Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive Chapter 166: Aurelian’s questionable ’kindness’

After reminiscing about the Duke and Lucius for a few seconds, Julian looked back at his own plate, but his body imdiately went rigid and a chill ran down his spine.

The food, though looking as appetising as they co, made his guts feel oily.

He forced his hands steady to cut into the glazed quail and then lifted his fork to take a bite. It was small and agonizing, but it still packed quite a punch to his taste buds.

Each chew felt like he was grinding stones with his teeth despite the tenderness of the quail, and swallowing required a conscious effort to keep his body from rejecting it entirely.

Aurelian hadn’t touched his own food and simply held a wine glass in his hand as he watched, taking in all of this detail to use as ’leverage’.

"You eat as though each bite is a penance, Master Astrea," the Emperor remarked, his voice echoing too loudly in the high-dod room. "Tell ... is the Imperial al so inferior to the table kept at the Duke’s manor? Does the Grand Duke of the North offer you a kind of spice in your al that the Sun of the Empire cannot provide?"

Julian’s breath hitched. He felt the bile rise in his throat, a sharp, acidic warning. He tried to swallow it down, to find a diplomatic deflection, but Aurelian wasn’t finished.

The Emperor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing fiercely. The bored mask was gone, replaced by a cold, sharpened edge of disgust that seed to vibrate in the air.

"Or is it," Aurelian hissed, the words cutting through the silence like a whip, "because you’ve gotten so used to being fed by my brother that you’ve forgotten how to eat on your own?"

The implication was foul. It stripped Julian of his status as a scholar, or a noble, and painted him as a pampered, dostic thing—a pet that had lost its dignity in the Duke’s bedchamber.

Julian’s hand tightened around the stem of his wine glass until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. His [ntal Stability] flickered, the red warning light pulsing once as the number ticked down.

> [ntal Stability: 29% — Status: Critical Pressure]

The Pavilion felt like it was shrinking. Across the table, the children’s confusion turned into a sharp, protective anxiety as they realized the Emperor’s target was their master once again, yet they were too far away to even brush his hand.

They were too small to stop the ’bullying’.

Julian swallowed hard, the movent slow and painful. He forced his mismatched eyes to et Aurelian’s, refusing to look away even as his stomach threatened to turn.

"The air in the Palace is simply... heavy, Your Majesty," Julian rasped, his voice thin but carrying the cold precision of a Northern winter. "I find a lighter al, when I am ’unwell’, to be rather soothing to my palate."

Aurelian’s smirk didn’t falter, but the gold in his eyes darkened to the color of tarnished brass. He leaned back, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the marble.

"Is that so?" Aurelian murmured. "Perhaps a few days in total darkness will help clarify your palate, Master Astrea."

Julian flinched, his body threatening to give out. It seed like the Emperor was going to send him back to the Jade Wing and lock him up.

He shut his eyes, pursing his lips and listening to his heart hamr in his ribs. It seed there was nothing else to do but look forward to the lonely darkness.

But just as he was preparing his mind to be sent back, The Emperor lifted his hand, calling over the head servant who was on standby.

"Master Astrea still seems to be unwell," Aurelian said. His eyes narrowed, tracking Julian’s reaction with a dark, clinical intensity. "Tell the kitchen to prepare a light chicken broth, and have so sweets sent to his room as well."

Julian’s eyes snapped open. He looked at the Emperor in genuine shock, his breath hitching. Sweets? A light broth? He t Aurelian’s gaze and found not kindness, but a bold, triumphant smirk.

The Emperor looked like a man who had just discovered a much more entertaining way to toy with a trapped bird—by feeding it from his own hand until it didn’t know whether to chirp or bite.

"He shall be waiting anxiously for his al," Aurelian continued, his voice dripping with mock concern. "So, be sure to prepare it quickly so he doesn’t lose his mind and faint from hunger."

With those final, biting words, Aurelian stood up, his chair scraped against the marble floor with a harsh, screeching sound that made Julian’s teeth ache. The smirk remained fixed on the Emperor’s lips as he turned, his golden cloak billowing behind him.

"I shall take my leave now, Master Astrea. Make sure you enjoy the al in your room."

Aurelian marched out, the heavy double doors of the Pavilion shutting behind him with a loud, echoing BOOM that seed to vibrate in Julian’s very bones.

The silence that followed was deafening. Julian was left sitting in the golden glare of the sun, his heart racing with a new, sharper kind of fear. What was the Emperor up to? Was the food a peace offering, or a vehicle for sothing far worse?

He gulped, anxiety creeping up his spine once again as he feared the worst to co.

Then, he looked across the table at the twins. Cassian and Liora were both sitting still, their small faces etched with a worry that was far too old for them.

Julian managed to force a small, trembling smile their way—a silent promise that he was still there, still breathing—even as the Golden Guards stepped up behind him and shadowed his fra.

"Master Astrea," the lead guard grunted, his hand hovering near his sword hilt. "We’ll escort you back to the Jade Wing."

"Yes," he said, getting up from his chair and doing a little bow at the prince and princess.

"We shall... see each other soon again." It was more like he was telling himself than them.

If he would ever make it out of that room anyti soon, he did not know. But it was his greatest wish that he get to see the children daily and teach them.

As Julian was led out, the [Stability] ter in the corner of his eye flickered a dull, exhausted red.

> [ntal Stability: 29% — Status: Paranoid Anticipation]

It was a constant reminder... A dreadful reminder that he would not like to think about if possible. But... the system did not relent in reminding him, as if mocking him and his vulnerability.