Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 1.8

“I said thanks!”

“Is that any way to say thank you?” Our squabble started up again until Elsie stepped in, sighing as if she’d had enough of both of us.

“Master Etienne, Callisto, please stop fighting.

Dinner is ready. The Count is out, so it’ll just be the two of you dining tonight.

” Somehow, evening had arrived while Callisto and I were arguing. I’d requested something specific for tonight’s meal and turned to Elsie to confirm. “You prepared what I asked for, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones made it especially for you. Shall we head down?” “Let’s go, Callisto.” I extended my hand to Callisto, who was still sitting on the bed. The bed was high, and he’d have trouble getting down on his own. He pouted and shot me a reluctant look but didn’t move. “Come on. Tonight’s menu is really good. Aren’t you hungry?”

“…I’m hungry.”

“Then let’s go. Want me to carry you if it hurts too much?”

“It doesn’t hurt!” Grumbling, Callisto reluctantly took my hand with his uninjured one. His attitude was noticeably better than before.

I smiled secretly as I helped him down from the bed. In the dining room, Callisto and I sat next to each other, waiting for the meal to be served. Footmen brought out the dishes, one by one, on elegant trays.

Despite his circumstances, Callisto’s late nanny had clearly taught him well.

He sat poised and followed proper table etiquette, even as a child. The issue arose when the food was served.

Typically, the footmen would present the dishes, and each diner would serve themselves a portion before beginning to eat. I followed this process as usual, taking my portion first.

When the footman approached Callisto with a dish, the boy’s eyes widened in shock. His small shoulders flinched, and then, suddenly, he lunged forward. Grabbing the food with both hands, he began shoving it into his mouth. I heard the footman gasp sharply.

My own hands froze mid-motion as I watched Callisto with wide eyes. Callisto didn’t seem to notice.

His movements were frantic and desperate as he stuffed the food into his mouth, his bony wrists trembling.

The sight brought back memories of the original story. Callisto’s nanny had died two years before he arrived at the Count’s estate. Since then, he’d survived by wandering the slums alone. Hunger had been a constant companion, and he hadn’t had a proper meal or a safe place to rest in years.

In the novel, this was the first time in years that Callisto had seen such a luxurious spread. The image of him grabbing food with his hands and stuffing his hollow cheeks had been heartbreaking even on the page.

But seeing it in person was a completely different experience. Watching him now, it hit me, Callisto wasn’t just a fictional protagonist anymore. He was a living, breathing child. I raised my hand and called to the footman, my voice steady.

“Andrew, we’ll manage on our own. You can all leave us for now.”

“Yes, Master Etienne.” Hearing my voice, Callisto froze.

The footmen quietly left, leaving just the two of us in the dining room. Callisto remained rigid, his head bowed.

His ears, cheeks, and neck burned bright red.

I knew why. Callisto wasn’t uneducated; he knew his station and carried a strong sense of pride. However, years of starvation and hardship had made it impossible for him to control his instincts.

Shame filled his tear-brimmed eyes as he kept his head down, unable to look at me. Wordlessly, I picked up the plate of lamb steak from the center of the table. As I cut it into small pieces, Callisto’s gaze followed my every move.

He gulped nervously, his throat bobbing, but he didn’t say a word. I speared a piece of lamb with my fork and held it out to him. His tear-filled eyes widened in surprise. “Here. Say ‘ah,’” I said gently.

“…Why?”

His voice was low and hoarse. He tried to feign indifference but couldn’t hide his embarrassment. His defiant gaze clashed with mine, but it only made him look sadder to me.

“Because your hand hurts. You can’t eat on your own right now.”

“Ah…” Callisto’s gaze dropped to his bandaged hand, as if suddenly realizing he couldn’t hold a knife and fork properly.

“Looks like we don’t have any kid-sized forks ready yet. I’ll cut the food for you today, just for today.” Callisto’s full, rosy lips jutted out in a pout. Though he seemed to be feeling better, he still looked like he wanted to insist he could handle it on his own. Callisto hesitated for a moment, his lips moving as if to argue. “I can do it my—”

“Here, try it,” I interrupted, cutting off his protests by placing a piece of finely sliced lamb steak in his mouth. “Mrs. Jones, the best cook in the house, made this just for us. It’s delicious, isn’t it?”

The main dish was the lamb steak I had specially requested from Mrs. Jones. Callisto’s face scrunched in annoyance at being cut off, but as he chewed the steak, his eyes went wide.

“It’s good, right?”

“…Yeah,” he admitted quietly, nodding. I glanced at him and smiled inwardly.

The original story provided plenty of specific details about Callisto, including his favorite foods. Even after he was recognized as the Second Prince and moved to the imperial palace, there were scenes of him enjoying lamb steak. Seeing his positive reaction to it now gave me a sense of satisfaction. To my surprise, Callisto remained unusually quiet.

I’d expected him to mutter something like, “I’ll do it myself, you villain!” but instead, he meekly opened his mouth for each bite. His soft, plump lips parted like a baby bird waiting to be fed. The sight was undeniably adorable but also pitiful.

He ate so quickly, barely chewing before swallowing, that it was heartbreaking.

In the original novel, there was also a scene where Callisto ate lamb steak with Etienne. At the time, Callisto had loved the dish, but he never had it again. Etienne, noticing Callisto’s fondness for it, had deliberately denied him the pleasure. He even went as far as to snatch Callisto’s plate and dump it on the floor, mocking him by saying, “You’re nothing more than a stray dog—go ahead and lick it up like one.”

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