Paternity Test (2)
“Say it again. Where did Ras go?”
“H-Hic, hiiiek.”
As Chloe prostrated herself on the floor, trembling violently at Asella's sharp bark, it was like a bolt from the blue for her—something she'd never even imagined.
For the imperial palace's chief physician to leave his lady's side without a word? Unprecedented. Impossible.
“Where do you think you're going without my permission!”
“...His Majesty granted permission for external activities.”
The head maid handed her a document. It bore the unmistakable seal of the Heavenly Palace.
Asella crumpled it in her fist and hurled it away with a smack.
“Bring him back. Now.”
“Your Highness...”
“Now!”
Asella raged like a storm, but her ragged breaths betrayed her—her sympathetic nervous system fired to its limit, body burning hot. She wouldn't even notice if someone jabbed her arm with a syringe right now.
When she opened her eyes that morning, she'd assumed Ras would be there, as always. He was always by her side the day after the pain hit.
Lately, they'd even shared a bed now and then. Falling asleep to his warmth, waking to his face—it had become routine.
But for him to slip away from the palace without a word? Their first true separation since they met and he became her personal physician.
When he'd fallen off that cliff, she'd thought him dead for sure—but she got him back in half a day. This time was different. He had chosen to leave her side. Willingly.
At least a few months without seeing him. Things could go wrong again, like before—putting him in mortal danger, or worse.
A walking blood fountain of a man.
Indescribable anxiety crashed over Asella, synapses drowning in sticky tar, thoughts grinding to a halt.
“Bring him back!!”
She repeated the order like a parrot. The knights couldn't ignore it; one was already reaching for the captain's contact.
“N-No, Your Highness...!”
Chloe crawled across the floor and clung to Asella's leg.
“You.”
Asella's blood ran cold. She bent down, glaring at Chloe. The villainess's fury bore down on the innocent nurse.
“Are you, a mere nurse, daring to question the lady of this palace—the princess herself?”
“The doctor said...! It's important...!”
“You know where the young master went.”
“I-I don't... It's classified. He said since I'm staying behind, it's better if I don't know...”
If Asella really tortured her, Chloe wouldn't hold out. To prevent that, Ras had kept the destination secret.
“But...! It's really, really important! For treating Your Highness...!”
“Shut your mouth.”
Chloe bowed her head at the icy command. Asella suppressed the urge to lash out at her.
She was furious at Ras, not Chloe. Venting on her wouldn't help—and it was obvious.
I want to see him.
The longing for Ras wouldn't fade; it'd only grow thirstier. Her head went blank. Vision narrowed. Had she always been this stupid, this thoughtless?
Thud, thud.
Ignoring the stares of knights and servants, Asella rose from bed in nothing but bare feet and wandered out into the hall.
Habit took her next door. Ras's room. She pushed it open.
The slightly ajar window let in silence—no one there. Vain hope that it was a bad joke, that he'd be waiting, crumbled.
Standing in the center, lips sealed, frozen—then suddenly.
“...Aaaahhh!!”
—KABOOM!
Her scream unleashed mana. The tidy room turned to wreckage in a storm's blink.
Asella collapsed in place.
“...It can't be.”
Not because he hates me. Not because he loathes me and left...
“...It can't be.”
She murmured weakly.
“Oppa, be careful out there.”
As Neria sent a worried glance while I finished prepping for the northernmost expedition, I patted her head—her cheeks puffed out in retaliation.
“I've set up supply routes for if it drags on. Leave it to me.”
Father's support was solid. Two months max, no matter what. Factoring in return to the palace and Asella's surgery, that gave breathing room.
Best case: Thunder Tribe negotiations wrapped in a day.
[No. 101: Mana Rampage 24% → 27%]
Asella's condition was inferable from this. If it spiked critically, I'd abort, Teleport Gate out, and at least get Hugo back.
“But Ras, before that—are you sure you're okay?”
“Yes, what's the matter?”
Father pulled me aside, whispering.
“That paternity confirmation test you developed.”
“Yes.”
“...Wouldn't it be wise for our house to get preemptive certificates? Just in case something comes up later.”
His odd question furrowed my brow. I mulled it, then scolded him.
“Am I some foundling you picked up?”
“No, no, not like that.”
Father flailed his hands in panic, gesturing for quiet.
“Just in case, you know? Just in case. Someone might stir trouble maliciously.”
“If you've nothing to hide, turn any accusation back on them.”
“Well, about that...”
You do have something to hide, huh?
“You're an adult now; was going to tell you around when you have kids.”
Father opened uneasily.
“You know Gotberg bloodline had a saintess generations back.”
“Yes. Ages ago.”
“Great-great-grandmother on your side. She had a son and daughter. Gotberg descends from the son.”
“Hence our innate divine power talent.”
“Yes. But the daughter's line persisted too. Found out tracing the genealogy. Matrilineal, so other nobles or commoners—hard to track fully.”
“Blood thinned out?”
“Mm, effectively severed. Last one was Neria. Mother died; nearly sent to a convent. Couldn't leave her.”
“Hm.”
Father dropped the nuke casually.
“Does Neria know?”
“Brought her as a babe; she doesn't. Had a wet nurse raise her for protection. Thinks the nurse was her real mom.”
“Well, damn.”
Per Father, he and Neria were distant kin—practically strangers. Paternity test would mismatch.
Neria and I weren't half-siblings genetically—we were unrelated.
A huge Gotberg vulnerability. Though only I could uncover it.
“Still, Neria's my little sister.”
“Of course. I see her as blood.”
We agreed. Made sense he'd loved one woman lifelong.
Good she hadn't awakened saintess talent. At her age, running a business? Economic savvy. Heir material.
Hm, who becomes saintess this generation?
“Only Neria from that line?”
“One more. You know her. In the Imperial Medical Office.”
“There?”
“Ambrosia sisters—likely Neria's generation. Need to check genealogy closer.”
No wonder her cheeks feel familiar. Spot on.
As Father and I huddled, footsteps approached.
“Oppa, Father—what's with the fun chat?”
Bored Neria wedged her tiny self between us.
“Done. Just boring talk on inviting relatives next holiday.”
“Really? Never heard much about kin—curious!”
“Just more gifts to buy.”
“Oppa hates exchanges. But it's fun...”
Neria fidgeted, hiding something small.
“Exception for you. Let's see.”
Capital chocolate in my pocket. Unwrapped it; her eyes sparkled as she peeked.
“Mmph!”
Popped it in; anxiety fled, bliss filled her face.
Future saintess always had bitter smiles. Neria suited noble life over battlefields—born lady.
“I have something for Oppa too!”
“What?”
“A talisman against foul energies. Help?”
She offered a pouch of tiny gems. Handmade. Waited for this.
I took it carefully.
“Touching. I'll carry it always.”
“Ehet, yesss!”
“Ready, Doctor.”
Tanya reported. Recent one-on-one with a swordmaster sharpened her poise.
“Let's see.”
Heike's knights: 200, in formation—impressive.
Gotberg healers: 40.
Mercenary adventurer parties (paid gigs): 4 parties, 20 total.
My faction docs, Hugo leading: 12.
I commanded them.
“March out.”