A Miracle Fruits of Devotion
Deep in the night, even the moonlight had grown faint.
Exhausted and worn down, Renate and Fiona trudged back to the villa on heavy feet.
Another day wasted. Of the legendary herb, not even a shadow could be found.
"Renate, fix your face. Walk in looking like that, and the Princess will only grow more anxious."
Fiona offered the advice in a low voice at her side.
"...You're right, Fiona. Haah... but it isn't easy to hide what I feel."
Renate wiped her face dry and let out a long sigh. Watching hope slip away little by little was a terrible agony.
"Well... there's nothing else to be done. It's not as if we can help it."
Fiona could not hide her own bitterness, either. A mysterious herb with no confirmed name, its appearance described differently by every account.
The guild's alchemists had all dismissed it as nothing but rumor, a waste of time—but there was nowhere else to turn.
And time was not on Anya's side. Her life was slipping away, day by day.
"...I cannot stand by and let the Princess die an empty death like this—not the way her mother passed, denied even basic care because of her low birth. Never..."
Grief and fury trembled through Renate's voice.
"Renate..."
"The Princess... she may be the very light this rotting empire needs. And yet, simply because—simply because her mother was a commoner, people act as though she deserves this cruel illness...! How can the gods be so heartless...!"
Whenever she pictured her young liege suffering amid the palace's cold indifference, Renate felt as if her heart were burning away.
Carrying that heavy weight, the two of them arrived before the villa—and stopped dead at an unexpected sight.
Light was spilling through the windows. At this hour, every lamp should have been extinguished out of concern for Anya's health, the house sunk in silence.
Worse, after she had coughed up blood only yesterday, she ought to have been resting all the more.
"...It seems your disciple has been neglecting his duties. Unable to even ensure the Princess rests early..."
Renate spoke with a voice laced with suspicion and displeasure.
"Renate, I get that you're in a foul mood, but don't jump to conclusions. Logan's not like that."
Fiona rebutted her firmly.
"...Whether I'm jumping to conclusions or not, we'll know once we're inside."
Renate opened the villa door with a rigid expression. The next instant, both women froze on the spot, rubbing their eyes at the scene before them.
Anya was sitting on the living room sofa.
And she looked nothing at all like the dying invalid of a single day ago.
Her pale cheeks had regained a healthy flush, and her eyes sparkled with life. And she was...
"Ahaha! So then what happened to that goblin, Logan?"
"Ah, and after that, I immediately—"
—sitting across from Logan, laughing brightly and chatting away in high spirits.
She looked so lively it was hard to believe she had been bedridden with illness at all.
###
"Oh, you're back, Renate? And you too, Fiona. You've worked hard again today."
Anya greeted the two at the door with a radiant smile. It was not the frail, faint smile of before—it was a bright, healthy laugh that came from the heart.
But rather than joy, Renate approached her with eyes full of shock and suspicion.
"Wh-what on earth is going on here! Princ—no, Lady Anya!"
The words burst out of her, unbidden. And her gaze drifted naturally to the half-empty fruit basket sitting on the table.
Wild strawberries and berries still lay inside it.
"Don't tell me... you ate that? After I begged you to be so careful! Those low-grade things, with who knows what effect on your body...!"
A dangerous glint entered Renate's eyes as they turned on Logan.
She was furious at the thought that those berries might worsen Anya's health even further.
"You dared to offer the Lady such worthless things?!"
The menace in her voice made it sound as though she would draw the sword at her hip and cut Logan down on the spot. Fiona hastily stepped between them, trying to calm her down.
"Whoa, Renate! Calm down! At least hear the story out before you start strangling people!"
"Step aside, Fiona! Friend or not, I will not tolerate you shielding this boy any longer!"
A spark away from open conflict, the tension stretched taut across the living room.
And then—
Anya's voice rang out, calm yet commanding.
"Renate."
"!!!"
At that single word, Renate froze in place as if under a spell—then reflexively dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
Logan and Fiona flinched at the aura radiating from Anya, so utterly unlike her usual self.
It was not the guise of a sickly girl, but of one born to noble station and innate authority.
Anya regarded the two flustered women for a moment, then addressed Renate calmly.
"To be so rash as to condemn someone before I've even explained the situation—that is unlike you, Renate."
"...I apologize. However—!"
"Enough. I will tolerate no further discourtesy. Can you not see my condition with your own eyes?"
"...That is..."
Renate lifted her head and looked at Anya again. The transformation was truly beyond belief.
Could a person change this much in barely half a day?
Any trace of the girl who had struggled to breathe was gone; in her place was Anya with clear, bright eyes and healthy color in her cheeks.
As Renate stood bewildered by an incomprehensible situation, Logan spoke up carefully.
"Ah, Lady Renate. Forgive me, but might I explain for a moment? It seems that Anya—forgive me, Lady Anya—has been suffering from a severe lack of... vital nutrients, you see. From fruits and vegetables, to be specific."
"...I beg your pardon?"
Renate's brow furrowed at his words.
Logan paused, considering how best to explain.
There was no such concept as vitamins in this world.
Wanting to phrase it in a way they could easily understand, he improvised a plausible story.
"The truth is... some time ago, on a commission, I happened to meet an elderly herbalist, and I heard something from him."
"According to him, if a person goes a long while without fresh vegetables or fruit, the body grows weak and they can fall ill with a sickness that makes them bleed."
"Lady Anya's symptoms sounded so much like what he described that... well, on the chance it might help, I took it upon myself to gather fruit from the forest for her."
"I am truly sorry I didn't consult you first."
As Logan spoke, Renate's face grew steadily paler. Memories of the past flashed through her mind.
'...Maintaining her figure... a meager diet... grain-heavy meals... salted meat... Right—vegetables and fruit were barely... no, entirely absent...'
Why hadn't she pushed back harder that day, when the palace servants invoked royal dignity to force a starving diet on a girl still growing?
Why hadn't she questioned the meals when Anya's health began to fail?
She had only ever considered poisoning—and when no toxins were detected, she had stopped suspecting anything at all.
It had never once occurred to her that a life could be drained away slowly like this, through deliberate malnutrition.
So that was it—a cunning conspiracy to steal Anya's life bit by bit, leaving no trace behind.
'Ah... how could I have been so blind, so ignorant...!'
Renate ground her teeth at her own ignorance.
That not one physician or scholar of the palace had advised them about such a basic imbalance was no excuse.
She blamed herself for letting Anya eat such an absurd diet without a flicker of doubt.
The whole time, the means to save her liege had been right at hand—and she had failed to see it, wandering lost in pursuit of some legendary herb.
"...I am truly sorry... for my ignorance...!"
Renate bowed low to the floor, weeping, and begged Anya's forgiveness. Then she bowed deeply to Logan as well.
"And Logan... I have no face to show you, either. My rashness led me to threaten you over a misunderstanding... I am truly sorry..."
Faced with her heartfelt apology, Logan only waved his hands in flustered protest.
"N-no, it's quite all right, Lady Renate! Anyone would have misunderstood!"
"He's right. Renate... if I didn't have you, I could never have endured life at the palace. So please, don't blame yourself too much."
Anya comforted her as well. When Renate choked up, too moved to answer, Fiona cut in to lighten the mood.
"Now, now! Everything turned out fine, so that's what matters, right? Enough of that... So, Logan—her health's actually going to make a full recovery now? Are you sure?"
"Yes, Fiona. According to that old herbalist, with a steady diet of fresh fruit and vegetables, she'll fully recover within two or three weeks—or as quickly as a single week."
At Logan's confident answer, bright hope bloomed once more across Anya's and Renate's faces. Fiona, listening, thought to herself:
'Hm... I don't remember him ever taking a commission where he'd have met some old herbalist, though... This kid?'
But she didn't press the point.
Whatever reason he'd had for making the story up, the fact remained that Anya's condition had improved dramatically—and that alone was enough.
"Is that so? Wonderful! That's one weight off my mind. Logan, you should head home now too. It's far too late."
"Ah..."
At Fiona's words, Logan hesitated. The clock showed it was, indeed, very late.
And yet, somehow, Anya kept gazing at him with eyes that seemed quietly disappointed, and he couldn't quite bring himself to leave.
Perhaps sensing his heart, Anya forced a smile.
"Yes, Logan... it's late, so please go home and rest. And..."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Thank you... truly... thank you..."
Clear tears welled up in her bright red eyes. At the sight, something twisted in Logan's chest, and he bowed respectfully.
"Not at all. If anything, I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner."
"No! Not at all! Thanks to you, I..."
'...I was saved.'
Anya couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. The moment those words left her mouth, she felt she would be placing a burden far too heavy on this boy.
And... she was afraid she might beg him, like a spoiled child, never to leave her side for even a moment.
Steadying her emotions with effort, Anya spoke again.
"...In any case... travel safely... and tomorrow... you'll come again, won't you?"
"Of course. Every day, until the commission is finished."
"Yes... then, see you tomorrow."
"Yes... good night, then."
Logan turned and left the villa. Anya watched his figure disappear through the window for a long while.
Fiona and Renate observed the pair of them.
Fiona quietly nudged Renate and whispered.
"Hey, Renate. Maybe work on that expression."
Renate answered, unable to tear her worried eyes away from Anya.
"B-but... the way she looks..."
"I'm telling you, don't worry. How many times do I have to say it? Nothing like what you're afraid of will ever happen. That boy's heart already belongs to someone."
"No... what I'm worried about isn't Logan's side of things..."
Renate couldn't finish, her gaze fixed on Anya, who still gazed wistfully out the window.
Because the look in Anya's eyes held something unmistakably deeper than simple gratitude.
###
In the week that followed, thanks to the fresh fruit Logan brought her every single day, Anya's health recovered at an astonishing pace.
Color returned to her pale cheeks, and her strength improved visibly.
With her vitality restored, she could now take light walks in the villa's garden.
Healthy again, Anya spent her days talking with Logan more joyfully than ever, their hours together growing happier by the day.
But now that she was well, she could no longer linger in this remote countryside—not the way her heart wished she could.
And so, one day, Logan was suddenly informed by Renate that today would be the last day of the commission.
"Today is the last day?"
Logan asked, regret heavy in his voice. The time he had spent with Anya had become something special to him, too.
"It is."
Renate answered calmly. Her face no longer held the old anxiety and desperation—only relief and gratitude.
"You've worked tirelessly all this while. And..."
Standing before Logan, Renate bowed deeply with the full formality of a knight.
"Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, Logan. I will never forget this debt."
"Oh, no, please! I only fulfilled the commission I was given..."
Logan flustered and tried to raise her back up, but Renate held her posture and continued.
"No. The kindness you have shown us is anything but light. I will repay it, without fail. If there is anything you desire, anything at all..."
"Truly, there's no need, Lady Renate. I've already received the full fee, plus more than my share of a bonus. I couldn't ask for anything more."
Logan declined with complete sincerity. At his humility and lack of greed, Renate could only marvel yet again.
'...What a remarkable boy he is.'
Granted, he didn't know Anya's true identity—but even for a nobleman's daughter, he could have demanded any reward he pleased.
He had saved her life; he could have asked for a fortune. Yet he had even tried to decline the extra payment as excessive.
Realizing that further persuasion was pointless, Renate offered him a heartfelt blessing instead.
"......Very well. If that is truly your wish, I won't press you. May good fortune follow you all the days of your road ahead."
"Thank you, Lady Renate."
"Ah, but... Anya—forgive me, Lady Anya... has she already departed?"
Logan asked carefully. He had wanted to say his farewells, but there was no sign of her anywhere.
"Ah... I'm sorry. Word came from the main house that the young lady has been fully restored to health, with orders for her to return at once."
"Regrettably, she left before dawn this morning. But she charged me, again and again, to convey her gratitude to you."
"Ah... I see..."
Logan couldn't hide his disappointment, but he accepted it with quiet grace.
"Then... please give her my regards as well. Tell her I hope she stays well, always."
"...I will, I promise. Now, I should be going as well. And Fiona—you've been a great help to me too."
Renate gave Fiona a brief parting greeting as well.
"Heh, it was nothing. Next time you need help, call on us anytime. Though honestly, this boy Logan here would be the faster and surer bet than me!"
Fiona clapped Logan on the shoulder with a playful grin.
"Hey! Fiona, come on!"
Watching the two of them bicker, Renate laughed genuinely for the first time since arriving here, and started toward the carriage.
Pat, pat...
A short distance from the villa stood a waiting carriage—not ornate, but sturdy-looking.
When Renate climbed aboard, Anya was already inside, gazing out the window.
"...Are you truly certain you wish to leave without a final farewell, Your Highness?"
Renate asked gently. No matter how she looked at her, the Princess's face was full of lingering attachment.
"...Yes. If I didn't... I knew I wouldn't have the courage to leave at all. I might have... thrown a tantrum and begged you to let the two of us just stay here and live, Renate."
Anya's voice trembled faintly.
"......"
Renate could say nothing. Part of her even wondered if that might not be the happier road for Anya after all.
Here, where the people were peaceful and warm, even if they had little—rather than a palace seething with filthy, ugly schemes...
But Anya, as if reading her heart, flashed her crimson eyes and spoke.
"...But I cannot simply run away. The way I was treated... my mother was treated the very same way... before she died."
Her voice carried sorrow—but alongside it, burning fury and resolve.
"...Yes. I understand, Your Highness."
"...Then, please—let us depart at once."
"Yes. As you command."
And so the carriage bearing them away began slowly to move.
Anya watched the villa and the village recede through the window, quietly shedding tears.
The truth was, she had wanted to reveal Logan's identity and drag him back to the palace with her. She had wanted to keep him at her side, to monopolize that kindness and warmth forever.
But she couldn't. She knew too well how dearly he cherished a girl named Irene—how completely he had devoted his life to her.
She could not shatter his life for the sake of her own selfish desire.
Trickle...
Tears ran down her cheeks, and she didn't even think to wipe them away.
'Please... stay well, Logan...'
'Thank you. Truly... I will never forget you... or your warmth...'
'Someday... even if it's far, far in the future, if we could meet again...'
'And if, at that time... the seat beside you happens to be empty...'
'Then, without fail...'
Even through her flowing tears, Anya smiled faintly—and in the depths of her heart, she made a quiet promise for the day they would meet again.
