The Nursing Event
I’d wondered if a caregiving event might happen. If I’d known it would turn out like this, I should’ve told her not to enter the duel. “The winner is Violet… huh?”
The professor who was about to announce the result trailed off with a short question at the sight of her. Technically, since her opponent collapsed first, her victory would still be recorded—but that wasn’t what mattered right now.
“What are you all standing around for?! Take her to the infirmary and get her treated immediately!”
I had been waiting on edge, half-expecting this exact moment, so I rushed out onto the dueling grounds and shouted at everyone. If the forgotten saintess—the school nurse—couldn’t help her in this state, no one could.
“My lady, are you all right?”
Her eyelids fluttered open just a fraction, and I hurried to ask. “Nngh… ugh…” She mumbled something, then lost consciousness again. Damn it. This looked worse than I’d feared.
“Ah, shit…!”
I scooped her up and sprinted toward the infirmary. It wasn’t far; we’d make it. “Wait! We can treat her—!” The on-site healers tried to stop me, but I ignored them. They couldn’t affect her recovery anyway.
This incident had clarified my priorities. The Demon King, the medicine, the family head—none of them came first. Her chronic illness did.
***
Every second felt like a minute. Every minute like an hour. Time stretched into what felt like an eternity, and my stomach twisted like I was doing triple axels on a bed of nails. Yet the only sound was the occasional weary sigh from the nurse behind the curtain. The clock I had stared at thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of times kept spinning its hands in a lonely race.
How long had it been? The curtain around the bed was suddenly pulled aside, and a woman with sweat streaming down her face stepped out.
“How is she? Is she any better?” I grabbed the nurse’s arm, unable to wait any longer.
“She’s stabilized for now, so don’t worry. She’ll wake up soon.”
Our forgotten saintess gave me a knowing smile and gently pushed me back. Ah… she really was divine. While I offered a silent, reverent thanks, she wiped her face with a handkerchief and flopped into a chair, tension leaving her body. Then she teased me with a playful grin.
“You carried her here yourself. You two must be pretty close. Is she your girlfriend?”
Even when exhausted, her mischievous personality was exactly like in the game. I gave a light denial.
“Haha… No, we’re just master and butler.”
“Oh my… really? At your age, too…” She chuckled and poked my waist, as if she hadn’t quite heard me—or had chosen not to. “You two seemed way too close for that. I mean, what kind of master calls her butler’s name in her sleep~?”
“…Do you know my name?”
She nodded confidently, as if it were obvious. “Sebastian, right? Your master was calling for you so desperately… Context clues, you know!”
…Had she not considered it might be a parent or fiancé? I couldn’t understand how hearing the name “Sebastian” alone led her straight to me.
“Is that what’s really going on? A secret romance between a ducal lady and her butler? You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“It’s not like that…”
The nurse was approaching thirty, and she clearly had a soft spot for young love stories. I decided to graciously let it slide.
“Your face just did something weird… You weren’t cursing me in your head, were you?”
“No, of course not.”
All I wanted now was for her to leave so I could check on Violet. “Ah, did I interrupt your lovers’ reunion? Sorry about that.”
We weren’t lovers, but she’d only just realized that? I’d never understood why such a beautiful woman had never dated by thirty, but watching her now, it finally made sense.
This person has zero tact…!
“Hehe, well then, enjoy your time together.”
As she turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder. “Oh, and even if you do, make sure you use protection, all right?”
“What the hell are you saying?!”
Why did everyone keep jumping to conclusions like this? And even if we were going to do something, would we really do it in the academy infirmary?! More importantly, was a former saintess even allowed to say things like that?
Having been humiliated twice by the same person, I buried my face in my hands and waited for the burning embarrassment to fade.
“Sebastian… are you out there…?”
Her voice drifted from behind the curtain. I hoped she hadn’t heard that last remark.
“Yes, I’m right here! May I come in?”
She hesitated for a moment, then gave a soft, barely audible reply. “Mm… yeah.”
“Are you feeling any better now? Is there anywhere that still hurts?”
When I stepped inside and asked, she smiled faintly and patted the chair beside the bed. “I’m fine… That sister’s pretty skilled, actually. Standing around will just make you uncomfortable, so sit down.”
Violet, worrying about someone else and smiling like that—it was rare. Maybe she noticed my stare, or maybe she felt embarrassed by her own clumsy grin, because she pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“It’s not because I was thinking about you, so don’t get the wrong idea…! I just didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so I was bored…”
“Of course. Please speak freely.”
I pulled the chair closer and sat by her bedside. She hesitated, then spoke in a slightly trembling voice.
“You’re the one who carried me here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
I felt a pang of guilt. If I had stopped her from dueling—or at least warned her—this never would have happened.
“…Don’t blame yourself. No butler could have stopped this. Just getting me here means you’ve done more than enough.”
It was the kind of line I would normally tease her about, but I had no desire to joke. I had come here to protect her, yet I had been too careless.
“You might not know this, but I have an old illness. A disease that makes my whole body break down a little whenever I use too much strength…”
Mana Retardation. A condition where the mana in her body couldn’t flow properly. If she forced herself to use mana—the very substance that fueled magic—while suffering from it, her body would deteriorate. Eventually, even basic metabolic functions controlled by mana would become difficult. And in the end…
“I don’t even know when it got this bad. One day it just worsened, and now I might die. I’m… a little scared.”
Violet had tried everything to overcome this illness. Anything within her power, wealth, and information network—she had searched for it, experimented with it. Medicines, bizarre treatments, every possible method. Nothing had worked.
Of course it hadn’t.
Mana Retardation was a disease created by the Plague Demon King Laplace and spread to a select few.
“I must look pathetic, lashing out at others just because my body’s falling apart…”
…This caregiving event wasn’t supposed to happen yet. In the original story, it only occurred much later, after Violet’s body had weakened significantly and the player had built enough affection and given her enough praise. But right now, she seemed far more ill and lonely than she had been in Starlight.
“Sebastian, do you know what people call me?”
Violet—no, Violet—spoke as if we had been close friends for years. She reached out and clasped my hand tightly, as if afraid I might leave.
“What do they… call you, my lady?”
Her grip was desperate. Perhaps the long years of solitude had finally caught up with her, or maybe the pain, the medicine, and the exhaustion had left her half-delirious. Or perhaps… she was truly opening her heart to me.
“They call me… the Floyd family’s failure.”
She looked at me with eyes that seemed to hold every painful thought she had ever had, tears trembling at the corners.
“…My lady. No—Violet.”
Seeing her like that, I felt something inside me tear open. She reminded me of myself at the funeral, sobbing as if the world were ending. I didn’t want her to feel that same crushing despair.
That… I can’t let that happen.
Who had I saved? Who had saved me? Who had pulled me back from that sinking world and returned me to reality? How had I lived? How had I survived?
Violet Floyd.
The answer had always been her. This story of mine, aside from its torn prologue, had been filled with her from beginning to end. Even as death loomed, her warm hand—clinging to life and reaching for someone—transmitted its gentle heat through my skin. Her faint breaths, carrying the will to survive, brushed against my ears like they once had in my own past.
“Violet Floyd, you are not a failure. Even if you were… I’ll make sure you aren’t.”
Before I knew it, I had pulled her into my arms and was crying with her.