Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: White Spot Disease
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White Spot Disease.
That was the official name announced by the kingdom's medical community.
A contagious disease characterized by headaches, chills, and white spots appearing on the chest.
Currently, it was the culprit terrorizing the eastern part of the kingdom.
Richter, Tristy, Argento, and other major eastern territories had not yet fully recovered from the damage suffered at the Polar Anomaly when this plague arrived, proving a more threatening foe than the demons.
Many people caught it and slowly withered away to death.
Like rotting old trees.
Those in the medical field tried desperately to find a solution to White Spot Disease.
But it was an era where even longstanding diseases that had plagued humanity for ages could not be fully eradicated.
Finding a cure for a brand-new illness must have been extraordinarily difficult.
With no known solution, the belief gradually spread that contracting the disease meant certain death.
People shunned those infected.
The poor drove patients from their homes, while the wealthy forcibly committed them to hospitals as if exiling them.
Because White Spot Disease was contagious.
The healthy had to survive.
Of course, not everyone behaved that way, but the plague embodied pure terror for the populace.
Perhaps this moment was even more frightening to the easterners than the Polar Anomaly.
It was certainly less devastating than the Black Death that had ravaged the kingdom in the distant past, but the timing ensured it caused a massive uproar.
"......"
Disease strikes without discrimination.
Even Tristy's lord, Porto, could not escape it.
One might expect universal grief upon hearing that the lord, who had devoted his life to the territory, had fallen ill—but Haniell felt no such sorrow.
"Father."
She gazed at Porto lying in bed.
The man who had always treated everyone with stern dignity now lay emaciated, eyes closed.
"Is that you, Haniell?"
"Yes."
Unlike Porto, Haniell brimmed with vitality.
Unlike her usual frail state, strength filled her voice, and she showed no signs of coughing.
"Have you recovered...?"
"Not completely, but I've improved tremendously."
"Good. That's a relief...."
Their positions had completely reversed.
Porto's once-vibrant life was flickering out, while Haniell—looking healthy as she had in childhood—held a private audience with her father.
"Is it a relief because your daughter has recovered from her illness, Father? Or because, now that Esther has left the mansion, a talented successor worthy of the family head position has regained her health?"
"......"
"Probably the latter. That's the kind of man you are."
Haniell's eyes were icy.
She harbored no fondness for the father who had abandoned Esther—bullied relentlessly by her siblings since childhood—as the rightful fate of an untalented child.
From the outset, once it became clear there was no cure for Haniell's illness, her father's interest in his daughter had vanished in an instant.
Haniell knew better than anyone just how ruthless he was.
"It's thanks to Esther."
"......"
"The sister you deemed incompetent cured me. And not just me. She saved Tristy from the Polar Anomaly—furthermore, she made an immense contribution to the entire kingdom, elevating Tristy's prestige. That person is Esther."
Haniell produced the medicine.
It was the antibiotics and mana suppressants recently distributed across the eastern kingdom by the Blue Mage Tower's mages.
The designer of this medicine was none other than Esther.
She found the situation absurd.
Esther—who had known nothing but misery in the family her whole life—was now the savior of Tristy Autonomous Region and her father. What irony.
"I hope it fills you with shame, Father."
Haniell stared at the silent Porto, her thoughts churning.
As a father, he was the worst.
As a lord, he had utterly failed when it came to choosing a successor.
"I resent you, Father. Couldn't you simply love your child? What does 'ability' even mean? What does 'talent' matter? Under the guise of competition, you justified discrimination and conflict. Esther grew up crying constantly within the family. That's a scar she'll carry forever."
Haniell's fists trembled violently.
"......"
"It's a sickness of the heart that won't heal easily, even with endless apologies. Yet you couldn't muster a single apology to Esther before telling her to inherit the family, to become the successor—such utter nonsense...."
Biting her lip to swallow her rage, she set the medicine down.
"It's the medicine the doctor brought. Take it thirty minutes after breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
Haniell let out a sigh.
"It's medicine made by Esther. Of course, not for your sake. She made it to help countless people. But."
At the very least, if Porto possessed any shred of humanity, she urged him to offer Esther a sincere apology.
That was basic decency—the hallmark of a true lord. She no longer expected him to act like a father.
"I'm leaving the mansion to follow Esther. Now you can pick between Uriel and Zephyr without the hassle of those tests."
Finally, Haniell informed him that Porto was the one who had ruined Felix and Kenneth, then departed the room.
Left alone, Porto stared at the medicine.
After Haniell left, he clutched the vial, lost in thought for a long while.
"Yes."
Regret now changed nothing.
He had lived solely for the territory—and he would spend his remaining days the same way.
He was too cold-blooded for pointless sentimentality.
Perhaps it stemmed from the blood-soaked succession war he endured before becoming family head.
Porto's mind was already shattered when it came to others' emotions.
An ethics against needless death was his sole remaining restraint.
Even his current resolve to apologize to Esther and make amends wasn't born of genuine remorse.
It was simply because antagonizing such a brilliant genius—and her family—would jeopardize the future.
He swallowed the medicine and closed his eyes.
Porto sensed his consciousness slowly drifting away.
"Sleep well, Father."
A voice echoed through the room.
A woman's voice.
Not Haniell's.
"Sweet dreams... forever."
With those words, Porto plunged into eternal slumber.
***
The Blue Mage Tower mages were remarkably efficient.
As expected of the elite among mages, slackers were rare, and mistakes almost nonexistent.
Most were deeply fascinated by the medicine I had created.
Answering their endless questions every day has left my throat aching lately.
Anyway.
In addition to the medicine, I drafted quarantine protocols and sent them to the lords.
Isolate symptomatic individuals for a week. Avoid going out whenever possible. Wash your hands thoroughly. That sort of thing.
The press covered it too, making it as accessible as possible, but I doubt everyone will comply.
Still, better than nothing.
The real stroke of luck: the plague had only spread in the eastern kingdom.
I worried it might hit the capital too at first, but whether the residents there have unusually robust immunity, or the princess avoided all contact during her outing, or some other factor was at play, it hasn't spread beyond the east yet.
"Hmm."
At any rate, distribution of the antibiotics and suppressants was proceeding smoothly.
"The supply's a tad short, but we should be able to cover it somehow!"
"I just got word from a merchant—the medicine's working wonders. Tons of patients are improving. One fellow with an infected family member was ecstatic; the spots faded, and color returned to their face. Haha!"
The mood was upbeat.
Many mages swelled with pride at saving lives, and mass production showed no issues.
Now, the mages handled everything flawlessly without my oversight—I could trust them completely.
'Alright, then.'
I addressed Noctias.
"Tower Master."
"Yes? What is it? Don't tell me you're finally up for an in-depth discussion on magic...."
No, that wasn't it.
"I need to step away for a bit. Should be fine without me, right?"
"Ah, yes...."
Noctias nodded, visibly disappointed.
Even from this grandma—who looked as youthful as a child—I occasionally sensed the same sticky, lascivious obsession that Erfs directed at me.
Best to stay cautious.
"But why the sudden departure?"
I nodded.
"Urgent business back home."
"Ah, got it."
Noctias assented promptly.
She offered to teleport me straight to Tristy territory.
With the plague afflicting Tristy Autonomous Region, she'd assume that was the reason—but it wasn't.
Dalpi reported on Haniell's condition weekly via communication orb, so this wasn't about sudden worry for my sister.
The true cause was the letter from brother Zephyr.
『Your intuition was spot on, little brother.』
『Sister Uriel was colluding with terrorists.』
It had been little more than a hunch, but evidently correct.
"Then, I'm counting on you."
I rose, my face set in grim resolve.