Chapter 867
Chapter 867
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 867
Chapter Title: Cliché Drama (5)
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1.
The Jemernai Countess's estate, situated in the prime district of Ars Magna Town, was often likened to a palace in scale.
Its grounds—complete with a lake, sprawling gardens, numerous buildings, and a variety of facilities—rivaled the size of a small village.
Even with the conveniences of magic, keeping a mansion of this magnitude in pristine condition required servants. The countess's household had always employed around fifty of them on a permanent basis.
The person overseeing and managing this large staff was none other than Head Maid Galina.
Her official title was just head maid, but she effectively served as a steward, handling everything from mansion maintenance and operations to financial management and cash disbursements.
Albreo and Deneb could leave the estate with peace of mind precisely because they had Galina—the loyal and wise old woman.
"Vera, wipe those tears and go fetch Miss Smirna, please."
"Y-yes... sniff!"
"Come now, every moment counts. Hurry."
She kept her emotions hidden and issued calm instructions in front of Vera, but her heart was anything but settled.
Albreo and Galina shared far more than a simple mistress-servant relationship.
Their bond, which dated back to Galina's girlhood, was so deep that she'd even served as nursemaid to Odil and Odet.
When the twins were still newborns, she'd provided invaluable help. Even during their adolescence, her sage advice had guided their upbringing.
She was family, plain and simple.
Albreo bit her lip tightly as she pushed open the door to the sickroom.
Galina, who had been lying in bed, tried to sit up the moment she saw Albreo.
"My lady. I've shown you such an unseemly sight."
"It's fine. Don't strain yourself—just lie back down, Galina."
Knowing full well she'd actually get up otherwise, Albreo hurried to her side, took her hand, and tucked the blanket around her.
"What happened? How are you feeling?"
"Heavens... Serving a mistress as lovely as ever, even after all these years, must've made me think I'd stay young forever—maybe for a century or a millennium. Turns out pushing myself like I did in my youth led to this mess. Cough! Cough!"
Galina chuckled between bouts of coughing.
"I got greedy, thinking this might be my last harvest festival I'd prepare myself... They say overreaching brings disaster, and those ancient sages weren't wrong about a thing, were they?"
"Slowly, slowly—take it easy, Galina."
"I heard my grandmother served the countess's house into her eighties... And here I am, already in such a pitiful state. What a disgrace... Cough! Cough!"
"None of that talk. Recovery comes first. I've summoned Gehenna's finest physician—they'll be here soon."
The deep wrinkles on her face now made the once-vibrant woman look utterly exhausted.
Her hair, hastily tied up, was filled with undyed gray strands, and the skin on the back of her hands sagged without any elasticity, like loose hide draped over bone.
The Galina in Albreo's memories had been a spirited young girl,
a sharp and resolute maiden,
and a seasoned matron who could handle the mansion's affairs blindfolded.
Time's passage was mercilessly swift for humans.
Albreo pressed her heated eyelids with the back of her cool hand.
"Is the patient here?"
Yebin Smirna entered, her hair a tousled mess from being roused in the dead of night.
2.
"How is she?"
Standing outside the sickroom, Albreo asked in a voice thick with anxiety.
"Acute pneumonia. Overwork seems to have spread her preexisting bronchial inflammation into the lung tissue."
"Will she be all right?"
"Yes. We've caught it early, so it shouldn't worsen. Still, she needs plenty of rest and recuperation."
Yebin might not yet bear the title of Grand Witch, but she was an authority on healing magic. No other witch surpassed her when it came to treating humans.
Albreo breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn't fully ease her mind.
"She was never like this before."
Galina had been the picture of robustness—a woman who could hoist logs with ease or wrestle a bear barehanded.
It was hard to believe that someone who'd never even caught a cold would collapse from illness, especially seeing her aged like this.
"Considering the patient's age, we should be extra cautious. Please insist on complete bed rest."
"Thank you, Miss Smirna. If your clinic needs anything, just say the word. I'll provide whatever support I can."
"No need, Countess. I'm always in your debt as it is."
Yebin bowed politely and turned to leave, but hesitated midway.
"Countess, I hesitate to mention this..."
"Speak freely."
"It might turn out to be nothing."
"......"
Being too perceptive wasn't always a blessing.
Albreo realized Yebin wasn't about to deliver good news.
Steeling herself, she nodded slowly. Only then did Yebin speak cautiously.
"Human lifespans are unpredictable in many ways. Innate differences vary greatly, and environment plays a huge role too. It's hard to say for certain, but separate from this pneumonia... Galina doesn't have much time left."
"...I see. So, roughly how long?"
"If she stops working immediately and gets the best care? Around two years, give or take."
Albreo steadied her wobbling legs and nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. Sorry to drag you out so late."
"Of course, Countess."
Once Yebin had gone, Albreo reentered the sickroom.
Galina had drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the treatment, her eyes closed.
Her expression was serene now, unlike before, but an undeniable weariness lingered.
"......"
If humans had souls, perhaps they took shape within the mold of the body?
Albreo recalled a notion she'd pondered before.
As a girl, a youthful soul;
as a maiden, a vibrant one;
in middle age and old age, souls that matched those stages.
That was why witches, whose aging halted in their early twenties, retained a childish air no matter their years—while humans, with just seventy-odd years of life, gained profound wisdom like trees marked by annual rings.
The retainers who'd served the Jemernai Countess's house until time caught up, becoming one with the stars.
Each time she thought of them, Albreo's musing edged closer to conviction.
Galina was no different.
Once seeming impossibly young, by the time the twins became apprentices, she'd offered much-needed counsel to Albreo and Deneb, who had faltered as mothers.
She'd masterfully soothed the endlessly energetic Odil and Odet, and straightened them out when adolescence turned them rebellious.
That's why Albreo wanted her to witness the succession above all else.
The glorious moment when Odil and Odet became proper witches and carried on the Jemernai name.
Yebin's estimate of just over two years likely assumed ideal conditions and top-tier care.
Yet the twins still had three years until succession.
Could they make it in time?
"......"
Farewell.
A inevitable product one never grew accustomed to, no matter how many times it came.
Before long, Odil and Odet would have to prepare for parting from Deneb and Albreo.
Twenty years was ample time to love.
But not enough to love without regrets, to one's heart's content.
Yet for apprentices born under a master's seal, it was an unavoidable fate.
Having received the brand from their teacher, apprentice witches stepped forward to achieve their destined feats, treading over loss and cherishing brief memories.
Just as Albreo and Deneb had.
Just as their master had.
Just as their master's master had.
Was it the inertia of tradition? Or simply the most rational path?
Pitying the system, Albreo had never once questioned the succession structure.
She'd viewed it as the price—or duty—of their granted privileges.
'If we had Siu... the twins could succeed without us leaving!'
Deneb's fanciful claim from some time ago resurfaced.
Indeed, through Count Yesod's experiments, Siu's amplification ability had reportedly advanced brand transference beyond theory into practical viability.
At the time, it hadn't swayed her in the slightest.
Alternative successions weren't foolproof; they came with massive penalties.
But accepting as inevitability that she'd leave the twins behind alone...
Was that truly best for Odil and Odet?
"...I've lost my composure a bit."
Albreo shook her head to clear the intrusive thoughts.
3.
The Jemernai Countess's punishment chamber was at the top of the spire—a room so rarely used it was practically nonexistent.
There, Deneb knelt.
The icy chill and uneven stone floor pressed into her knees.
The whip in her hand sliced into her back with a sharp crack.
-Crack! Crack!
Each swing from around her shoulders produced a shrill sound, the implement inflicting excruciating pain with the slightest motion—like a torture device.
It didn't take long for Deneb's skin, clad in ragged linen that barely covered her, to well up with welts. Soon, blood soaked through, staining the hem crimson.
She was atoning through self-flagellation for harboring improper desires here and wounding her daughter because of it.
"......"
Deneb endured the pain with eyes closed, like a devout penitent nun.
"Deneb!"
Albreo, who had come to the punishment chamber upon hearing of Galina's collapse, recoiled in horror at the sight.
Flesh had torn open, dying the hem of her rough garment red. It looked agonizing.
"Stop! Stop it now!"
"Sister, I need to atone."
Even with Albreo there, Deneb kept swinging silently. Unable to watch, Albreo snatched the whip away.
"You think the twins will be happy seeing you like this?"
"Then how can I face them, sister? How dare I ask their forgiveness or say I'm sorry? This is how I repent for my folly."
Deneb's actions were blatant foolishness, pure self-indulgence.
Some might scoff at it as performative atonement.
But Albreo knew how earnest and self-sacrificing Deneb truly was.
Deneb fully intended to wear that ragged cloth, sleep on a pile of stones unfit for a bed, and continue this penance in the frigid closet until succession—all in earnest.
What had driven her to this extreme?
The Jemernais were "two as one," yet she hadn't seriously revisited her little sister's words.
"Deneb."
"......"
"I'll help you. With meeting Siu."
Albreo had made her decision.