Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Devoted Nursing
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As breakfast time arrived, the sound of trolley wheels came rolling in. Nihil didn't step out onto the terrace this time. Instead, he meticulously tucked in the canopy draped around the bed before wriggling under the covers.
Sir Evan, who had been watching him, clicked his tongue and headed out of the bedroom to pull the trolley in himself.
Unlike last night's dinner, it was a simple spread—just one modest tray.
Once the maid had left, Nihil peeked out from under the blanket, scanned the prepared meal, then poked at Lianus's cheek, who was sleeping beside him. When poking didn't rouse him after a while, he stretched out the soft cheek.
Sir Evan, watching, freaked out and jumped back, but he clamped his mouth shut at the faint groan from Lianus.
Lianus's brow furrowed bit by bit, and soon his eyelids lifted to reveal mismatched irises like translucent marbles. Seeing the weak blinks, Nihil carefully propped up Lianus's head and leaned it against the bedhead.
"Nil..."
Lianus called to Nihil. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. Despite the pain, he grinned broadly for some reason.
Nihil pressed the spout of a small teapot filled with warm water to Lianus's lips and helped him drink. Once he confirmed Lianus had finished, Nihil hopped down from the bed, placed the teapot back on the trolley, grabbed the prepared soup and spoon, then clambered back onto the bed and settled beside Lianus.
For some incomprehensible reason, Lianus grinned broadly again.
Nihil scooped up some soup, blew on it to cool it, and fed it to Lianus little by little. He tore the bread into small pieces, let it soak thoroughly in the soup, then fed that too.
When Lianus started fumbling beside him as if searching for something, Nihil quickly tucked the bear doll into his arms.
"Surprisingly skilled, aren't you."
Sir Evan, who had been watching impassively from the side, remarked in admiration as he saw Lianus clutching the bear doll tight. Though it didn't show on his face, he was genuinely impressed by Nihil's efficient, meticulous caregiving.
Sir Evan had nearly chased him out in horror when Nihil yanked the prince's cheek, but everything after that had been so deft and gentle that he prided himself on his restraint.
He'd wondered at first why Nihil bothered transferring water into that tiny teapot, but he got it when Nihil held it up to feed the prince directly from the spout. Simple, yet ingenious.
Commoners drank from spouts all the time, but after becoming a royal knight surrounded by nobles and royals, all the fuss about dining etiquette and tea ceremony manners must have stiffened his thinking.
Sir Evan recalled how he'd insisted on using a cup to feed his sick little sister, only to spill half of it. He resolved to try this trick himself.
He'd have to find a small, cute, lightweight teapot she could handle alone and gift it to his frail sibling.
"...I've raised a sick kid before."
The calm voice caught Sir Evan off guard; he had to puzzle out its meaning for a moment before realizing it was a reply to his comment.
So, he had a sick sibling. "Raised" instead of just "cared for"—did that mean the kid had passed away?
Sir Evan thought of his own little sister, bedridden now. Born so fragile she'd scarcely left the bed since birth, she was just ten years old—ten whole years younger than him.
It hit him that he hadn't seen her in a full week already. Once the prince recovered, he'd have to visit.
By now, Nihil had finished feeding the prince his soup and slyly slipped in the medicine disguised as more soup. It must have been potent; even in his dazed state, the prince's brow creased deeply.
Sir Evan watched Nihil gently lay the prince back down, then pointed to the two soft white rolls still on the trolley.
"You eat too."
The little wildcat seemed to turn feral when hungry, so better to fill his belly preemptively before he bothered the prince.
"No need. You eat it."
"Don't starve and torment the prince. Eat."
"I stuffed myself yesterday. Good for a week."
"......"
So that's why he'd gorged like that yesterday—a whole week's worth in one go.
Sir Evan let out an incredulous snort, twisting one corner of his mouth.
"Cut the nonsense and eat. You planning to starve for a week in the palace? And don't go feral on the prince even if you do."
Nihil shot Sir Evan a lazy glare as if he were too bothersome to deal with, sighed, snatched a white roll, and crammed it into his mouth.
Then he casually brushed off his hands and wriggled back into the bed.
"Might as well make it your bed."
Sir Evan bit into the remaining roll and pulled the trolley out of the bedroom. He grabbed a passing servant, handed off the trolley, and mentally reviewed the prince's schedule for the day.
Time to go notify the instructors of his absence.
Sir Evan had exactly three people in the royal palace he never wanted to run into.
One was Queen Helia, one was her son Prince Lawrence, and the last was the queen's father—the 1st Prince's maternal grandfather and the princes' swordsmanship instructor, Duke Calor Tesaurus.
And on his way back from notifying the prince's instructors, Sir Evan bumped into two of those three.
"Your Highness the Queen and 1st Prince."
No reply came to Sir Evan's greeting. Just the two pairs of crimson eyes scanning him thoroughly.
Sir Evan hesitated. Looking down brought the 1st Prince into view; looking up brought the queen's deceptively gentle, drooping eyes. After agonizing, he settled on directing his gaze slightly more toward the 1st Prince. He knew all too well how vicious and cruel that seemingly mild queen could be.
She'd sliced open her own belly to forcibly extract her unborn child just because she hated the idea of her kid calling a consort's brat "Older Brother."
They said she'd survived a brush with death, but the one who actually died was Natura Consort—the half-elf who bore the 2nd Prince—while she lived on, perfectly fine, wandering the palace. It was disheartening beyond words.
After a long silence, the two pairs of crimson eyes curved into smiles in eerily perfect unison.
"Sir Evan, it's been a while."
The 1st Prince spoke first, in a leisurely, relaxed tone. Polite and affable to everyone, he enjoyed high popularity in the palace—yet he never used honorifics with his own brother, the 2nd Prince.
As if he were lower than mere servants.
The 1st Prince never dirtied his own hands, manipulating everything around him with his long, forked tongue. Young as he was, he excelled at concealing emotions and crafting expressions.
The polar opposite of the 2nd Prince, who was always honest and hopeless at hiding anything.
"Yes."
Sir Evan had seen the 1st Prince just yesterday at the duke's mansion, but not wanting to prolong the talk, he didn't correct him and replied curtly. A petty protest for making their baby kitten cry with his subtle bullying.
"I heard my brother is ill. Please convey my hopes for his swift recovery."
Sir Evan flinched.
He'd just announced the 2nd Prince's absence for illness—how did the 1st Prince know already? He hadn't even mentioned the prince was sick.
"I'll pass it on. Take care."
"Sending me away so soon? How disappointing."
"My apologies. I can't leave the 2nd Prince alone for long."
"Ah, right—you're my brother's one and only guard knight."
The young serpent smiled slyly. Sir Evan's eyes darkened further.
He knew the Tesaurus family had pressured the royal knights. It made sense; no knight could defy the kingdom's sole Swordmaster.
But threatening volunteers for the 2nd Prince's guard or staging "accidents" to kill them off? That was on orders from this little snake.
"My brother must be thrilled to have you as his guard knight."
Sir Evan's mood soured; he made no reply. He bowed once more and turned toward the 2nd Prince's palace.
Back at the 2nd Prince's palace, Sir Evan didn't enter the bedroom. He simply stood guard silently by the door. No sounds came from beyond, suggesting neither the prince nor the wildcat had stirred yet.
A few maids came up to clean the bedroom, but he sent them all away, instructing no one to ascend to the fifth floor without his direct summons.
Unable to hide his irritation, Sir Evan lightly punched the wall. His foul mood since encountering the 1st Prince and queen lingered. It felt like flailing in deep swamp muck.
Even trying to think of something positive only etched those crimson eyes deeper into his mind.
He had no idea where word of the prince's illness had leaked. He'd only told the kitchens to prepare soft foods since the prince had overeaten last night—never mentioned sickness.
How long had he been lost in thought? Suddenly, a knock—knock—from behind him. Sir Evan, who hadn't sensed a thing, startled badly.
Another knock on the bedroom door.
The prince wouldn't knock, so it had to be the wildcat.
What a disgrace for a guard knight to miss every sign while deep in thought. Sir Evan shoved it all aside and opened the door.
At eye level—down low—a snow-white wildcat glared up with flashing black eyes, face full of displeasure, half-lidded gaze lazy and sharp.
Sir Evan spat flatly.
"What."
"Keep barking."
This brat?