A traveling tradesman is wandering through town when he spots a noble lady sitting all by herself on a bench, happily munching on a sandwich that looks way too good to ignore. Temptation gets the better of him, and he strolls over to ask if she’d let him have a taste.
To his surprise, the lady smiles warmly and says, “Of course!” She’s always delighted to share her food with others. So, she reaches into her picnic basket and whips him up a sandwich on the spot. The man takes one bite—and boom! His taste buds go on an adventure. It’s unbelievably delicious.
Naturally, he asks her for the recipe. But… he really should’ve asked that before eating it. The lady cheerfully explains that the sandwich was made with Black Horn Wolf meat. The tradesman freezes, mutters a quick “Excuse me,” and promptly throws up beside a tree—because who on earth expects a stranger to hand them a monster meat sandwich for lunch?!
Black Horn Wolves are infamous for their poisonous flesh, so the poor guy assumes the lady must be completely insane. But she’s not stupid—just eccentric. She had carefully processed the meat to make it safe to eat, though no one ever sticks around long enough to appreciate her effort.
A few days later, Melphiera attends a fancy autumn banquet. She’s surrounded by endless platters of juicy, perfectly presented dishes, and she’s basically in culinary heaven. Unfortunately, she’s supposed to be networking, not stuffing her face.
That’s when Mrs. Talbot shows up to remind her why she’s actually there: the banquet is an excuse for nobles to mingle, form alliances, and maybe—just maybe—find a suitable partner. In other words, Mel isn’t supposed to be looking for meat to eat… she’s supposed to be looking for a man to marry.
Mel didn’t even want to come. Her stepmother had threatened to send her off to a monastery if she didn’t get engaged by the end of the year, so this whole affair feels more like a punishment than a party. Her dad, Ghislain Dutor Marchalrayd, isn’t quite as pushy, but even he asked her to at least try to find someone. So, here she is—half-eating, half-pretending to socialize.
Unfortunately, no one wants to get close to her because everyone already knows her infamous nickname: the Monster Meat Muncher. All the fancy nobles politely (and not-so-politely) avoid her table. So, she decides to sneak off to where the knights are hanging out—surely one of them hasn’t heard the rumors yet! If she can charm a knight before he learns about her “unique” eating habits, maybe she’ll land a husband after all.
But before she can even say hello, chaos erupts. Nobles start screaming—monsters are attacking the banquet! Honestly, it’s not that shocking when you think about it; holding a feast full of fresh meat in the middle of a forest was bound to attract something with claws eventually.
Still, Mel isn’t about to stick around for the punchline. She joins the panicked crowd as knights rush to battle the beasts—until she spots an elderly couple nearby struggling to escape. And despite her appetite for weird food, Melphiera has a good heart… so she turns back to help.
She rushes over to the elderly couple and asks if they’re all right. Thankfully, neither of them is hurt—but the old man’s walking stick has snapped, leaving him stuck on the ground like an overturned turtle.
Mel immediately offers a hand, helping him to his feet so they can escape together. The couple gratefully thanks her… until their smiles suddenly freeze. Their eyes go wide in horror.
Mel blinks. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
Then she turns around—and nearly faints. Standing right behind her is a Black Horn Wolf, tall, dark, and very much not friendly. She could still run away unnoticed, but if she does, the old couple will become its next meal.
So, in a truly noble (and slightly suicidal) move, Mel starts screaming and waving her arms to lure the beast’s attention. “Hey! Over here, you oversized furball!” she yells, successfully drawing it away from the couple. She’s proud of herself for saving them—but also realizes there’s no way she’s going to outrun this thing in a corset.
Just as she’s bracing herself for an early and dramatic death, a blur cuts through the chaos. One clean strike—and the Black Horn’s head hits the ground. Mel blinks in disbelief. Standing before her is a tall, handsome knight whose blade still glistens with monster blood.
His name is Aristide Rogier du Galbraith, though most people whisper another title behind his back—the Blood-Mad Duke. The man’s reputation precedes him: ruthless in battle, cold as steel, and allegedly fond of bathing in his enemies’ blood (which, for the record, is probably just gossip).
The crowd, ever so gracious, doesn’t even thank him. Instead, they huddle together and whisper about how terrifying he is—because apparently saving everyone’s lives isn’t enough to fix your PR image.
Mel stands frozen. So this is the infamous Blood-Crazed Duke… The rumors say he’s a monster who kills for fun—but honestly? He’s way too handsome for her to care.
She dusts herself off and introduces herself with her brightest smile. Aristide looks surprised—most women would’ve bolted the moment they recognized him, but here she is, beaming like she just met a celebrity.
Then Mel notices something terrifying: a drop of Black Horn blood sliding dangerously close to Aristide’s lips. She panics and blurts out, “Wait—wipe that off! If you drink that, you’ll be spending the night glued to the toilet! I mean—it’s highly toxic!”
Aristide pauses mid-motion, clearly not used to people yelling about monster-induced diarrhea at him. Mel realizes she might’ve overshared… again.
Still, the Duke keeps his composure. He thanks her for the warning, explains that he’s prepared for such things, and even produces a vial of holy water from his coat—just in case. Then, being the gentleman he secretly is, he offers her a sip too, since she’s covered in monster blood.
Mel politely declines, explaining that she’s fine. “Monster blood washes right out with a bit of warm water and baking soda,” she says casually.
Aristide raises an eyebrow. “That’s… not what I meant,” he replies, noticing that her once-lovely dress is now soaked in red. He was offering to take her somewhere to change—but Mel’s more concerned about her laundry tips than her appearance.
Most nobles would faint on the spot if their fancy clothes so much as brushed against monster blood. But Aristide Rogier du Galbraith can’t help noticing that Melphiera Marchalrayd seems completely unbothered by it.
Curious, he asks, “Doesn’t it bother you at all?”
Without thinking, Mel blurts out, “Oh, not really! I butcher monsters all the time.”
…Cue awkward silence.
Aristide blinks. “You… what?”
Realizing what she’s just confessed, Mel claps her hands over her mouth. “Ah! I mean—uh—strictly for research purposes!” But the damage is done.
To her shock, Aristide doesn’t recoil in disgust. Instead, he bursts out laughing. Apparently, he has heard the rumors about a certain noble lady who eats monsters, but he never imagined they were true. Seeing it confirmed in person is equal parts horrifying and hilarious.
In this world, monsters are not your average livestock. Their bodies are saturated with magical energy, making their flesh toxic to humans. Eating it usually leads to vomiting, fever, or, if you’re really unlucky, explosive diarrhea. That’s why most people toss monster meat straight into the fire pit.
But Mel? She thinks that’s just wasteful. Meat is meat! Why let good protein go to waste just because it glows a little?
Now that her secret’s out, she admits the truth proudly. She even gestures toward the giant Black Horn corpse and says, “Honestly, all I can think about right now is how tasty that meat looks.”
Then it hits her how bad that sounds. “Wait—forget I said that!” she blurts out, cheeks red.
She braces herself for Aristide to quietly step back and say, “Well, good luck with your… diet,” but instead, he’s completely mesmerized by her. There’s something strangely captivating about that bright smile on her blood-splattered face. So much so that the Duke, flustered for once, grabs her hand and starts leading her away before his brain can catch up.
After walking for a bit, Aristide realizes the silence is getting awkward. So, like any confused nobleman who just saved a monster-eating lady, he blurts out, “So… does monster meat actually taste good?”
Mel lights up instantly. Most people either gag or call her insane when she says yes, but this man actually sounds interested. She tells him that Black Horn Wolf meat tastes a lot like beef—just a little tougher and spicier.
Instead of laughing it off, Aristide nods thoughtfully, as if she’s describing a fine wine. For Mel, that’s a first. She excitedly explains that the secret to making monster meat edible is draining all the magic out of it during the bleeding process. Easy-peasy, as long as you don’t mind a little mess.
Intrigued, Aristide asks, “Would you make some for me someday?”
Mel beams. “I’d love to! Though I should warn you, meat from mad beasts like that one back there can be rough on the stomach—even with proper preparation. I’ll need some non-corrupted meat first.”
Aristide simply smiles. “I’ll be waiting.”
But before they part ways, he insists on getting her a clean dress. No amount of baking soda is fixing this level of blood splatter. He leads her to his field pavilion, where one of his subordinates, Kauss Laforgue, comes out to greet him.
Mel politely introduces herself, and Aristide instructs Kauss to fetch her a new dress. While that’s being sorted out, the Duke personally prepares a small tub of hot water so Mel can wash the monster gore off her face—because nothing says “romantic first meeting” quite like blood, beasts, and a portable bath.
Melphiera Marchalrayd insists that Aristide Rogier du Galbraith really doesn’t need to go to so much trouble for her. After all, he’s the one practically marinated in monster blood, while she only got a few splashes.
“Seriously,” she says, “you should clean yourself first!”
Aristide chuckles. “That was the plan,” he replies—and before she can say another word, he casually starts unbuttoning his shirt.
Apparently, this is just another Tuesday for him, because he doesn’t see anything wrong with stripping down in front of a lady. But poor Mel’s brain completely short-circuits. Sure, she’s seen knights training shirtless before, but watching this man—tall, noble, and built like a statue—remove his armor and shirt is a different kind of battlefield entirely.
Her face turns bright red.
Aristide glances over. “Is something wrong?”
Mel fidgets. “N-no, it’s just… I was admiring your incredible physique.”
The Duke pauses, blinking in surprise. He’s never thought much about his own appearance—he just trains hard to keep up with the endless monster hunts—but now he’s oddly self-conscious.
Trying to change the subject, Mel blurts out, “You looked so cool when you beheaded that Black Horn Wolf! Do you think you could teach me how to do that?”
Aristide smiles faintly. “Anyone can learn, technically… but your arms aren’t quite ready for swinging a greatsword yet. You might want to leave the monster slaying to me.”
Then, with a teasing grin, he adds, “Though, if there’s any particular monster you’d like to try tasting, I could go hunt one for you.”
Mel’s eyes sparkle brighter than a magic crystal. There are so many creatures she’s been dying to taste—it’s like offering a food critic an all-you-can-eat buffet of forbidden meats.
Before the conversation can get any stranger, Kauss Laforgue shows up and lightly scolds his commander. “My lord, it’s rather improper to be half-naked in front of a lady.”
Aristide looks genuinely confused. “Half-naked? I only took off my shirt.”
Kauss sighs. “That’s literally the problem, sir.”
A little later, Melphiera changes into the dress Kauss prepared for her—and she’s absolutely in love with it. The fabric, the color, the fit—it’s perfect.
Aristide mentions that he “borrowed” the dress from the Queen a while back. (Don’t ask how.) He adds that it suits Mel beautifully, and his men all exchange knowing looks.
Meanwhile, the Duke is still casually holding the severed head of the Black Horn Wolf like it’s an accessory. Normally, that would be the fastest way to make a noble lady faint—but Mel doesn’t even flinch. The soldiers are stunned. Finally, their intimidating commander has met a woman who’s both fearless and slightly unhinged in the best way possible.
As evening falls, it’s time for Melphiera to return home. Aristide escorts her to her carriage like a true gentleman.
She smiles warmly. “Thank you again for saving me—and for everything else today.”
Aristide gives a small bow. “Next time we meet, I’ll have a special present ready for you.”
Mel’s eyes gleam. “Ooh, if it’s a monster, could you bring it alive? The meat tastes way better that way!”
The Duke blinks. “Alive? That’s… new. But all right—I’ll see what I can do.”
He’s never actually tried capturing a monster alive before, but for this woman? He’s strangely motivated to try.
Before leaving, Mel reaches into her bag and offers him a small pack of Scatsbit Monster Jerky she made herself. “Don’t worry,” she assures him. “I was very thorough with the preparation. Zero chance of food poisoning!”
Aristide trusts her completely. He takes a bite without hesitation—and his eyes widen. It’s delicious. Tender, smoky, and unlike anything he’s ever tasted.
For the first time in years, the Blood-Mad Duke smiles softly. “It’s… really good.”
Mel grins. “Told you so!”
And just like that, one man’s nightmare meal became another man’s guilty pleasure.
Chaos yells at Roger, calling him reckless for eating something without testing it for poison first — especially someone of his authority! But Roger, ever the confident duke, just laughs it off and sticks a piece of the jerky right into Chaos’s mouth to prove how good it tastes. A moment later, even the usually uptight subordinate has to admit it’s delicious.
Grinning, Roger tells Mel he can’t wait to see what other culinary monstrosities she’ll whip up next time they meet. But suddenly, Mel bows her head — not from embarrassment, but to hide the tears welling in her eyes. For the first time in her life, someone actually accepts her monster-eating hobby instead of calling her weird! She quickly wipes her face, says her final goodbye, and rides off, her heart racing at the thought of seeing Roger again.
A few snowy days later, Mel’s carriage finally pulls up to her family estate. To her surprise, her father, Ghislain Dutor Marchalrayd, is already waiting for her at the gate — which is unusual, considering he’s not exactly the “welcome committee” type. She steps out, smiles nervously, and asks if something’s wrong.
At first, she assumes he’s upset that she didn’t secure a fiancé during the banquet, but that’s not it. Ghislain sighs and says, “Mel, I’m just a humble Count… I have no idea how to deal with this situation now that you’ve gotten involved with a Duke!”
Mel blinks in confusion. “Wait… what situation?”
Her father nearly faints as he hands her a sealed letter. “Roger du Galbraith sent a formal marriage proposal! What do you think I should do!?”
Mel’s eyes go wide. She knew she and Roger got along well that night — but marriage!? Already!? Even for noble standards, that’s lightning fast!
Meanwhile, back at Roger’s camp, he’s reporting to none other than Crown Prince Maxim du Liverstohl Mird Langdias — who also happens to be his older brother. Roger gives his status update with military precision, saying his men cleared the area and destroyed the monster’s den.
Maxim, clearly bored with formality, waves his hand and says, “Come on, Roger, you don’t have to sound like you’re addressing a statue. We’re brothers!”
But Roger, ever the dutiful soldier, replies, “Seventeen years ago, you became Crown Prince, and I was adopted into the Galbraith family. I’m your subject now, not your brother.”
Maxim groans. “Ugh, you and your honor nonsense.” He smirks. “Anyway… anything else you’d like to report? Like, oh, I don’t know, a date with a cute redhead?”
Roger nearly chokes on air. “How did you—?!”
Maxim grins slyly. “Please. I’m the Crown Prince. I keep tabs on everything my adorable little brother does.”
As Roger facepalms, Maxim casually rummages through the picnic basket Mel had given Roger, pulls out a piece of jerky, and pops it in his mouth without hesitation. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “Wow, this is actually good! What kind of meat is this?”
And that’s when Roger realizes… he probably should’ve told him what kind of meat it was.
Roger sighs, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness, maybe you shouldn’t be eating mystery meat before finding out what it is.”
But Maxim, halfway through chewing, raises an eyebrow. “Well, now I have to know.”
Roger reluctantly replies, “Mel said it’s jerky made from Scats meat — you know, those little jumpy critters with too many teeth.”
Maxim pauses, then grins. “Wait… monster meat? And it tastes this good? Incredible! Did Melphiera make this herself?”
Roger nods, still unimpressed.
Maxim chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “She might be onto something, you know. The empire’s first gourmet monster chef! But enough about the jerky — let’s talk about you and your lovely Count’s daughter.”
Roger groans. “Brother, please—”
“Come on!” Maxim insists. “It’s not every day a Count’s daughter and a Duke hit it off. Besides, you’ve been on an undefeated L streak with women since forever. Maybe this Mel is your miracle cure!”
Roger decides he’s had enough royal teasing for one day. He stands up stiffly, says there’s nothing more to report, and leaves the tent before his brother can turn his love life into a royal comedy.
Still, as he walks through the cold night air, Roger can’t help but think Maxim might have a point. Someone as brave, kind, and — let’s be honest — charmingly weird as Melphiera doesn’t come along every day. Maybe he should think about his next move carefully.
And he already knows what to do: fulfill his promise. He’ll capture that monster Mel mentioned — alive — and surprise her with it the next time they meet. A romantic gesture with fangs.
Meanwhile, back at the Marchalrayd estate, Mel and her father, Ghislain Dutor Marchalrayd, are staring at the most over-the-top thing they’ve ever seen: a jewel-encrusted letter.
Ghislain explains, “Before you got back, a messenger from the Galbraith family arrived on a Blaze Eagle to deliver this.”
Mel’s eyes light up. “A Blaze Eagle!? I missed it!? …I mean, that’s unfortunate, but go on.”
Her father gives her a look. “Mel, focus. What on earth happened between you and the Duke?”
Mel nervously replies, “Nothing special. I was attacked by a monster, he saved me. That’s all.”
Ghislain blinks. “That’s all? You’d never even met him before the banquet, and now he’s asking for your hand in marriage! Did you feed him some kind of love potion — or worse, your jerky!?”
Mel examines the letter. It’s definitely written by Roger, full of warm lines about how much fun he had with her… right before casually dropping the marriage proposal like it’s dessert after dinner.
Still, she can’t help but wonder if there’s another reason behind it. Maybe he just wants a fellow monster-meat enthusiast in his life?
Her father sighs and says, “You don’t have to accept, Mel. But declining a Duke’s proposal will need one heck of an excuse.”
Later that night, Mel re-reads the letter, smiling. “He must really love monster meat as much as I do. He probably just wants someone to share the experience with.”
As she squeezes the letter fondly, a faint shimmer of magic flickers across the parchment — revealing a hidden message.
It reads:
“I’ll come visit before the end of winter. Specifically, on the 18th.”
Mel freezes.
Her father, peeking over her shoulder, nearly drops his wine glass. “TOMORROW!? HE’S COMING TOMORROW!?”
And just like that, the Marchalrayd mansion descends into full-blown panic mode.
Melphiera Marchalrayd is a mess of flustered nerves. She hadn’t expected to see Aristide Rogier du Galbraith again so soon, and while she still isn’t entirely sure what his intentions are, there’s no point in worrying about that just yet.
The next morning, her stepmother, Celia Marchalrayd, barges into her room, aghast that Melphiera is still lounging in her nightgown.
“Really, Mel! It’s late in the morning! How can you even—?”
Mel quickly improvises. “I was just waiting for you, Celia, so we could pick an outfit together.” In truth, she literally rolled out of bed a minute before Celia arrived.
As far as stepmothers go, Celia isn’t exactly cruel, but she’s certainly no friend. Every decision Mel makes is scrutinized, often with a side of dramatic commentary. Today’s target? Melphiera’s choice of fiancé.
“And what were you thinking? Choosing the Blood-Mad Duke of all people?” Celia huffs, clearly appalled.
Melphiera doesn’t even flinch. She stands silently while her maids help her dress, ignoring every word.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shakes the room. Mel rushes to the window and freezes. A flock of glacial dragons is approaching, scales glinting like frost under the morning sun. Glacial dragons aren’t rare around here, but this is unmistakably Aristide’s and Voy’s signature entrance.
Moments later, Aristide lands gracefully on a dragon beside Mel’s window. He bows slightly and announces, “I’ve come to formally ask for your hand in marriage. And, of course, I brought the gift I promised.”
Melphiera’s heart does a somersault.
Meanwhile, Celia is shrieking. “Close the window! Now!”
“Just a moment!” Mel calls back. “Could you land the dragons over by the northern pasture?”
Once the dragons take off again, Mel buries her face in the curtains, desperately trying to hide how much her cheeks are burning. She’d known Aristide was handsome, but seeing him casually perched on a dragon? Now he looks like the stuff of legends, and her heart is hammering so fast she’s not sure how to breathe.
Celia, meanwhile, has been trying to get Mel’s attention for a while. Finally, she blurts out, “I’m going to lie down. That dragon… made me feel ill.” She shuffles out, muttering under her breath about how Aristide must be insane to ride dragons around like that and how he’s completely unfit to be a duke.
Melphiera slams her hands on her hips. “Celia! I intend to accept Aristide’s proposal. I’d appreciate it if you stopped insulting my future husband!”
Celia leaves in a huff, muttering something about reckless dukes and impossible stepdaughters.
An hour later, Mel meets Aristide out in the northern pasture. She quickly apologizes. “I only found out about your visit when I read your letter yesterday… I didn’t have time to prepare anything for you.”
Aristide smiles, unbothered. “You needn’t apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me — for showing up so abruptly and startling the Countess of Marchalrayd.”
Melphiera can’t help but giggle. Somehow, even his teasing feels charming today.
Chaos Laforgue pipes up, grinning. “You know, the only reason we got here so quickly is because Aristide Rogier du Galbraith couldn’t wait to see you again!”
Aristide groans, waving him off. “Stop spouting nonsense, Chaos.”
Ignoring his sidekick, he turns to Melphiera Marchalrayd. “So… where should I drop off your gift?”
He gestures toward a cage draped in a cloth. Melphiera’s eyes widen. He really did capture the monster for me! Her cheeks warm with a mix of excitement and guilt. She knows she asked for it, but… maybe she made him go a little out of his way.
Noticing her distracted expression, Aristide raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
Melphiera looks up, her eyes sparkling. “No… thank you. Truly, thank you for doing all this.” She hesitates, then asks shyly, “Would it be okay if I took a little peek inside?”
Aristide nods, leading her to the cage.
She peers inside — and at first sees nothing. “Did you… kill it already?” she asks, worried.
With a sly grin, Aristide pulls the cloth away. The Moodle inside is very much alive, just snoozing peacefully. And not just any Moodle — it’s a golden-furred royal Moodle, a rare gem among its kind.
For context, Moodles are herbivorous monsters, similar to cows. Most have plain white fur, but royal Moodles develop a golden coat as they mature, making them incredibly valuable for luxurious garments like coats and scarves. Their meat is usually discarded, which Melphiera thinks is a total waste. She’s never had the chance to taste one before, but since it only feeds on fruits and mushrooms, she predicts it’ll be delicious.
She looks up at Aristide with wide, grateful eyes. “Are you sure you want to give me something this valuable?”
Aristide shrugs nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to capture it alive if I didn’t intend to give it to you.”
Melphiera beams, unable to contain her joy. She’s free to prepare it however she pleases — and that makes her practically giddy. Watching her like this, Aristide flushes slightly, clearly flustered. Chaos and the others wisely keep their distance, letting him have his moment.
A short while later, Ghislain Dutor Marchalrayd, Melphiera’s father, arrives to formally greet Aristide. He thanks him for traveling all this way.
Aristide bows politely. “Apologies for arriving so suddenly. I simply wanted a response to my proposal before winter set in.”
Melphiera almost forgets everything else in her excitement over the royal Moodle. Shaking herself back to reality, she asks her father for permission to let Aristide’s dragons hunt in the mountains. Ghislain frowns, puzzled. “I thought… that Moodle over there was supposed to be dragon food?”
Melphiera giggles, shaking her head. “Nope. That one’s mine.”
Melphiera Marchalrayd quickly clarifies, “Actually, the Moodle is for me.”
Her father, Ghislain Dutor Marchalrayd, blinks in surprise. “Wait… Roger knew about your… hobby?”
“Not only that,” Melphiera says with a small grin, “he went out of his way so he could try some of my monster cooking.”
Then, she takes a deep breath and asks for something even bolder. “Father… may I have permission to open a research facility so I can start preparing the Moodle as soon as possible?”
Ghislain frowns in worry. “You know… seeing you butcher a monster might be a bit off-putting to Aristide—”
Aristide Rogier du Galbraith interrupts with a casual shrug. “I understand her entirely. I’ve also heard the nasty rumors about her, and frankly… I’m proposing despite them.”
Ghislain’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Well, that’s the best news I’ve had all day! He quickly gestures for Aristide to make himself at home.
But Aristide holds up a hand. “Before that, we should deal with the gift I brought. It’s still alive.”
Ghislain nearly chokes. “You brought a living Moodle here?!”
Melphiera can’t help but grin. “I asked him to capture it alive.”
Aristide smiles, clearly amused. “And while we’re at it, I’d like to watch the preparation process.”
“Very well,” Ghislain says, gesturing toward the research facility. “Show him to your lab.”
Soon, Aristide and his men take off on the dragons, with Melphiera clinging on and squealing a little. Riding a dragon has always been on my bucket list! she thinks, heart pounding with excitement.
As the research facility comes into view, Melphiera points it out to Aristide, but he senses a slight hesitation in her voice. “Something wrong?” he asks.
“Just… nervous about riding a dragon for the first time,” she says, though the truth is more complicated. She’s thrilled that Aristide doesn’t mind her eating monster meat—but she won’t know if he’s truly okay with it until he sees her actually preparing it.
Once they land, Aristide notices an intricate magic circle etched into the floor. “What’s this?” he asks.
“This?” Melphiera replies with a smile. “It was originally my mother’s creation, but I’ve made some improvements. I use it to prepare monster meat.”
Aristide nods, impressed. “Genius. But… how do you manage to drain all the magic from a monster corpse using just this circle?”
Melphiera smirks. “There’s one more tool.” She slips into the storage shed and emerges with a quartz flask. “I use this to draw out the beast’s mana and blood at the same time. It may look ordinary now, but once I start the process and apply my magic, it becomes quite… colorful.”
Aristide leans in, clearly impressed. “Your craftsmanship is incredible.”
With a small blush, Melphiera adds, “Now that I’ve shown you how it works… I’d like to ask you a favor.”
Melphiera Marchalrayd admits sheepishly, “I know this might sound strange… but I want to see Aristide Rogier du Galbraith’s sword in action again — to behead a monster properly.”
A little while later, Melphiera announces she’s ready to begin. But cleaning the Moodle by herself is going to take forever. She glances at Aristide. “Could I get a little help?”
With a simple wave of his hand, his subordinates spring into action. Knights are trained to harvest valuable materials from monsters efficiently, and they make short work of it. Within minutes, the Moodle has been completely sheared. Melphiera can’t stop marveling at how fluffy the golden fur is. She giggles. “It’s like a monster-sized cloud!”
But fluff aside, there’s work to be done. Aristide rolls up his sleeves and removes his jacket. “Ready when you are,” he says, eyes glinting.
Melphiera whispers a little prayer for the Moodle and promises not to waste a single morsel of meat. She activates the magic circle and gives Aristide the signal. In one flawless motion, he swings his sword, and the Moodle’s head is severed from its body. His strike is so fast and precise that Melphiera can barely follow it.
Now begins the next step: extracting the blood and magic. Melphiera holds the quartz flask and chants the incantation, causing the blood to flow from the carcass into the flask. But working with such a large beast is more challenging than she expected. The flask starts to crack as it fills beyond capacity, and panic sets in.
Fortunately, Aristide is right beside her. “Problem?” he asks calmly.
“Yes! The flask can’t hold all the magical blood!” she exclaims.
Without missing a beat, Aristide swaps in a replacement flask. Thanks to his help, Melphiera completes the spell, successfully draining the Moodle of all its blood and mana.
Aristide steps back, impressed. “It still looks so big. I thought removing all the blood would shrink it.”
Melphiera grins. “The spell targets only the monster’s blood, leaving all other moisture intact. Preserves the flavor.”
“Clever,” Aristide remarks. “How did you develop this spell?”
She takes a deep breath and explains. “Seventeen years ago, this region suffered a terrible famine. Hundreds had already died, because the land was poor and the soil nearly infertile. My mother began researching ways to utilize the abundant monster population here. The process is still complicated, but if I can simplify it, anyone could turn monsters from dangerous nuisances into valuable food sources.”
She pauses, cheeks pink. “Not that I don’t have fun sampling rare monsters every now and then.”
Aristide chuckles. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”
Aristide Rogier du Galbraith can tell that Melphiera Marchalrayd’s goal is noble, but he has one more question. Holding up the flask of magic blood, he asks, “So… what exactly do you plan to do with this?”
Melphiera shrugs. “I just use the magic energy to start fires and power the lights. This much should last about two months before I need a refill.”
Aristide blinks in surprise. “That’s it?”
“Is there… another way to use it?” she asks, genuinely curious.
At that, Aristide bursts out laughing. “Oh, Melphiera, you have no idea what you’ve done!”
He explains that she has achieved something that even royal court mages have struggled to accomplish for years: extracting and storing pure magic essence in a bottle. In the wrong hands, this could be used to make weapons of mass destruction.
Melphiera gasps. “Wha—bombs?”
“Relax,” Aristide says with a grin. “I know you’d never harm anyone. I was just worried for a second that the rumors about you drinking the blood were true. With hair that bewitching, I might’ve assumed you were a vampire!”
Melphiera’s cheeks turn crimson. She doesn’t know what to say, so, without thinking, she blurts out how dazzling Aristide looked when he rode in on his dragon earlier.
Cue mutual embarrassment. Both stand there, frozen, unsure what to do. Chaos watches, facepalming. “This is… hard to watch,” he mutters. Finally, he interjects. “You two still have work to do,” forcing them to awkwardly shuffle away.
A little later, Melphiera approaches Aristide with a hunting permit. The Moodle’s organs had already been fed to his dragons, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy them. Aristide would need to catch a few more monsters before the dragons got picky.
Just then, Aristide’s stomach growls loudly, giving away his own hunger. Even though they were technically supposed to wait until dinnertime, Melphiera suggests, “Why not try a few pieces now?”
They take a few cuts of meat, preparing to cook, when Aristide suddenly remembers something. He pulls out a slice mill and hands it to Melphiera. She tastes a small piece and is astonished. The combination of flavors is incredible.
“Swiped this from my head chef before I left home,” Aristide says with a mischievous grin. “A blend of spices that goes perfectly with meat.”
They prepare two skewers and stand there practically drooling, anticipation making their stomachs growl louder. Just then, Chaos sneaks up behind them. “And what do you two think you’re doing?” he demands, arms crossed.
Aristide tries to cover it up. “Nothing going on here, Chaos, really!”
But Chaos isn’t buying it. He can clearly smell the delicious aroma wafting over from the cooking area. There’s no hiding it now.
Aristide suddenly remembers the hunting permit he received earlier. He pulls it out and tries to get Chaos to leave by ordering him to fetch some monsters for the dragons.
“Fine,” Chaos says, “but you’re coming with me. You’re the best fighter we have, after all.”
Aristide groans, “But I’m busy here with Melphiera—”
“Busy?!” Chaos interrupts. “What kind of commander sneaks himself a snack while his team is starving?”
Faced with guilt-tripping of legendary proportions, Aristide caves. “Fine, I’ll make a skewer for you too.”
But Chaos isn’t done. “The whole team is right here, by the way.”
And so, Aristide ends up making a skewer for each of his knights.
A few minutes later, the skewers are ready. But Chaos stops Aristide from eating. “Not yet! Each bite must be taste-tested to ensure it’s not poisoned!”
Being the obedient guinea pig he is, Chaos takes the first bite. He expected good meat, but the flavor exceeds even his imagination. “This… doesn’t just taste okay—it practically melts in my mouth!”
Belf grins, but Aristide’s hunger grows even stronger at the praise. “Just hurry up and declare it safe to eat!”
Chaos, always a tease, drags it out. “Well, we could wait a few hours to make sure the magic in it won’t cause stomach trouble…”
Neither Aristide nor his knights are willing to wait that long. Melphiera, losing patience, declares, “Fine. But if anyone gets sick, I’ll personally whip up a cure. Consider that insurance!”
Satisfied, everyone grabs a skewer and digs in. The reaction is unanimous: heavenly. Even Melphiera beams, thrilled that this is the highest-quality monster meat she has ever tasted.
Aristide walks over to her. “You’re a genius! I’ve never had monster meat taste this good.”
Melphiera, ever modest, says, “I only managed it because of my mother’s research.”
Aristide waves that off. “Don’t be modest. I don’t know anyone else who could pull this off.”
His men nod in agreement. They’ve eaten monster meat before, only when supplies ran out on missions, and it always tasted terrible because they didn’t know proper preparation. Now, they unanimously declare Melphiera a culinary genius.
More skewers are prepared, and Aristide is about to snag a third one when Melphiera calls out, “Aristide!”
He thinks she’s going to scold him for eating too much before dinner. “I can finish later—”
But that’s not what she wants. She informs him, “I’m heading back into the lab. You should come with me.”
Roger follows Melphiera inside, and she leads him to an old room filled with stacks of her research materials. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess in here,” she says apologetically.
Roger waves his hand. “It’s normal for research labs to be a little chaotic. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me.”
He glances around and spots a few Scatsbit spikes lying on a table. “What are these for?” he asks.
Melphiera explains, “I sometimes use these to set traps for monsters I catch.”
Roger’s curiosity spikes. He’d been wondering how she managed to get monsters to test her techniques on, and now he realizes she even knows how to make traps.
“I don’t always use traps,” she continues. “Sometimes the knights help me, or I get local hunters involved, but most of the time, I hunt alone.”
Roger is surprised. “People here don’t approve of your research, do they?”
Melphiera sighs. “You’re right. People naturally hate the idea of eating monster meat. Even when my mother saved countless lives during the famine by preparing monsters to be edible, those who survived refused to acknowledge it. They still believe it’s taboo.”
Roger frowns. “You must be remarkably stout to keep going despite all that scorn.”
Melphiera shrugs, though a hint of sadness flickers in her eyes. “It does get to me sometimes.”
Roger leans closer, gently asking, “Then why continue the research if no one will accept it?”
She turns to him, her expression serious. “Do you remember the incident from 17 years ago?”
Roger nods. “I could never forget it. It’s the reason I was adopted into the Galbrith family.”
Melphiera hesitates, and Roger senses it will be difficult for her to speak. He takes her hand and guides her to the sofa, so she doesn’t have to meet his eyes while telling her story.
He squeezes her hand gently. “I came here to ask for your hand in marriage, and I did my homework on your family. I understand the controversy surrounding your research. But I don’t want you to give up on it. If you marry me, with the resources of the Galbrith family, you’ll be able to continue your work without interference.”
Melphiera’s eyes widen slightly at his words. For the first time, she feels like someone truly sees the value in her work—and believes in her.
Melphiera tenses slightly. “If you want to learn about my research,” she says, “I’d be more than happy to teach you everything I know. There’s no need to force yourself to marry me.”
But Roger shakes his head gently. “No, that’s not what I meant at all,” he says, his tone soft but unwavering. “I don’t want to learn about your research. I want to learn about you.”
He lets a small pause hang in the air, as if gathering courage. “I know I’m not exactly the ideal partner—people know me as the Blood Mad Duke—but I want to know what you think of me.”
He looks at her expectantly, but Melphiera can’t find her voice. Her mind is reeling. All this time, she had convinced herself that Roger’s interest in her was solely because of her monster meat research. The realization that he might actually like her… for her… leaves her completely stunned.
