How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending

It was closer to seawater with miyeok in it than actual miyeok soup. There were no seasonings, no sesame oil, no garlic, and only minimal meat fat, yet this was acceptable under the circumstances. The problem was that we had substituted lacking miyeok with sargassum, which left a slightly grassy aftertaste.

“Well, it is edible. We cannot be picky under these circumstances. Right, Your Highness?”

I confidently put down the ladle and asked Tristan. After a brief hesitation, he responded.

“…Yes.”

“Would Your Highness like to try it?”

“…I will have it with the crew later.”

His replies were consistently delayed, but I turned my attention away from Tristan and toward the cook and the assistant sailors.

“Now, go out to the deck and distribute it to the crew. Make sure everyone eats.”

After a short pause, I went up to the deck. The sailors were already lined up on wooden crates, each holding a bowl of sargassum-miyeok soup. Their anxious eyes all focused on me. Seeing so many uneasy faces at once made me chuckle silently.

‘Look at this, look at this.’

I clicked my tongue inwardly. They had claimed that sailors valued raw or rough food, yet here they were, terrified of a simple dish. They had stubbornly refused vegetables, never imagining that scurvy could result.

I crossed my arms and spoke calmly.

“Take a taste. It is not bad. Do not just drink the broth. Eat the miyeok and sargassum as well. That is the only way it will work.”

The sailors stared down at their bowls nervously. Some whispered to each other, asking if this was really moldy algae. One even brought the bowl close to smell it and then put it down again. Eventually, one brave sailor finally took a spoonful.

“…Ugh.”

He grimaced, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and lowered his head. Another nearby sailor, surprised, asked.

“Is it… bad?”

“No… I do not know the taste. It seems ordinary. But why is it so slippery?”

“Slippery? You mean the food?”

Confused, the sailors picked up their spoons one by one. Almost simultaneously, their expressions twisted into bewilderment.

“Y-Grand Consort. Is this really edible? I mean… really?”

“This texture on my throat… What is it, Grand Consort? It is sticky and slippery, like some kind of insect…”

“Can I just chew on some dried meat instead? Eating this will cure the illness… I do not mean to doubt Grand Consort, but…”

The sailors all muttered their complaints. In the midst of the chaos, the deck officer almost spat out the miyeok, but I glared at him, and he swallowed quickly. The apprentice sailor next to him closed his eyes tightly and shoved a generous spoonful of sargassum and miyeok into his mouth.

Tristan, quietly observing, extended his hand toward the cook.

“I will have a bowl as well.”

“…”

At those words, the murmuring ceased instantly. The deck became strangely silent.

The cook, panicked, hurriedly ladled the soup. Tristan took it without a word.

The bowl contained pale bluish broth with miyeok and sargassum floating in it. Tristan stared at it, his eyebrows twitching ever so slightly.

He lifted a spoon without showing any expression, put a spoonful in his mouth, chewed minimally, and swallowed.

“…”

A moment of silence followed. The surrounding sailors cautiously lowered their spoons, eyes darting around.

Tristan spoke again.

“It is fine. This is food made by Grand Consort. Make sure no one leaves any behind.”

“Yes… yes!”

Finally regaining their composure, the sailors began eating. One by one, they scooped up the miyeok and sargassum, making small slurping noises on the deck.