The Exiled Saint is Living Happily in the Beastman Country: A Comfortable Life as a Hostage with Homemade Medicine and Delicious Meals!? - 8: I Can't Go Back to Those Days

Why are you here!!

I swallowed the shout that had risen to my lips with sheer willpower.

But it’s no wonder I’m shaken. After all, Prince Silva is in my room. He’s sitting on a chair, gazing out the window.

It’s as if he knew I’d return through the window.

However, I am currently wearing the stealth robe Jessica made. He shouldn’t be able to see me. Even as I approached a position where I could see him, his gaze did not catch me.

He shouldn’t be able to see me. It would be best to enter the castle from another location, hide my belongings somewhere, and then come in through the door. I can always make excuses for my outfit.

However, when I looked around, all the windows were closed. The servants probably closed them early because the weather was getting a bit cloudy. They are incredibly diligent. Not that I appreciate it at the moment.

I could wait for Prince Silva to leave, but if it starts raining and the windows are closed, it would be a disaster. I’d have to come back from the first floor. If a hostage is seen wandering around, it would certainly raise suspicions. And even if I hid wearing the robe, there’s a chance they could follow my scent.

I only manage to escape the castle because I ride the wind currents. Under normal circumstances, I’d be caught immediately.

What should I do…? As I was contemplating, the prince stood up.

“Saint Rana. If you’re back, show yourself. I’ll hear you out now.”

Though he can’t see me, he knows I’ve been away from my room for a while. How long has he been here? This might not be the first time he’s noticed my absence.

There’s no point in continuing to hide. I steeled myself and approached the window.

With a thud, I landed in the room. Slowly, I took off the stealth robe. Holding it in my hand, I bowed deeply.

“I have returned.”

“So, you actually came back… You could have escaped since I’ve let you go. Why do you come back every time?”

“Even if you ask me why…”

What would be the right answer?

If I say it’s because I’m a hostage, he’ll probably tell me not to run away. Saying it’s because I’m married would be the same.

If I honestly answer that it’s because I get to eat delicious food and live a good life, he might get angry and tell me not to joke around.

I tilted my head to the right, then to the left. But I couldn’t think of the answer he wanted.

I had imagined supporting the First and Second Princes as a princess and had been making efforts to help with my knowledge. I always tried to maintain exemplary manners. Thanks to my plain appearance, I could easily blend in with the commoners.

But I never imagined living as a hostage. Moreover, I never thought Prince Silva, who had never approached me before, would be waiting in the room he gave me.

I could handle unexpected weather, disasters, or monsters.

But it seems humans are slow to respond to unexpected situations they’re not used to.

As I was struggling to find an answer, Prince Silva’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Normally, people don’t return to a place where someone calls them a ‘hostage.'”

“His Majesty has acknowledged me as both a hostage and the prince’s wife.”

“That’s just lip service. Remember how you’ve been treated. None of it is how a princess should be treated. …Lukewarm soup, melted gelato, and bread left for three days!”

Though he passionately condemned these terrible things with a clenched fist, I actually enjoyed all of it.

Not only am I not suffering, but I’m also thoroughly enjoying this life. It’s not entirely without inconveniences, but with food, clothing, and shelter, plus no danger to my life, there’s no way I’d run away. I recognize this room as my current home, which is why I return every time.

But Prince Silva seems completely unaware of this.

If he knew about the eating habits in the Kingdom of Giranga, he’d surely faint. I’m glad I married into the Bistonia royal family instead of my homeland’s prince.

After all, he’s the kind of person who lets a hostage regularly leave the castle.

We’ve never had a proper conversation before, but I can feel that he’s a good person.

What should I say? I’m troubled by a different kind of dilemma now.

It seems Prince Silva misunderstood something. He covered his mouth and teared up.

“You can’t even speak. How pitiful…”

“No, um. The meals aren’t as miserable as you say, actually.”

“It’s okay. The chef, overwhelmed by guilt, confessed. He said you eat everything every day despite it all.”

The source of this information was too unexpected. Even the head maid probably didn’t realize she was causing the chef so much distress. I’m doubly surprised to learn it was the chef preparing my meals.

But think about it carefully.

Despite sneaking out many times, I always return before meals.

While it’s to avoid getting caught, it’s quite a gluttonous behavior when you think about it calmly.

“But ever since I found out you were going to the town, I realized the portions weren’t enough.”

“Eh…?”

“What did you eat today?”

“How much do you know…?”

“I know that on the days you go to town, there’s always a light breeze, you make and sell medicine, and you eat something before coming back. I noticed that some days, the usual sounds from your room stop a little after you arrived. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. When I checked the first time, you were actually in the room.”

Today should be the first time Prince Silva has come to my room since I started using it. At least, he has never come while I was awake.

But he’s a beastman, and he used the word “check.” The fact that he heard the sounds of my potion-making and noticed I came back after eating something means I might have underestimated the beastman’s senses.

“I noticed the pattern last month. When you returned, you smelled of fruits, spicy seasonings, and wheat… Is the food outside that good?”

“It’s really good!”

I forgot my position and answered enthusiastically.

I was surprised by the loudness of my own voice when I heard it. Prince Silva was also wide-eyed.

But the lamb sandwich I ate during my last outing was incredibly delicious.

The lamb was marinated overnight with fruit juice and several spices from the south, then crisply grilled and sandwiched with fresh vegetables.

The bread used was special, too. The wheat commonly used in Bistonia is fluffy and sweet, making the bread in the castle and town bakeries soft and light.

But the wheat used in this shop’s bread is from the northern territories of the continent. It doesn’t rise much, but it has a chewy texture.

This region mainly produced rice, and wheat farming started only recently. Wheat production is still limited, making it a rare commodity.

Moreover, the bread was kneaded with walnuts and thinly baked in a frying pan. As I approached the shop, the spices’ aroma teased my nose, urging my stomach to eat.

The shop was in the market near the west gate, a place rented out daily. It wasn’t always available.

The owner said they opened shops in various countries, so I didn’t know when I could eat there again if I missed this chance. Despite it being before dinner, I ended up eating three.

Of course, I also had the spice tea sold there.

I thought I had removed the scent with wind magic before returning, but I never imagined he’d pinpoint it so accurately…

Ah, remembering it makes me want to eat it again. My thoughts drift more towards the food than my current position.

The lamb was tender and easy to eat. Since it was my first time, I couldn’t tell which region the sheep came from.

In Bistonia, there’s also a custom of eating magical beast meat, so it’s hard to judge with my knowledge alone. I can usually tell the region and feed of cows, pigs, and chickens, though…

“Street food is good, but the real castle food is delicious. I want you to understand that.”

I already know how delicious the castle food is. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have forced another meal into my full stomach after eating three sandwiches.

In the future, even if I were released or divorced, I wouldn’t want to return to my homeland. I would run away with all my might.

I don’t mind the work of a saint. I don’t hate working. Recently, I feel my holy power has been recovering, so I should be more useful than before.

But my stomach can’t go back to the days of bad food. I can endure other hardships, but not the food. It’s not that I want more than this; I just don’t want to lower my standards all at once.

“To keep you from enduring any more, I’ve decided to stay in the room next to yours starting today. My belongings have already been moved. Let’s have our meals together.”

I can’t believe this is the same person who told me to escape if I wanted. Or did he wait in the room thinking I’d come back? I don’t fully understand his intentions, but I noticed his tail wagging slightly, showing he was enjoying something.