RMCOM 5

Chapter 5

“Thank you.”

Ben set his spoon down after polishing off the soup piled high in his bowl.

She had given him the largest plate in the house, yet it had been emptied in no time.
In contrast, the bowl in front of Chersinia was still more than half full, the soup gently sloshing. She wasn’t particularly hungry, having eaten her fill that morning.

Ben had even cleaned up the baguette she’d sliced for him, but judging by the way he smacked his lips regretfully, it still didn’t seem like enough.

Chersinia slid four pieces of her own baguette toward him.

“Oh, it’s okay.”

He said that, yet his eyes refused to leave the bread.

Looks like he really hasn’t eaten properly before.

“I’m full. And you’re not supposed to waste food, so help me out.”

Chersinia was gradually learning things about Ben.

One of them was that honesty didn’t work on him.

You still look hungry, so eat more.
If she said that, he would never touch it.

It had to sound like: I don’t need it anymore. Whether you eat it or throw it away doesn’t matter.

Only then would he accept it.

It was probably a habit ingrained during his time as a slave—never being allowed to ask for what was his.

Ben glanced back and forth between the baguette and Chersinia, gauging her expression.

She nodded, reassuring him that it was fine.

“Then… thank you.”

He reached out cautiously and picked up the bread.

Chersinia stood up.

She clearly remembered there still being soup left in the pot earlier. Bread alone wouldn’t be enough—she should give him more soup too.

She picked up his empty bowl and headed for the pot, which was still letting off steam.

Less than half of the morning’s soup remained.

Well, as long as he eats well.

In this weather, it would go bad by tomorrow anyway, so it was better this way.

She scraped the pot thoroughly with the ladle until it was nearly bare, then set the refilled bowl in front of Ben.

“Ah… thank you…”

His voice trembled faintly as he spoke.

Ben stared at the steaming soup placed before him.

His eyes burned, as if tears might spill over at any moment.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten a warm meal like this.

The food he’d occasionally been given before was nothing more than hard, stale bread.
Even then, there was never enough, and he was always hungry no matter how much he ate.

Out in the open with no roof, when it rained he ate bread soaked with rainwater; when it snowed, he ate bread with snow as his side dish.

No matter how tightly he clutched his aching, empty stomach, wanting more food was never allowed.

Ben hurriedly scooped up the soup and brought it to his mouth.

If he didn’t put food in his mouth right now, it felt like he might burst into tears.

The warmth of the cozy cabin and the food that seemed to melt even his heart made his eyes sting.

“Eat slowly.”

Chersinia sat back down across from him.

The soup, reheated, was probably saltier than before, yet he didn’t complain once as he emptied the bowl along with the bread.

Just watching him eat made her understand what people meant when they said they felt full just by looking.

“I’m sorry… I’m eating too much…”

Ben spoke with his head lowered, not wanting her to see the moisture gathering in his eyes.

“If we didn’t finish it today, it would’ve gone to waste anyway.”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

It was true—and besides, she didn’t want him worrying. After all, even dogs didn’t bother people while they ate.

And for the first time since possessing Chersinia’s body, she felt a small, quiet happiness at not eating alone.

The warm breakfast finally came to an end only after Ben had eaten two full bowls of soup and eight pieces of baguette.

Three days after Ben came to live with her.

Crash.

“I–I’m sorry!”

As always, the sound of a dish breaking greeted Chersinia before noon.

She stepped into the kitchen.

“I told you to just leave it.”

She wasn’t even angry anymore.

So many dishes had been broken already.

In just three days, Ben had shattered four plates.

Including this one, that made five.

Hah…

She let out a deep sigh internally.

Thanks to Ben, the household goods weren’t surviving intact.

“I just wanted to help…”

“Staying still is helping.”

She understood his intentions.

The problem was that everything he touched broke.

Chersinia grabbed the dustpan and broom from under the window and headed into the kitchen.

“I–I’ll do it!”

Startled, Ben rushed forward. She handed him the cleaning tools without resistance.

If she stopped him from even cleaning, he’d spend the entire day watching her nervously.

Ben grew extremely anxious when he had nothing to do.

He wasn’t a slave used in noble households.

He had been exploited on construction sites, repairing and building the luxurious spaces of nobles.

Slaves owned by nobles received no wages.

Worse, many couldn’t even eat properly and collapsed from malnutrition.

At construction sites, they were called hey, you, that bastard, this bastard—there was no need for names, so none were given.

If they moved even a little slowly, they were beaten. When construction ended and their labor was no longer needed, they were sold back to the slave market.

Eating quickly was a habit from those days.

The rare meals provided had to be eaten the moment they were given.

So he’d learned to eat as much as possible whenever food was available.

“Ah—”

At his short groan, Chersinia turned her head.

She’d only given him the broom to sweep up the shards, yet he was clutching a bleeding finger.

“What—are you okay?”

All he had to do was sweep and collect. How did he manage to cut his finger?

He really was hopeless.

Thinking that, she still approached him with concern.

“I–I’m sorry…”

Ben flusteredly hid his bleeding hand behind his back.

She wished she could go just one day without hearing him apologize.

Chersinia pressed her throbbing temple.

“You’re the one hurt. Why are you apologizing?”

Apologizing was second nature to him.

No matter how many times she told him he didn’t need to, the habit wouldn’t fade.

She took the broom from his hand.

If she let him continue, the other hand would end up bleeding too.

“Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

“N–No, Chersinia, I—!”

“Ben. I said I’ll do it.”

“Yes… sorry.”

Ben lowered his head and stepped back.

Chersinia swept up the scattered shards.

Worried he might step on a piece he’d missed, she carefully swept the floor one more time.

His enthusiasm always got the better of him—whenever he tried to help, something inevitably went wrong.

She appreciated the thought, but wherever he went, crashing and shattering sounds followed.

Hands of misfortune suited him perfectly.

She dumped the shards into the trash.

As she moved to put the cleaning tools away, Ben trailed after her closely.

“Go sit down. I’ll put some medicine on it.”

“Yes…”

His shoulders slumped as he sat on the chair at the table.

She immediately brought the medicine box and sat in front of him.

“Give me your hand.”

Ben cautiously held out the hand he’d been hiding.

Dark red blood welled along a long cut on his index finger.

She took his hand to treat it.

Ben flinched, his body trembling.

Since he startled easily, Chersinia paid it no mind and applied disinfectant.

“Mm… it stings, right?”

Watching the liquid seep into the open skin, she didn’t know why she felt a sting as well.

She frowned deeply as she cleaned the wound.

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry, Chersinia…”

Ben quietly watched her tend to his injury.

The skin beneath her lashes was so pale it seemed almost translucent.
Her red lips, slightly parted in concentration, looked soft and full.
Her long crimson hair slipped through her fingers, silky and smooth.

She was beautiful—anyone could see that.

Maybe that was why he always made mistakes around her.

He wanted to do well.
He wanted to show her only his best side.
Yet whenever he stood near her, he couldn’t stop himself from growing tense.

Hah…

Ben let out a silent sigh.

He wanted to be even a little helpful to her, but nothing ever went the way he hoped.

“Once I put the medicine on, we’re done.”

Having finished disinfecting, Chersinia gently applied the healing ointment.

At her touch, so light it made even his heart tickle, Ben’s eyelashes fluttered.

Watching her focus entirely on his injury made his chest feel warm and soft.

It was the first time in his life.

The first time someone worried over his wounds as if they were their own.

Faced with this unfamiliar warmth, Ben had to steady his surging emotions several times a day.

Her hands were always warm.

Her gaze, her touch—everything about her was warm, enough to make him want to cry.

She was like a ray of sunlight in a life filled with nothing but despair.

Chersinia blew softly on the wound to help the medicine settle.

As her breath brushed his skin, a sharp sensation shot through Ben’s fingertips, and his captured hand twitched.

“Why? Does it hurt?”

“N–No. It’s nothing.”

He waved his free hand dismissively.

But contrary to his words, heat surged through his body, blood rushing rapidly below.

Confused by the unfamiliar sensation, Ben’s expression twisted slightly.

Chersinia, seeing his flushed cheeks, assumed it was simply because the wound stung and didn’t think much of it.

She finished the treatment and neatly applied a bandage.

“Thank you. Really.”

Ben picked up the used medicine box and hurried toward the drawer.

He needed a moment to cool down.

Chersinia stared at his retreating, awkward steps as he fled almost as if running away.

Something’s changed…