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It was hard to describe something I felt.

Should I say it was unsettling?

First of all, it was undoubtedly good news that Catherine’s curse could be lifted.

However, it wasn’t just a simple piece of good news.

To break the curse, we had to find the god who had indirectly cursed Catherine. But that god was already said to be dead.

So, it would be easy to feel disheartened, yet, contrary to Karem’s expectations, Catherine did not feel disheartened.

Curiosity.

When faced with impossibility, a person can be divided into three types.

They either give up and despair,

compliance and adaptation, or

challenge the impossible with a sense of defiance.

Catherine belonged to the third type.

It was only natural.

Karem didn’t know, but in the end, Catherine succeeded in interpreting a tiny part of the divine object of the god of magic.

Because of that, although she was cursed by the remaining divine power, she achieved becoming a sage at the youngest age in history without losing her fruits of labor.

What about the curse of drought?

Despite being a god’s curse, rather than succumb to it, she alone, through long efforts without anyone’s help, managed to suppress and weaken it.

Of course, the catalyst for that was her realizing her cringy middle school phase and retiring in embarrassment—a personal history she chose to keep secret.

Moreover, even though the probability was slim, soon enough she could consult the god, so neither Catherine, Karem, nor Mary felt worried.

Mary actually wished that Catherine’s curse wouldn’t get lifted, but nonetheless.

While Karem pondered what Catherine had kept a secret, he decided to focus on the immediate situation in front of him.

It was rude to think of anything else while invited to tea time.

Especially since the one who invited him was right in front, waiting for a response.

However, instead of replying, Karem asked,

“There’s no option to decline, right?”

“I figured you would say that, so a baron—huh? What did you just say?”

“Um… could I decline?”

And then Karem committed an even greater rudeness than thinking of other matters in front of the host.

Elizabeth almost thought she misheard because she hadn’t eaten meat in a while, so she asked again.

“Are you really declining the barony?”

“Uh, yes.”

Karem was serious.

As serious as Alicia, who was in front of food.

At that moment, Godwin and William, who both had been mixing Alraune’s Tear with milk and sugar, simultaneously stared at Karem as if to say, “What kind of person is this?”

Declining land? In this world?

What was this? Even a deeply philosophical priest might contemplate such a thought.

Then, it suddenly occurred to the three members of the Felwinter family seated that Karem, who was mindlessly snacking on sweets, had a history of declining headhunting offers presented directly by the vault guardian of the God of Adobice.

“Then, do you have an alternative request in mind?”

“Um, well…”

“Just so you know, the option of refusal doesn’t exist.”

With a thud, Elizabeth set down her cup and cut a piece of what looked like a dry doughnut, spreading butter on it. Wait, butter? Didn’t she say she couldn’t eat butter?

William, looking rather annoyed, questioned Karem bluntly.

“Hey, Karem. Just accept the land.”

“That’s a bit too difficult to accept.”

Why? Why was he so averse that he even resorted to honorifics?

Under the gaze of three pairs of eyes, Karem pondered how he ended up receiving an invitation to Elizabeth’s tea time.

Actually, the reason for the invitation was crystal clear.

Because of morning sickness, Elizabeth could barely eat anything—only a meager portion of vegetables, fruits, and flour.

In another kingdom, it might not have sufficed, but in the Kingdom of Seophone, that was enough. Moreover, Elizabeth was the Duchess.

If Karem flatly declined a reward here, the Duke’s family would be in trouble.

That was the crux of the problem for Karem.

Simply put, the very idea of accepting a reward was daunting.

To be honest, he felt a bit scared.

But tofu isn’t meat.

Karem couldn’t muster the confidence to sort things out later if it turned out that acknowledgment of the tofu’s ingredients came to light.

The sharp gazes previously directed at Zigmeser and the cooks would undoubtedly be aimed at him as well with added disdain…

‘Things are getting increasingly complicated.’

“Can I possibly accept money instead?”

“Karem. Do you think you can simply convert saving the Duchess’s life into mere monetary gain—”

“No, no. Just in case.”

Godwin’s incredulity was warranted.

When a healer saves a Duchess from a terminal illness, no one would bat an eye if they received a title and territory in return.

And not being able to consume meat is, by Seophone standards, a terminal illness.

The words of the Duchess of Felwinter and her oldest and youngest sons rang very true to Karem’s ears.

If he fails to accept a reward here, it would cause even more problems.

For example, there would be much gossip if word got out that the Felwinter family properly spared the life of the Duchess, yet failed to give her a fitting reward.

“Why are you worrying so much?”

William asked, clearly flabbergasted.

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to resent your title? Just accepting the land and selling it shouldn’t be a big deal?”

“To be honest, I’m not really in need of money…”

“What’s with all these reservations?”

“But what about you, Your Highness? Don’t you have class today?”

“Wow, now you’re trying to kick me out? Oh wait, it’s just a joke. There’s no need to bury your head in the rice cake like that.”

Godwin, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement.

He truly couldn’t understand it.

Titles were one thing.

Even though Iceland valued meritocracy, it wasn’t entirely devoid of people who considered lineage important.

So, he could somewhat understand a serf refusing a title.

But to think there was someone who would refuse land in this world!

Then suddenly, a phrase from both Elder Iona and Viktor splashed into Godwin’s mind.

‘They say he surpasses your average priest with ease.’

It was an evaluation of Karem’s divine power.

Had he become enlightened like the revered priests known for their divine aura?

Such a thought was one Godwin himself fervently wished to deny.

It was a wild obsession bordering on madness to turn toxic plants into spices. Alicia, who could devour even monster byproducts as long as they tasted good, didn’t have an appetite that stemmed from enlightenment.

If anything, it was very close to an insult toward priests.

Thus, Godwin decided to take a very simple approach.

“Karem, think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your salary is ultimately coming from Catherine’s pocket, right?”

“Um, yeah.”

In fact, beyond his salary, Karem’s non-work expenditures were also catered by Catherine, who often insisted, “Where’s your money? Sis will cover it,” almost forcefully pressuring him.

So, objectively speaking, it was indeed Catherine’s money.

“You’re hinting at something painful here…”

Before Karem could finish his thought, Godwin raised a finger as if to say, just listen.

“A gift prepared with a reward earned solely by yourself.”

“…Hmm.”

Godwin’s words struck Karem, whose concerns suddenly amplified.

“A reward from myself, not from Catherine.”

“Exactly. I don’t know which barony your mother chose, but it must yield a tidy profit of several dozen crowns per quarter.”

“Money isn’t exactly a priority for me, though.”

Karem mused while spreading Nutella on his scone.

Is more money genuinely better?

Well, it was—provided he could actually use it.

Even if he wanted to spend money, Catherine, being omniscient, would inevitably pay on his behalf, making it feel like no matter how much he spent, it would never decrease.

And on top of that, his salary kept being raised unilaterally.

They said they would negotiate when signing the contract, but that never happened.

If that was the extent of it, it would be fine. Once a month, he received an influx of ancient imperial gold coins from Wales as repayment for meals, and if he were to acquire even more, it’d become a nuisance to manage.

“Besides, there’s a small forest and pasture, and below the villa, there’s a spring, so we grow fresh fruits and vegetables even in winter.”

“Is there a separate caretaker for it?”

“Of course.”

Having a caretaker included in the deal sounded better the more they discussed it. After all, Mary wouldn’t be able to teleport out of the tower…

And finally, upon hearing the long-awaited positive information, Elizabeth began shaking her head in disbelief.

“Honestly, to think there’s someone who would refuse land when it’s offered. It really doesn’t seem like he has any aspiration for priesthood.”

“Mother. If a priest were offered titles or land, they’d probably bow and accept with glee.”

William’s statement was astute.

A priest could be viewed as a type of power player in their own right, but they could also hold other professions. It varied depending on the denomination.

Most importantly, if they couldn’t individually own it, they could always include it under the temple; therefore, few priests would decline money, authority, and land.

“Furthermore, think of the priest who aims to use monster byproducts in cooking. Oh dear.”

“Oh, come on, vanilla is delicious.”

“True, it has its merits.”

William lightly dismissed Karem’s grievance as he spread butter, which was quite close to white, on his bread.

“Got any questions? For instance, about the name of the estate, or the flora of the forest?”

“Can I ask about something else aside from the estate?”

“As many as you wish.”

In response, Karem pointed at the buttery-yellowish substance that had been bothering him for a while, which slightly resembled a mixture of melted pearls.

“It looks like butter, but how do you handle it?”

“Oh, this? This isn’t butter.”

“Huh? Not butter?”

“It’s a substitute that Zigmeser made yesterday. Want to try some?”

With an invitation to eat as much as he liked, Karem gratefully took a spoonful and smeared it on his bread.

The first thing he noticed was that the texture was indistinguishable from butter.

There was a richness of oil in his mouth.

However, the taste—a bit lighter than concentrated fat—yet the nutty flavor and aroma at the end were strange. What was this?

‘Margarine?’

Just then, Godwin piled it on his bread, topped it with sugar, and took a bite.

“It’s not butter, but it resembles butter and has a nutty taste. How in the world did you make this?”

“If only I’d made it sooner, the pressure might have been less.”

“I guess he was motivated by Karem. Mother, what did you say the name of this was?”

As Godwin stuffed his mouth full of bread, Elizabeth lifted her cup and answered.

“It’s called margarine.”

“A variation of the ancient word meaning ‘pearl.'”

“And Godwin, just eat that much.”

“Mom?”

“I still remember our son rolling around like that as if he would get rolled away.”

At her words, William suddenly chimed in as if he had just remembered something.

“Oh right, Mother. By the way, Godwin was secretly dipping something into mayonnaise.”

“What the heck! How did you—”

“Godwin.”

“Wait a moment, Mother. I’ll explain everything.”

While the three Felwinter family members casually enjoyed their food, Karem gazed intensely at the margarine.

So it was indeed Zigmeser’s doing.

Margarine?

What on earth did he make it from?

 

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