Collateral of the Body (3)
―Frieda! What do you mean you're still at the marquisate? Didn't you say you were leaving for the capital with the Second Princess? I heard you've been bothering the marquis over the gold coins I gave him!
"N-no, that's not…."
Frieda, sitting demurely before the crystal orb, had shrunk into a little ball. It was a recorded video, not a live two-way call, but her cowering posture suggested the duke was one strict father.
―The Third Princess herself sent a letter. We'd just built a friendly rapport with Moonlight Palace, and you're going to ruin it all over a mere ten thousand gold coins? Get back to the estate right now!
Pop. The video cut off, and Frieda pouted her lips.
Asella had dispatched an express messenger bird to the duke, detailing the marquisate's situation. She'd used lofty, archaic phrasing, but it boiled down to: Your daughter's hitting on my fiancé. Have you no sense of propriety?
Three days later, an apologetic reply arrived for Asella, and Frieda must have gotten a message too. That's why Ras had dashed out mid-breakfast to watch her reaction.
"See? I told you."
Asella crowed triumphantly.
"It really was the young lady acting on her own without the duke's knowledge. How did you know?"
"As the mistress of Moonlight Palace, I've been in contact with the duke. He's not the type to deliberately put his benefactor—you—in a tough spot."
She'd already run a full political analysis on the duke. Asella through and through.
"Besides, the duke's waiting on those potion shipments for his knights. Ten thousand gold is just an advance payment. Upsetting me would devalue that, so he has no reason to."
"Wise as ever."
"Naturally."
Frieda, thoroughly chewed out by her father, trudged over like a routed soldier.
"I had no idea Your Highness cherished your personal physician so much. I lacked discernment. My apologies."
"If you get it, then scram. We're done here."
"So heartless. Poor doctor. You've gone and gotten on the princess's bad side."
"You think my doctor is the pitiful one? Ahaha."
Already basking in victory, Asella oozed leisure.
"Ignorance breeds courage, they say—and it fits you perfectly. Young lady, you'll never set eyes on my estate again."
"What does that even mean?"
Frieda grumbled, offered Asella a curt bow, and spun on her heel. Her attendants and guards trailed behind.
Leaving quietly from the marquisate? Ras couldn't ask for better. It was an outcome superior even to drafting a contract. Without Frieda meddling, he could freely manage the ten thousand gold.
"Doctor, you'll need eight thousand more going forward."
"That's the plan. It's meant to last three years with gradual spending, so no rush on procurement."
"I'll handle it. Don't worry about it."
Asella declared confidently. It was reassuring, in its way.
"Ah, Lady Frieda. Heading home already?"
Balduer, passing by with Neria, spotted her and asked.
"Yes, back to the ducal estate. Sorry for the trouble."
"Nonsense. Hosting a lady of such refinement was our honor. …Hm? Tears in your eyes. If I may…."
Balduer offered her his handkerchief. Frieda paused, then slowly accepted it.
"Thanks to the marquis's kindness, I'll leave with nothing but fond memories. Come to think of it, I stayed so comfortably here because you personally looked after everything."
"It was only proper courtesy for a distinguished guest in our home."
"You have such a pleasant way with words. Oh, and Marquis Gotberg—if I may be so bold—didn't you say your wife passed away…?"
"Yes. She fell ill after giving birth to my son."
"How tragic."
"It's fine. Ancient history now."
Frieda stepped closer, stroking Balduer's arm. Uh-oh. The vibe was turning weird.
"Doctor, you just gonna let that slide?"
"No way in hell."
If things got any stranger, he'd personally boot Frieda out. Ras rolled up his sleeves.
Frieda gazed up at Balduer with misty eyes.
"Must be tough on your own. Running a vast marquisate, managing the breeding grounds, raising two children…."
"I have capable retainers to help. And my son now shoulders his responsibilities admirably."
"Still, don't you need a wife to handle high society? What do you say, Marquis?"
Swish. Frieda's fingers trailed over the back of Balduer's hand. No way was Ras letting a crazy stepmom materialize right in front of him. But as he took a step forward, Balduer replied.
"I appreciate the concern, but my heart holds only one woman. I have no intention of taking another wife."
His tone rang with firm resolve. Frieda sensed she couldn't breach it and released his arm, stepping back.
"…I see. Pity."
"Your deep empathy for my situation speaks to your compassion, Lady Frieda."
Did Balduer even realize she'd been flirting? He seemed utterly oblivious, as if women weren't even on his radar.
"How can he be that dense? Frustrating."
"Doctor, is that your line?"
"What?"
It was just a mutter—why was Asella snapping at him?
Frieda sighed sharply through her nose and shook her head. Then her gaze locked onto someone: Neria, standing just behind Balduer.
"Oh my, Miss Neria."
"I'm a girl."
Neria, sensing the ploy, threw up her defenses. But Frieda pressed on with a smile, bending down to meet her eyes.
"Does gender matter? The north is so conservative. Out west…."
"Now, now, Lady Frieda. Allow me to escort you to the teleport gate."
Ras intervened at last, silencing her. He ordered Bruno to hustle her entourage out of the estate immediately.
Watching the procession go, he sidled up to Balduer.
"'One woman in your heart'? Neria and I are half-siblings, you know."
"Er… I'll explain later."
Balduer mumbled evasively and slipped away.
Revising the business plan with Neria took a few more days to finalize. To avoid issues, they'd structured it so Neria held final decision-making authority on operations, with Balduer as advisor only.
She was young, but far more reliable than her father. She studied economics diligently and learned the ropes watching him work. If something proved too tough, she'd report straight to Ras.
Meanwhile, Asella savored her "vacation" in her own way—no lounging about. Messenger birds arrived ten times a day. Post-Frieda, she kept up with reading and magic practice too.
She didn't ease up on pestering Ras, though.
"Doctor, make me some bubble tea."
"Doctor, it's chilly by the window. I'll sleep inside."
"Doctor, let's go for a walk. Come with."
Free from the palace, her energy was boundless. Maybe the healthy diet was too much? Ras regretted it a bit.
"Lying around in broad daylight like this—impossible back at the palace. You wouldn't know; you're always horizontal."
Max, sunbathing in the yard, barked in agreement: Woof!
No time to play with him there. Ras tossed some jerky; the massive dog bolted like a cheetah and snapped it up with a thud, chomping away.
Scratching Max's snowy-white jowls, Ras opened his status window.
'Progress is slowing.'
Alchemy first. Property Change, his mainstay for new drugs, had hit B, but the rest crawled like snails.
At higher mastery, he could brew panaceas. Maybe.
'Probably not before the ending.'
Medicine: A new skill is ready to unlock.
Skill name will be revealed soon.
Beyond [Prescription Issuance] from the prescription route, three more skills were gearing up. Ideally, advanced diagnostics or elite surgeries for medicine. Hugo was struggling to pinpoint Asella's curse; clues were vital. And for excision surgery, emergency skills were essential.
'Gonna open with surgical XP, but opportunities are scarce.'
Surgery was practically illegal here—no cases. Higher surgery rank unlocked advanced kin, but volunteer work stuck to prescriptions and first aid.
'No rush.'
The emperor's endorsement was just spreading medicine. Better to prepare leisurely than botch in haste.
As the sun grew harsh, he rose—then commotion erupted at the entrance.
Loud voices drew him over.
"Just open the gate once! Is that so hard?!"
"This is the Gotberg marquisate estate. No entry without appointment or permit."
Guards were tussling with a man.
"Doctor, shall I check?"
Ras nodded to Tanya.
"Stop causing a scene and leave. This puts us in a bind."
"A life hangs in the balance! I heard the personal physician's here! Please!"
Tanya returned promptly.
"A commoner from the marquisate. Heard you're here and came running. Says a patient's critical."
"Patient."
The word spurred him. Ras strode to the wrought-iron gate, facing the man.
"What's the patient issue?"
"Ah, young master. Sorry for the noise. He wouldn't listen…."
Ras waved off the knight and signaled the commoner. Sweat-drenched—he'd sprinted nonstop.
"Speak. What's wrong with the patient?"
"G-Gotberg doctor! P-please! My wife… she's been in labor over a day and can't deliver!"
He dropped to his knees, pleading.
"Save my wife, I beg you!!"
Dystocia. Ras popped a candy in his mouth and commanded.
"Prepare a carriage. Captain, grab the house-call kit, gown, and fetch Chloe."
"Yes."
"One more thing for the nurse."
"What?"
He stressed it firmly.
"Tell her to prep for surgery."