The Speed-of-Light Aging Diet

"Accelerated aging? What's that supposed to be?"

Everlein asked, and Lionel answered.

"Good question. To understand accelerated aging, you first need to know about slow aging."

Lionel began her explanation, step by careful step.

"Slow aging — the slow aging diet — was a diet craze that swept through Korea... er, pardon me, the East, some time ago. Simply put, it's the claim that if you consistently eat foods that are good for you, you can slow down your body's aging. Plenty of people actually saw real results from it."

There had even been a period when people practically lived on nothing but soybeans in the name of slow aging, so explaining the concept posed no difficulty whatsoever.

At that, Kaylen perked up as if a lightbulb had gone off over his head.

"Then would the accelerated aging diet be a diet that speeds up the body's aging?"

"See, this is why you're the aide! Brilliant. Yes, exactly. So I'm going to feed the Duke the accelerated aging diet and observe the changes in his body."

Lionel folded down her fingers one by one as she listed the effects — if you could call them that — of the accelerated aging diet.

"The changes we can expect include weight gain, elevated blood pressure, skin breakouts, rising cholesterol, and elevated blood sugar. Gastrointestinal distress is also a distinct possibility."

Only after she'd finished did it dawn on her that she had just delivered a trash-tier statement that betrayed everything a physician was supposed to stand for.

While Lionel wrestled with her guilty conscience, Everlein chimed in, ever so delicately.

"Physician. I'll admit I'm no expert on medicine, but everything you've listed sounds terribly bad for the body—"

"Quiet, Everlein. If you don't understand something, keep your mouth shut and nod along. The physician is clearly smarter than you, whose brain has gone entirely to muscle."

Kaylen, who by now had transformed into a full-fledged Lionel worshipper, jabbed Everlein in the ribs.

At this point, if Lionel told him she'd picked her teeth with a telephone pole, he looked ready to give her a standing ovation.

Everlein shut his mouth with an embarrassed look on his face. Lionel, however, came to his defense.

"You spotted it exactly right, Lord... I mean, Sir Everlein. This is an experiment intended to force some kind of 'change' in the Duke's body, by any means necessary."

Lionel pointed at the Duke.

Truthfully, judged purely on scientific curiosity, she'd have loved to taxidermy his body right then and there and use it as official teaching material. But to survive, she had to find a way to make him grow old and die.

"The Duke hasn't had a proper meal in three hundred years. So the idea is to use intensely stimulating food to wake up all those dormant aging cells inside him."

"'Cells'? Now what might those be?"

"Ah, well. They're the smallest building blocks of the body. Tiny, tiny cells all clump together to make up our bodies."

Lionel explained it with the same feeling she'd had as a child reading those question-and-answer science comics.

Everlein nodded, though he still looked full of doubt.

"You believe it will work?"

"If he gains even a single gram of weight, or gets an upset stomach... then I'd say there's potential."

The aide's eyes, the bodyguard knight's eyes, and the physician's eyes all turned to the Duke at once. Whether or not this experiment would go ahead rested entirely on the Immortal's will.

Blasion accepted it faster than expected.

"Very well. Proceed."

"Oh...? Truly?"

"Did I not say? That I trust you, Physician, and will follow you in all things. Whatever you decide, I will do."

An obedient patient is the best kind of patient!

Lionel spoke, hope blooming warm in her chest.

"Wonderful. I'd love to launch the accelerated aging diet immediately, but there's something I need to do first. Sir Aide — could you prepare enough paper for every person in this household?"

"Paper? I can prepare as much as you need, but what do you intend to use it for?"

Lionel beamed.

"Market research. We're starting with market research."

A few days later, I sat at the desk in my consultation room with a thick stack of papers in hand.

The Duke sat across from me. He seemed to find the 'survey' I'd conducted rather intriguing.

"Meat, fish, fruits and vegetables... Hmm. As expected, people do want a balanced variety of foods."

"So long as the belly's full, that should be enough."

"Your Grace, I keep telling you not to equate yourself with other people."

When the staff had first seen the survey, their reaction had been lukewarm at best — but the moment they heard it was for the purpose of putting together a new menu, their eyes transformed completely.

"Do you mean to say we can finally escape this jerky hell?"

At the servant's words, I nodded.

"Yes. I'll be placing orders for ingredients based on the survey results."

"Good heavens. I thought you were merely a physician, but a savior has come among us. Thank you!!"

And so every last soul in the household submitted their survey without a single exception, and I used the results to draft a meal plan with a flawless ratio of carbohydrates, protein, and fat.

At long last, a magnificent menu board worthy of a high school cafeteria was complete.

"When did you say the new chef would arrive?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good. Then I'll have all the cooking done on the basis of this menu."

Phew, one thing down. I'd just started to relax when I felt a gaze on me and looked up.

The Duke's violet eyes were fixed squarely on me.

"...Did you have something to say?"

"You work remarkably hard, Physician. When did you become such a diligent worker?"

I snorted.

"I have always, always been a diligent worker."

"Funny, then, that you didn't seem to get much recognition at your last job."

Digging up my painful past out of nowhere like this... I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

"Do you know the sorrows of a contract worker, Your Grace? Don't go running your mouth about things you know nothing about."

"What kind of things, exactly?"

"Don't even ask. Back when I was working at the hospital, the board chairman made such a fuss about introducing me to a 'wonderful man' that I finally agreed to go on the setup. I figured, how great could this guy possibly be?"

"And? Was he wonderful?"

"No. The crazy chairman himself showed up. Said, 'Surprised, aren't you?'"

The Duke turned his head away for an instant, then snapped it right back. In that brief moment, I became absolutely certain he was running a laughing-suppression challenge.

The Duke asked with a perfectly straight face.

"So? What happened?"

"What do you think happened? I rejected him on the spot and walked out. I wanted to quit the hospital right then, but I still had debts to pay..."

"It's not too late, even now. If you wish it, I can have him dealt with."

The Duke said it in a low voice. I laughed it off as a joke, then realized he was dead serious and shook my head.

"It's fine. For what it's worth, his little schemes got him caught by his wife, and she beat him black and blue in front of the hospital. He ended up quitting first, actually."

"Well. In any case, it worked out well for you, Physician."

"It did. Except I also got fired pretty quickly for trying to organize a union to help the cafeteria ladies. So it was all kind of pointless."

What a bitter, brief stint at the hospital it had been. I wrapped up the story with nothing but bitterness in my mouth.

"Your Grace, you must never, ever show up at a matchmaking setup. Understood? Let's strictly maintain the boundary between employer and employee."

"I shall never attend one, so rest easy."

We each wore grave expressions as we drove in the nail: neither of us would ever appear at the other's blind date.

Yes. This kind of clean, professional relationship. Exactly how it should be.

Quite satisfied, I turned my attention back to my charts.

We were about to return to our respective work when—

"I am not a fool like that chairman."

"...?"

"I cannot afford to lose a diligent worker like you — someone who gives their all to everything they do — over some petty desire of my own."

With those parting words, the Duke walked out of the consultation room. Left behind, I stared blankly at his retreating back for a moment.

"...Was that a compliment?"

That was a compliment, right? He was complimenting me for working hard, wasn't he?

The sudden praise made my cheeks feel inexplicably hot. I pressed my palms to both of them to cool them down.

"Physician Frencia, about the survey results... Hm? Are you feeling unwell? Your face looks rather red."

Kaylen had chosen that exact moment to walk into the room. I whipped my head away and responded as casually as I could manage.

"N-no, it's nothing. Anyway, Aide, I have a request for you."

I handed him the note I'd prepared in advance.

"Please place an order for everything on this list. They're the exclusive ingredients for the accelerated aging menu."

"Understood."

Kaylen scanned the note once, then looked back at me.

"You've ordered an awful lot of chicken, haven't you? A full sack of sugar, a full sack of garlic... why on earth do you need this many spices?"

"Spices? I'll have you know—"

I denied it instantly.

"Garlic is not a spice. It is a famine crop. A staple food."

"...Pardon?"

"You roast it and eat it. You boil it and eat it. You eat it raw."

I watched it happen: the faint, telltale waver in Kaylen's green eyes.

He seemed torn for a moment between interjecting against the words of the physician he revered, or simply letting it slide.

In the end, Kaylen changed the subject. He was, after all, a man who knew how to navigate society.

"So... what exactly are you planning to make with all this?"

The chief culprits of accelerated aging are chronic inflammation, reactive oxygen species, and glycotoxins — AGEs.

What accelerate all of these are refined carbohydrates that spike your blood sugar, excessive sugar, processed meats, deep-fried dishes, and the like.

And I intended to assemble a diet made exclusively of things that checked every single one of those boxes — a regimen that would blast past mere accelerated aging straight into speed-of-light aging.

All so that I, Lionel Frencia, could leave my own stain upon the Duke's flawless body.

"What am I going to make, you ask..."

I bowed my head with a bashful smile. Thinking about something delicious for the first time in ages, the grin just came out on its own.

"I'm going to make fried chicken. And tanghulu."