to stop you. I truly did. To rush in and beg you not to push your body further. But then…" She swallowed. "I saw your eyes."
Kel looked at her silently.
"They were… determined," she whispered. "Not reckless. Not lost. Just… unyielding."
"So I stepped back," she continued. "I went to the kitchen and prepared a special dish for you—something light but nurturing. I thought… when you finish, I will feed you personally."
Her grip on the tray tightened.
"But when I returned… you were still training," she said. "So I thought to wait. I placed the dish aside and went to my room just for a moment… just to rest my eyes before returning."
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"But when I woke… it was already night. I realized I had failed my duty. That you were alone, without food, after such effort." Her voice cracked. "I rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve what I had made before… then came directly here."
She bowed deeply.
"I am sorry, young master. I will never allow myself to do this again."
She kept her head low, shoulders trembling.
For a moment, silence separated them.
Kel had been ready to scold—hungry, exhausted, his patience already thin.
But hearing her…
His anger faded before it could even form.
He was silent for a moment, studying her bowed posture, the way her fingers trembled around the tray.
If she had come earlier… she would have seen me collapsed and broken on the floor.
She would have blamed herself even more.
He let out a small sigh.
"Marine," he said finally.
She didn't look up.
He spoke gently.
"It's fine. I'm not angry."
She lifted her head slowly, eyes wide.
"I only wondered where you were. Hunger makes impatience easy." He paused, then added, "I didn't know you made something especially for me."
He faintly smiled.
"Knowing that… I'm glad you came now. So I can eat it while you're here."
Marine blinked.
"Huh…?"
"And," Kel continued, "I'm sure you haven't eaten either."
Marine hesitated. "…It's true, young master. I fell asleep before dinner as well. But please—eat first. I will eat after."
Kel met her eyes.
"Eat with me," he said softly.
Marine stared.
"I insist," he added.
For a moment, she seemed to want to argue.
But then she bowed lightly and nodded.
"…As you wish."
---
They sat at the small table near the window.
Marine uncovered the dish.
A simple herbal broth, steamed vegetables, softened grains seasoned with light spices—nothing extravagant. But the warmth that rose from it felt comforting in a way that no banquet ever offered.
Kel lifted the spoon slowly. His hand trembled subtly, but he controlled it.
Marine watched quietly. She only began eating after he finished half the bowl.
Neither spoke.
The silence felt… peaceful.
The dish was mild, nourishing. And though his body was still aching, the warmth spreading through his stomach felt like a promise.
He finished the meal slowly.
Marine stood, gathering the tray.
She walked toward the door.
Before she left, Kel spoke.
"Marine."
She paused, looking back.
Kel held her eyes with a tired, but sincere expression.
"Before sleeping again," he said gently, "eat properly."
Marine's eyes softened.
She bowed.
"…I will, young master."
She exited quietly.
The door closed.
Kel stood for a moment, watching the empty room.
Then he returned to his bed.
Each step a reminder of exhaustion.
He lay down slowly.
The chamber was once again filled with silence.
But this time…
It did not feel like the silence of weakness.
It was the silence before growth.
Kel closed his eyes.
Tomorrow… i breathe again.
---