World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 117: Food For His Sickly Wife

The guards looked at us like we’d just farted in their mouths. Hmm...

So, this world doesn’t have the concept of homosexuality. We might be in their kingdom’s record as the first gay couple in their history.

Or maybe it’s just that our entrance wasn’t the most noble thing ever, but if they’d seen what we’ve been through lately, they would’ve offered us food and a hot bath instead of pointing spears at our throats.

One of them inside the gates bent over and started collecting what was left of our beloved, now-sliced-into-sashimi bag.

I winced as he held up the glinting remains of our hard-earned gold coins like they were relics from a forbidden temple.

"They are thieves. No doubt about it," the guard captain declared, as if he’d just uncovered the scandal of the decade. "No way would rags like you be carrying this much coin unless you’d stolen it."

"Rags?" I gasped dramatically. "I’ll have you know this cloak is made from the finest patchwork anxiety and sheer desperation! Do you have any idea how hard that is to stitch together?"

Claude’s head tilted downward as he looked at me with a warning. Oh, right. I should be acting like his sick lover here.

I coughed incessantly after that. "I mean, these are rags crafted with feelings of wanting to survive in this harsh world. Please, don’t belittle them."

The guards seemed unimpressed and unconvinced, so I tried again. "Look, sir, about the gold. We earned it through hard work. We even risked our lives just so we could buy medicine for me, but it’s still not enough."

The guard captain’s face grimaced. He flicked his hand, signalling the guards to capture us. I was about to say something again when suddenly, Claude dropped me.

I landed on my feet, stumbled, and spun toward him like a betrayed lover in a bad play. My hands flew up. My eyes are asking what the hell he is doing.

However, the great prince, sole heir of his kingdom, did not say anything. He just gave me that faint eyebrow twitch that meant ’trust me’, which I took as ’I just improvised this plan five seconds ago and we’re both doomed’.

I was left with no choice but to ride on it, since my lies were exposed already. I scratched my head and slowly hid behind him, whose head remained high in the faces of countless spears.

Then, a new guard arrived, dragging a rather apologetic-looking Etienne by the arm.

"Sir, I’ve confirmed that this once is really with the Duke’s guest, and his grace specifically ordered to treat him amicably. What should I do with him?"

"He brought thieves along with—

"The duke sure had some great taste. So, he fancies men, too, huh? This stranger looks so pretty. Hey, stranger, are you really a man? Or are you just a female stranger hiding her beauty?"

I mentioned a stranger three times, so lord, please make them believe me. Also, Etienne, cooperate! He looked at me. I sighed in relief after his expression changed from worry to clueless.

"I told you I don’t know them. I was brought here by the duke himself, so let me go, or else the duke will hear about this."

The guard paled. He sought approval from the guard captain, but his grip on Etienne’s cloak had already loosened.

I couldn’t help but stare at Etienne. How is it that he’s so good at acting? He really looked like he didn’t know us, and even implied the duke’s intention of bringing him to his mansion!

Now, the guards were clearly thinking that Etienne was someone the duke kept for some... services.

The guard captain cleared his throat. "Let him in. Escort him to the mansion."

Claude and I exchanged relieved glances.

Before he was whisked away, Etienne met my eyes, regret heavy in his expression, like he thought this was somehow his fault.

I shook my head at him as the guard dragged him away. You’re not the one who thought climbing a death fence was a good idea, after all.

Well, Claude and I? Straight to the dungeon.

It was damp. It was cold. And worst of all, it stank.

They threw us into what looked like the worst honeymoon suite in history: rusty bars, cracked stone walls, and what I sincerely hoped was moss and not something someone coughed up thirty years ago.

I didn’t even get to throw a sarcastic comment before Claude strode to the far back, where a stone seat carved from the wall was, and sat like there was no problem.

Is he fucking serious? My heart was hammering because we had no idea how much longer we had to stay locked up in here, and yet he was just trying to take a nap?!

I grabbed the iron bars and shook them hard, acting like a prisoner set to be delivered to a guillotine.

"Fuck. It’s not budging." I threw my hands in the air, resigned. Then, I sat next to the enlightened-looking guy.

"So, care to tell me what’s got into your thick head and let them catch us? I had a full dialogue in my head about a poor man begging the duke to save his sickly wife, but you blew it off. Tsk."

In the corner of my eye, I saw Claude turn to me. His eyes narrowed, and accusing. "You want me to beg?"

"For the sake of our survival, yes?"

He fucking clicked his tongue and looked away, indicating that, that would never happen. I was irked. The least he could do is answer—

"Our goal was to enter. We did. Now, our goal is to escape from here."

"I never thought you were this simple-minded, Captain."

Claude scowled at me. Then, he proceeded to explain, "Knights don’t have the authority to kill prisoners once they are brought into the nobleman’s dungeon. They would have to report to him about us."

"And? You think the duke, who had never met us, would free us like that?"

"No. But the knights would at least keep us alive. If someone came down to give us food. We just have to strike and steal the keys."

We’re defenseless right now. Our weapons were taken away, so the guard captain won’t think too much and send a single one to deliver our rations. However, we fought monsters, bigger and larger than a human, so our strengths were far greater than theirs.

I stretched my arm and examined my biceps. Hmm, if we’re that powerful, then why wait for the keys to come down? We can just create a way!

I stood with a newfound resolve. I stretched my fingers and neck, and warmed up, then I grabbed two iron bars and pulled them away from each other.

"What are you trying to do?"

I don’t like his tone. Instead of helping me, he just crossed his legs and leaned on the wall. Great.

"It’s useless."

I ignored him and pulled again. One of the bars groaned and gave way just a little. I was proud. But in the next pull, something different groaned. I slowly backed away from the bars and clutched my stomach.

When was the last time we ate again?

My stomach let out a growl so violent once more, it echoed off the stone walls like a war cry.

Claude stared at me.

"I’m hungry, okay?" I admitted. "When do you think they will come and feed us?"

I didn’t get an answer. He just stood abruptly, his shadow like a wind passing by me in a blink, then before I knew it, the bars were grunting from being pulled forcefully.

I gawked at him. What made him move now? I didn’t fart, so it’s not because the air was polluted. Did he suddenly take pity on me?

Or guilt? He finally realized that a man can go three days without drinking and three weeks without food. Meaning, there’s a high chance that the guards won’t come until our third day here.

And that’s too much time wasted.

I sighed as I walked back to the seat. Then, I commented out of nowhere, "I get a bit crazy and unreasonable when I’m starving."

Then, amidst the glorious chorus of Claude’s grumbling and me contemplating which rock I’d be forced to eat first, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Claude stopped. I stood up and dusted myself off, striking my best ’falsely-accused political prisoner’ pose.

We haven’t seen the face of our visitor yet when Claude’s voice reverberated in the air.

"Give us bread. My sickly wife is hungry."

I almost stumbled on the floor. Who just said he would never beg earlier? I wanted to tease him for that, but I was hoping he wouldn’t look back.

So, he won’t see how red my face was. I’m the one who started this, so why is my heart leaping in joy?

Be still, you goddamn gay heart of mine.