Chapter 37: Honorary Count Deon Hart (2)
Chapter 37: Honorary Count Deon Hart (2)
For the time being, I held it carefully in my mouth so my cheeks wouldn't puff up too much. Under circumstances where anyone else would have taken offense and turned away, the Duke insisted on greeting me with a genial smile.
"This is our first time meeting face-to-face, isn't it? It's a pleasure, Count Hart. I've heard many rumors."
"......."
"Count?"
Cruel, who had taken a step back the moment the Duke approached, was now boring a scorching glare into me.
Lady Rien's face turned ashen, and the complexions of those around us drained to a sickly pallor as well.
'I know. I know already.'
I'm well aware that some mere honorary count like me was currently leaving a Duke's words unacknowledged!
This was bad. At this rate, I was going to needlessly make another enemy. Even if it tore my throat apart, I had to swallow this and give some kind of answer.
I hurriedly shoved the mouthful of pudding down my throat, gulp by gulp.
The moment I forced my Adam's apple to move.
"Count Hart!!"
"Cough-hack!"
It was a magnificent ambush.
The pudding, which had been halfway down, came bursting back out of my mouth.
I stared blankly at the red liquid and chunks ruining the banquet hall floor for a moment, then cautiously called out to the person stuck to my back.
"Cough... Y-Your Highness the Princess..."
* * *
"It's been a while, Duke Illustar."
"Yes, Your Highness... But..."
"Your visits to the Imperial Palace have been infrequent lately. You must be very busy."
"My apologies. However, Your Highness..."
"Or is something the matter, perhaps?"
"No, Your Highness. That..."
"Ah, if it was a personal matter, I do apologize. Forgive my intrusion."
The Princess diverted Count Hart's attention, and the Crown Prince diverted the Duke's.
All of this had been planned extemporaneously the very moment the Duke addressed Count Hart.
Duke Illustar was the head of the Noble Faction. What good could possibly come from him conversing with Count Hart, the Emperor's prized sword? He undoubtedly harbored some sinister ulterior motive.
The Crown Prince and Princess intended to extract Count Hart from that dark-hearted scheme.
However, it seemed the Princess had overdone it.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but at this moment, Honorary Count Hart..."
"Hm?"
In that instant, the Princess's piercing shriek rang out.
"Kyaa! Count! B-Blood!"
"!?"
He caught a faint murmur from Count Hart that sounded like, 'No, this is...,' but the voice exerted no influence whatsoever and was buried by the commotion.
It wasn't just blood; it was thick blood with actual chunks in it. Who could simply overlook something like that?
"Court physician! Summon the court physician!"
Hastily calling for the court physician, the Crown Prince shot a sidelong glance at the Princess.
This was exactly why he'd told her to be careful about launching physical ambushes from behind. He had repeatedly warned her that Count Hart's body was as fragile as glass due to the Demon King's curse.
'I understand your desire to lure Count Hart away... but this was excessive.'
With a resolution to sit the Princess down for a stern warning once this incident was settled, the Crown Prince hurried over to Deon Hart.
* * *
"Kyaa! Count! B-Blood!"
"No, this is..."
"Please, do not speak."
It wasn't blood, it was pudding...
Before I could even begin to explain, Lady Rien had clamped a handkerchief over my mouth.
I floundered around in bewilderment before barely managing to peel her hand away. With a dazed expression, I stared at the utterly refreshing substance soaking into the handkerchief, then turned my head.
The banquet hall was already in an uproar.
"Court physician! Summon the court physician!"
Starting with the Crown Prince calling for the physician.
"What is going on?"
Fuck. Even the Emperor was here.
What's more, the person following behind him was unmistakably General Nemeseus, the former supreme commander and my direct superior during the Eight-Year War. I hadn't seen him even once in recent years, but how could I possibly forget that scar slashing across his face?
So, if you added that damn Hero Cruel and Duke Stave to the mix, it was safe to say I was currently the center of attention for every major figure in the Empire.
'If I'd actually coughed up blood, it wouldn't be a big problem...'
The problem was that this wasn't blood.
They seemed to think the scent of blood was simply masked by the perfume permeating the banquet hall, but I had no idea what would happen once they learned the truth.
Amidst all this, my heart nearly stopped, and the Emperor's muttering only made it worse.
"Is it the Demon King's curse..."
No, sir. I was never actually cursed by the Demon King in the first place.
The day I returned to the Imperial Palace carrying the Hero's body, I had been so physically depleted that I ended up vomiting blood right in front of the Emperor. Somehow, that got misconstrued as the Demon King's curse, and it's been that way ever since...
'Oh my god. Is that the court physician?'
Fuck. I'm screwed.
The real court physician had arrived.
* * *
The court physician was examining his patient with an uncharacteristically grave expression.
In truth, it was less that he was grave and more that his face had gone rigid.
After all, His Majesty the Emperor, His Highness the Crown Prince, Her Highness the Princess, the head of the Noble Faction Duke Illustar, and on top of that, General Nemeseus and the Hero Cruel Hart were all intently watching his every single move.
To make matters worse, the patient in question was Deon Hart, that famous Hero saddled with a plethora of terrifying aliases.
If he did anything to displease the man, his life would certainly be forfeit.
And so, brimming with tension, he was conducting a meticulous examination with everything he had, when...
'Why...'
Was there nothing wrong with him?
Beyond his body being excessively frail, there genuinely were no issues.
What's more, if he had coughed up blood, there should at least be a lingering metallic scent, yet surprisingly, no smell of blood could be detected.
At first, he'd assumed it was buried under the perfume. This was a banquet hall, after all, saturated with all kinds of fragrances.
He'd also assumed the strong cherry scent wafting from the man was just another perfume picked up somewhere.
'But there's no way even his breath would smell like cherries!'
To confirm whether he had truly coughed up blood, he gently pried the mouth open. Instead of the stench of blood, a thick scent of cherries wafted out.
From that, the court physician became certain that Count Hart hadn't coughed up blood at all.
Then the red liquid and chunks that had spurted from his mouth were the issue...
'Given the cherry scent, it must be cherry-related.'
Now that he thought about it, he remembered there being cherry pudding among the desserts.
It seemed the man had simply choked while eating pudding...
He looked at the red chunks being cleaned up by the servants with a look of cold sweat beading on his face, then shifted his gaze back.
'Should I say something?'
It was only a matter of time before the others noticed.
Even if they failed to realize it initially due to the confusion and the heavy perfume in the air, the majority of those present here had extensive experience with blood.
The tyrant Edoardo Desert, who not only seized the throne in a coup but launched the Eight-Year War almost simultaneously with his ascension. General Nemeseus, the supreme commander of that very war. And naturally, the Hero Cruel, who was inseparable from the battlefield.
They were all sickeningly familiar with blood. The moment they had a moment to breathe, they would grasp the situation in an instant.
He was in the midst of seriously agonizing over this, when—
The court physician absently raised his head and found his eyes meeting squarely with a pair of blood-red eyes staring down at him.
'...Hik!'
Those are definitely the eyes of a man saying, 'Speak, and you die.'
He reflexively sucked in a breath. The expressions of the onlookers darkened further, taking his reaction as something serious, but the court physician had no leisure to pay them any mind.
To lie to His Majesty, or to speak the truth at the cost of his life.
After wrestling for a long time at that life-or-death crossroads, he—
"Y-You did mention you were attacked on the way here, did you not? It appears the internal injuries you sustained then, combined with exhaustion, have resulted in your coughing up blood."
He squeezed his eyes shut and chose to save his immediate skin.
* * *
"Y-You did mention you were attacked on the way here, did you not? It appears the internal injuries you sustained then, combined with exhaustion, have resulted in your coughing up blood."
I'm saved! It seemed my desperately imploring gaze had gotten through to him.
Though he'd stuttered slightly, the attending physician had covered for me splendidly.
Honestly, when he squeezed his eyes shut, I thought he was about to spill the truth, and my heart plummeted.
What would I have done if he'd actually told the truth, seriously.
The embarrassment alone would have been one thing, and I would have earned everyone else's wrath, but before any of that, I couldn't even predict how the Emperor would react.
He might have even tried to have me executed for contempt.
"Apart from rest, there is no other course of treatment, so perhaps it would be best to recuperate thoroughly..."
"Is that so."
I answered calmly and rose from the chair I had been semi-forced to sit in.
Finally standing up. The pressure had been maddening. They kept pushing a chair on me, insisting the patient must sit, but who could possibly remain seated amidst a gathering of the Imperial Family, unless their heart was forged of steel?
And that was while even the Emperor himself was standing!
If the Emperor hadn't couched it as a command, I would have stubbornly stood my ground and received the examination to the bitter end, just like everyone else.
'Anyway, it seems like things are mostly resolved.'
Now I could just use this as an excuse to go home. Surely, they wouldn't try to hold a patient here.
I turned my body toward the Emperor. I was just about to give a light bow and announce my intention to take my leave, but unfortunately, my body had been far more tense than I realized.
Tense enough that my legs had completely given out!
My mind had been courteously bowing to the Emperor without any issue, though. So why was my body pitching forward like this?
Feeling my body collapse powerlessly, I cursed inwardly.
'Ah, damn.'
I was making a complete and utter spectacle of myself in front of the Emperor. How ridiculous must I look to all the people in this banquet hall?
Since I never frequented social circles, this incident would surely cement myself in their memories.
As the honorary count who took an unsightly tumble before the Emperor.
'My social life is ruined.'
With that thought, I stared dully at the rapidly approaching floor.
—No, wait.
'It's not getting closer?'
Did time normally flow this slowly?
Oh, was that it? My life flashing before my eyes? No, that wasn't it. A life review was supposed to involve old memories surfacing too.
I'd been entertaining various inane thoughts when, after a few more seconds had passed, I finally realized that someone was holding my arm.
Who was it? Among the people nearby, the one most likely to catch me... Lady Rien?
I steadied my disrupted balance and traced the hand gripping my arm upward with my eyes, parting my lips.
"Tha..."
...nk was not the right word!
The gratitude that had been on the tip of my tongue retracted the instant I confirmed the person's face.
The warmth in my eyes, meant to convey thanks, chilled into ice, and almost simultaneously, I shook off the hand supporting me with a violent display of revulsion.
"......."
"......."
In the frigid silence, Cruel glanced wordlessly between his hand and me, then took a step back. I likewise bit my lip hard and staggered two steps backward.
I hadn't wanted to go this far, especially in front of the Emperor, but I couldn't help it. This was a reflex.
I'd spent eight years rolling through the battlefield, chewing over my hatred for him countless times.
The loathing had taken root so deeply it was practically imprinted onto me. How could I possibly accept his touch with equanimity?
—No matter how much it had supposedly been for my sake.
Fortunately, the silence was broken quickly.
"...Your condition seems quite poor. How about you return home and rest for now?"
"My apologies."
I readily bowed my head and paid my respects.
What the Emperor just said was effectively the host's dismissal of a guest at a banquet, a common line.
Depending on its usage, it could be an insult or a form of consideration. In this moment, it was the latter for me.
Whatever feelings I might harbor toward Cruel, the protagonist of this banquet was still Cruel, and the host was the Imperial Family.
As such, my rudeness, which could have easily escalated into a major issue, was packaged as 'poor health' by the Emperor. By being the first to lightly reprimand me, he prevented anyone else from openly doing the same.
The Emperor had definitively shielded me.
'He's magnanimous toward talented individuals, after all.'
That was precisely why it was so suffocating. I wasn't the kind of talent he thought I was.
I was already dreading the Emperor's reaction the moment those expectations inevitably dissolved into foam.
The realization hit me anew, and strength seemed to drain from my legs once more. Without refusing Lady Rien's supporting hand from beside me, I hurriedly moved my steps out of the banquet hall.
I deliberately pushed all thoughts concerning Cruel to the back of my mind.