Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: True Feelings in the Sickroom
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“Your Grace!”
Roselia bolted down the corridor, tossing all pretense and decorum aside.
She could hear Leonier’s ragged breathing trailing behind her, but she didn’t have a moment to glance back.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach.
The man who’d been striding around just fine, tossing out snarky remarks moments ago, had suddenly vomited blood and collapsed.
‘No way. His color was a bit off, sure, but he wasn’t staggering like he was about to drop dead any second…!’
She’d caught a glimpse of his face right before fleeing, and it hadn’t looked half bad.
A little pale, maybe, but warmth had clearly been slowly returning to his cheeks at the thought of seeing Seria soon.
So why all of a sudden…!
‘W-Wait… could it be?’
They’d been too far away to catch more than a vague glimpse of Noxion and Archaíos conversing in the dragon’s lair.
She hadn’t heard the actual conversation.
Just fragments like “curse” and “regret”… Had the dragon dumped some kind of curse on him then?
As wild, ominous imaginings tore through her mind, she found herself not at the office, but at the door to the duke’s bedroom.
Knight who’d already heard the news stood guard at the door, but they hurriedly stepped aside at the sight of Roselia and Leonier.
Bang—!
Roselia kicked the door open without knocking.
“Your Grace! Are you oka… y…?”
But the scream that nearly burst from her lips as she charged inside trailed off into nothing.
The room was far too serene for what she’d imagined.
She’d pictured the bed surrounded by blood, doctors frantically performing CPR or something equally dire.
This was the complete opposite.
Noxion was propped up against fluffy pillows, half-reclining. Beside him, Seria was deftly swapping out his damp cloth with practiced hands.
His face was pale, yes, but he didn’t look like a patient on the brink of death.
If anything, he frowned at the two women who’d burst in so noisily.
“…You’ll break the door. Princess—er, Roselia.”
His voice was a bit hoarse, but it carried the usual low, steady timbre full of quiet strength.
Roselia’s legs nearly gave out, threatening to dump her right there on the floor.
Leoner, who’d followed her in, clutched the doorframe and heaved for breath, hand over her chest.
“Haa… haa… Thank goodness… really, thank goodness…”
The attending physician, packing up his bag by the bedside, finally noticed the two and bowed politely.
“Your Highness, Lady Baldinmar. You’ve arrived.”
“Doctor! How’s His Grace? We heard he vomited blood…”
Roselia demanded urgently.
The physician adjusted his glasses and explained in a calm tone.
“Nothing to worry about overly much. He did cough up blood, true, but it’s not from something severe like organ rupture or poison.”
“Then what? Why did he collapse so suddenly?”
“Well… it seems to be aftermath from the expedition. Extreme fatigue accumulated from prolonged combat and travel, then sudden exposure to an unidentified surge of mana—it looks like his mana circuits went into temporary shock.”
“Mana… shock?”
“Yes. The chest pain he reported is my guess, but I suspect it’s tied to a sudden mana backlash. Even a Sword Master would strain under prolonged exposure to high-density mana environments.”
The physician’s explanation rang true enough.
Besides, Roselia already knew Noxion had struck some deal with the dragon, so she figured that unidentified mana surge was Archaíos’s power.
‘Phew, yeah, that makes sense. The guy treating dragon’s plague like a shiny new robot toy from Dad—no way he’d kick the bucket already.’
She let out a sigh of relief, her startled heart finally settling.
The physician slung his bag over his shoulder and added,
“Fortunately, he’s stabilized now. No excessive mana use, though—absolutely forbidden. He needs to stay in bed without moving for at least a day. He’ll be back to normal by morning.”
“…Thank you, Doctor. You’ve done so much.”
“Not at all. Please, Your Highness, don’t worry too much and help him rest. I’ll take my leave.”
The physician left, and the door clicked shut.
Now the room held only Noxion in bed, Seria tending him, and Roselia and Leonier standing awkwardly.
An odd silence settled in.
The Northern ruler at the center, surrounded by the regressor, the possessor pretending to be his fiancée, and his loyal aide-slash-almost-lover Seria.
A lineup that would have romance novel readers grabbing popcorn—but the mood wasn’t right for that now.
Seria broke the silence first.
With her usual impassive face, she pulled a chair closer to the bedside.
“Don’t just stand there, both of you. Come sit. His Grace wants to talk.”
“Ah, right… okay.”
Roselia and Leonier cautiously approached and sat in the chairs by the bedside table.
Up close, Noxion’s face looked even more drained of color, ghostly white.
Gone was his usual ironclad image; instead, a strangely fragile, ethereal beauty emanated from him. Roselia swallowed dryly without realizing.
‘Wow… sick and he’s still this stunning? His looks are insane.’
She admired his features—rivaling even the crown prince’s—for a moment before snapping back, adopting a grave, worldly-worried expression.
“Your Grace… are you really okay? You have no idea how shocked I was when I heard.”
“It’s nothing. A maid who found me first just made a fuss.”
I answered as calmly as possible, averting my gaze, but inwardly I was breaking out in cold sweat.
The physician’s mana shock diagnosis had let me dodge an explanation crisis, but the pain I’d just endured had no real tie to the expedition, no matter how I sliced it.
A heart-wrenching agony, like it was being crushed in a vise.
It was unmistakably the curse’s outburst Archaíos had warned me about.
‘One year… terminal, he said. Wasn’t kidding.’
Death’s terror felt viscerally real now, creeping closer—but I didn’t let it show.
I couldn’t show weakness to the three women before me.
Especially not Seria.
If she learned I was on borrowed time, I couldn’t even imagine how much this dear woman would fret, how sleepless her nights would be.
“I’m sorry… it’s not because of me that you pushed yourself, is it…?”
Then Leonier, sitting beside me, spoke in a trembling voice.
Her eyes were fixed on Noxion’s pale hand.
Her face looked ready to burst into tears again any second.
Of course, I had no clue why the lady wore that expression, so I just scratched my brow awkwardly.
A woman I’d had zero connection with kept shooting me those earnest, soulful looks—it left me at a loss every time.
But this time, her gaze wasn’t just burdensome.
“Not your fault, my lady. My own failing. Don’t make that face.”
I offered what softness I could muster in my voice.
Seria, wringing a cloth nearby, narrowed her eyes and chided me.
“Save your words, Your Grace. The doctor said rest is priority. And you needn’t blame yourself, my lady. His Grace collapsed because…”
Seria glared steadily at my left arm as she continued.
“…despite that massive wound, he didn’t rest but pushed through with work.”
“…Seria, isn’t that a bit much in front of a patient? You’re hurting my feelings.”
“That’s why I’m saying it. Use this bed rest to reflect.”
At Seria’s firm stance, I shut my mouth.
The scene was so much like a little brother getting scolded by his big sister that Roselia nearly burst out laughing.
‘What charisma… No wonder she snagged the principal wife spot over the lady, even with the duke’s choice. I get it now.’
The heavy air lightened considerably thanks to Seria.
Roselia seized the mood and chimed in.
“Exactly, Seria’s right a hundred times over. You don’t take care of yourself at all, Your Grace. After this, I should have some tonic brewed for you. I glimpsed the imperial warehouse before fleeing, and there was…”
“…I’ll take the thought. Your Highness, whatever that medicine is, I have a feeling it’d turn me into a monster instead of a man.”
Her chilling suggestion broke my composure entirely; I shook my head in open disgust.
At Roselia’s quirky proposal, a faint smile tugged at Leonier’s lips too.
Even in this scene of patient and visitors, the sight of the three women surrounding me felt surprisingly peaceful.
So I closed my eyes for a moment, sensing their presences guarding my side.
Leoner, always watching me with those inexplicable, worried expressions.
Seria, fussing even as she tucked the blankets meticulously.
And Roselia, chattering away to brighten the mood, her thoughts a mystery.
‘…Noisy bunch.’
But I didn’t dislike the racket.
The curse’s vise on my heart seemed—just a little—to loosen.
Hiding my tangled emotions beneath my closed lids, I decided to surrender to this tranquility for a while.
There were still plenty of stories I wanted to tell… and hear… or so I was thinking.
When the commotion broke, surprisingly, from the quietest one: Leonier.
She clenched and unclenched her hands on her lap, then as if resolved, her lips moved.
“Um… Your Grace.”
“Speak, my lady.”
“If it’s not too rude… could I have a moment alone with you?”
The room’s air seemed to freeze at her words.
Seria’s hands halted mid-swap of the damp cloth; Roselia’s eyes went wide, lost in her own thoughts.
Seria reacted instantly.
“My lady. His Grace needs rest now. Long conversations…”
“It won’t take long. I just… have something I absolutely need to confirm. Please.”
Her voice shook, but her eyes burned with unwavering sincerity.
A gaze desperate yet brimming with conviction.
Curiosity stirred in me at that look.
What on earth could make her so resolute?
“…Very well. Seria, Roselia. Give us the room?”
“But Your Grace…”
“It’s fine. I could use a breather too. Just a light chat.”
At my assent, Seria set the cloth down without protest.
“Understood. I’ll wait outside. Don’t overdo it.”
“Uh… guess I’ll step out too. Enjoy your cozy talk!”
Roselia hopped up quick on the uptake, shooting Leonier a wink whose meaning utterly escaped her.