"Hey, Pigeon, don't waste your good black bread on this guy. He's been unconscious all day; he's surely not going to make it."
"But he's clearly still alive. It's just a piece of bread, I'm a child, I can't eat that much anyway. And moreover, our black bread was a charitable gift from the distinguished young miss of the Rose Chamber of Commerce. If I can use it to save someone else, that's all the better."
"Oh, you naive fool! Wouldn't it be better to trade the remaining half of the bread for a few copper coins? You'll regret it when you're hungry yourself."
"Not at all. Huh, this mister is awake!"
"..."
Leonard Churchill had been awake for some time.
But he was in a terrible state.
Like severe seasickness, his mind was groggy and hazy.
He vaguely felt as if it had rained, wet and rather cold.
Someone had pried open his mouth, pouring some sticky mush inside.
Oh, that taste... it was awful.
It was as if hot water had soaked the black bread.
