Wolvin glanced briefly at Calian through the corner of his eye. The purple-haired youth sat calmly beside him. His back was straight, not leaning against the chair. His face was flat and authoritative, as if he didn't care about the stares of the people around them.
I must not ruin this moment! Wolvin's resolve hardened. If I eat like a savage, my husband will surely be looked down upon by every human here.
Wolvin's memory drifted back to their time of isolation in the West Pavilion.
That place had been a silent prison for the two of them. During the last few months living together there, the world seemed to have ostracized them. There were no parties, no banquets, and certainly no other noble guests coming to visit. There were only the two of them, sitting at the dining table that was there.
Back then, Darling always maintained his etiquette while eating, Wolvin thought with admiration. And now, I must do the same so I don't embarrass my husband!
Slowly, Wolvin's hand moved. The audience held their breath. They watched the beastfolk intently, barely blinking.
Wolvin's hand moved to the side of the plate, reaching for the white cloth napkin folded neatly there. With a very calm and measured movement, his fingers unfolded the napkin. He didn't shake it out roughly. Instead, he spread it gently over his lap, mimicking the exact movement Calian usually made before every meal.
Calian, who was spooning up his cream of mushroom soup, suddenly stopped. His hand froze in mid-air for a split second.
His purple eyes narrowed slightly, glancing toward Wolvin's lap, then back to his partner's face. There was no exaggerated expression of shock on his face, but inside his heart, a big question arose.
Since when?
The question echoed in Calian's mind. He resumed spooning soup into his mouth with mechanical movements, but his mind was working fast, analyzing the situation.
We did live together for a few months in the West Pavilion. Calian thought in disbelief. A very short time to change lifelong habits. I never taught him the noble dining etiquette that demands perfection. We were too busy training, and I even had to attend to my spouse's sexual drive, which was too hyper.
However, what he was seeing now was reality.
Wolvin's left hand reached for the fork, and his right hand reached for the steak knife. He didn't grip the handle of the knife with a full fist like someone about to stab an enemy, but instead held it with his index finger pressing on the spine of the knife with flexibility.
A very faint clink of metal, barely audible, occurred as the knife touched the surface of the porcelain plate.
Wolvin began to cut, his elbows not touching the table, kept close to the sides of his body with perfect posture. He sliced the meat with the precise angle, separating it into small pieces, the perfect size for a single bite. There was no screeching sound of the knife against the ceramic plate. Everything was silent, efficient, and very elegant.
Once a piece was separated, Wolvin rested his knife for a moment on the edge of the plate, then switched the fork to his right hand to eat. He brought the piece of meat to his mouth. His lips didn't open too wide, and as he chewed, he did so with great elegance.
There was no noisy sound, no sauce left at the corner of his lips. His Adam's apple moved up and down calmly as he swallowed.
Calian placed his soup spoon slowly into the bowl, his eyes unable to leave Wolvin's precise hand movements. During our time in the West Pavilion... was he secretly watching my every move at the dining table?
The realization hit Calian. During those silent months, when Calian thought Wolvin was just sitting quietly accompanying him to eat, it turned out his spouse was learning.
Wolvin recorded every detail, every angle of the elbow, every way of holding the spoon that he always did in the West Pavilion. And now, his spouse was practicing it to perfection.
Meanwhile, all around them, the atmosphere changed drastically.
The jaw of the noblewoman who had scoffed earlier now dropped, the fan in her hand hanging limply in her lap. Her husband even forgot to chew his own food, his eyes bulging as if seeing a ghost in broad daylight.
They were watching a beastfolk eating steak with an elegance that exceeded even the table manners of their own children. No brutality. No gluttony. There was only perfect posture and hand movements that were graceful yet firm.
The prejudice in the room shattered into pieces without a sound. Shame slowly crept onto the faces of the humans who had underestimated him moments ago. Those who had hoped to see a spectacle of a "savage" were instead presented with the sight of a young man eating like a prince.
"Impossible..." muttered a wealthy merchant at the opposite table, his voice sounding choked. "Look at how he rests his knife while pausing... That is high-class noble etiquette. Even fringe nobles often forget that detail."
Hearing the whispers of admiration mixed with shame, Calian maintained his flat face in front of everyone.
Calian picked up his water glass, took a small sip to wet his throat, then placed it back down gently.
Without turning, without changing his impassive expression, Calian whispered. "Good moves, Wolvin." his voice was very low, barely audible amidst the clinking of plates, intended only for Wolvin's sharp ears next to him. "You are truly great."
Wolvin, hearing the whisper, did not overreact. His ear just twitched once. He wanted to smile broadly to show his happiness as he usually did when they were alone. However, he knew that was not the right thing to do.
He swallowed his food, then wiped the corner of his lips with the tip of the napkin, again with a very polite movement.
"I always watched you in the West Pavilion." Wolvin replied in a small voice, his eyes remaining focused on the plate, not daring to look at Calian for too long. "I didn't want to embarrass you, and at the same time, I wanted to silence their rude mouths!"
Calian fell silent for a moment, then resumed eating. Behind his flat face, there was a suppressed sense of happiness. Wolvin was not only a faithful spouse but also a reliable ally. He knew when to be affectionate and when to be professional.
Elara, sitting opposite them, watched the entire small interaction from behind her porcelain teacup. Her sharp blue eyes caught everything: the tension in Wolvin's muscles as he restrained himself, Calian's evaluative glance, and the brief whisper full of meaning.
She saw how her son maintained physical distance, and how her son-in-law suppressed his ego for the sake of her son. And that was a silent cooperation between two people protecting each other's secrets.
Elara set her cup down soundlessly. The corners of her lips lifted very slightly, a smile of relief almost invisible to anyone in the room.
However, behind her smile, there was a sense of worry about Wolvin. Hopefully no one will hinder us when we go to the guild later. Elara thought anxiously. The presence of beastfolk in this empire is a mental test for my son and Wolvin after living in isolation in the West Pavilion for so long. And now, you can learn that the outside world is not as beautiful as both of you imagine.