Nothing Worth Your Life

The Archducal Castle was in an uproar.

Their lord had returned after only a few days, and the lady lay gathered in his arms.

"I can walk on my own, you know..."

Odelli's protest was small.

"Be still."

Ludville drew her closer, his face utterly unbothered, and at once the order went out to summon the physician.

The vassals and servants who had been pacing between the castle and the annex, waiting in anxious suspense for the two of them, froze where they stood.

...What in the world happened?

Not one of them dared open their mouth. They simply stepped aside so as not to impede Ludville's stride, and because of that he never once stopped. With Odelli held against his chest, he turned down the inner corridor—and made straight for the archduke's bedchamber.

"......!"

A maid clapped a hand over her mouth. Rian, the political officer, let the documents in his hands slip and fall.

Even Theodore, the steward, whom little could unsettle, could not keep his mouth shut.

"Th-they must have gone to the guest chamber... surely?"

"No. That was unmistakably His Grace's bedchamber."

A quiet ripple of shock spread among the vassals. Amid the confusion, Gareth, captain of the knights, merely folded his arms and let out a low sigh.

"...Looks as though we'll have our hands full from today."

He murmured it, then turned to the soldier beside him.

"Fetch the physician first. As quickly as you can."

"She was on the verge of fainting, you say?"

The physician measured the heat at her brow with the back of a hand, checked the response of her pupils, and kept up a steady mutter laced with lament. Odelli lay pale, working to steady her breath. A fine tremor lingered in her fingertips, and a faint purpura had bloomed across her body—the mark of a mana current driven far past its limit. Outwardly, though, she still lay quiet and composed, not a hair out of place.

"With internal injuries like these, you shouldn't even have been able to walk properly. How did you endure it, my lady?"

The physician pressed a hand to his forehead, wearing the look of a man whose roster of patients who would not listen had just grown by one.

"And what does that amount to?"

Ludville's characteristic cold tone cut across the room. The physician's head jerked up, and he hastily straightened.

"Ah—yes. Total exhaustion from excessive mana expenditure, with signs of minor vascular rupture and muscular rigidity. She has stabilized for now, but she will require absolute rest for several days."

He added, carefully, "Even the slightest movement is forbidden. Above all, she must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not use mana ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again... that is to say, she must absolutely refrain from employing that power of purification."

Ludville stared at Odelli in silence, his face expressionless. There seemed to be a great deal left unsaid in his eyes. Odelli closed her own, as if to turn away from them.

As expected. He mentions only the mana expenditure.

Everything the physician had named was merely a symptom visible on the surface. He had no idea that the damage left inside her by purification was piling up, nibbling away at her lifespan little by little. Purification was a unique ability that belonged to Odelli alone.

I never thought Cardel's thorough concealment of the Purifier would prove this useful.

For now, only Cardel knew that a Purifier's life was spent as the price of purification.

Good. At least the physician's diagnosis won't expose it.

Swallowing the chill that crept up through her, Odelli felt a measure of relief.

But—

"How much mana was used in the purification?"

Ludville's question was sharp. He was asking the physician, yet his gaze never left Odelli, piercing straight through her.

"I know nothing of the lady's abilities, but... if purification is repeated more than twice in a single day, I believe it could prove fatal to her life."

Odelli flinched inwardly at the answer.

...Has he found me out?

His next words let her breathe again.

"This purification ability seems to consume far more mana than ordinary magic."

Fortunately, it was only a medical judgment about the expenditure of mana. He did not appear to know that purification was bound to her lifespan.

Even so, this may prove just as much of a headache.

That he had grasped even that much was already inconvenient. From now on there would be limits on how Odelli used her purification.

And sure enough—

She stole a glance at him. Ludville's violet eyes had darkened until they looked nearly black. He drew out the contract and, without hesitation, set a new article down in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decisive hand.

"This authority over my care—how far does it extend?"

"Well. Oversight of your physical condition in its entirety, protection, and intervention when necessary. Wouldn't you say?"

His tone was calm, and yet something in it felt dangerous.

"...And how, exactly, do you mean to watch me, protect me, and intervene?"

"I leave that to your imagination."

"......"

Put that way, isn't this no different from a signed surrender of my own body?

When Odelli looked at him with a thoroughly displeased gaze, he added, briefly, "It is a measure to protect you."

He came to her side and straightened the rumpled blankets. His fingertips were careful, and every movement carried a feeling held tightly in check.

"Do not do this again."

"......"

Odelli said nothing. She swallowed a sigh and closed her eyes once more, to hide the way they trembled. She had heard those words from Ludville countless times. Thousands—no, perhaps tens of thousands.

...He ought to have lost his memories. Why is he exactly the same?

She was the one who had drawn the line first and insisted they set feeling aside. Even so, she could not stop a single sentence of his from seeping into her heart. These were things she must no longer let show.

A faint scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the room. Two layers of curtain hung over the window, and the last of the fire in the hearth breathed out a thin, lingering warmth.

A day had passed since Odelli regained consciousness. Her body had settled to some degree, but she was still confined to bed, recovering. The bedchamber was quiet.

"Your forehead is still a little warm, my lady."

Leona whispered it as she carefully wiped Odelli's brow.

"I'll fetch fresh water."

"Mm..."

Odelli kept her eyes closed, steadying her breath beneath the blankets. She heard Leona leave, and not long after the door opened with care. A heavy, disciplined tread approached the bed, unhurried. Odelli did not need to open her eyes to know who it was.

He's here again...

The senses branded through her whole body remembered him. A heat that did not cool even in the biting northern wind. A breath, deep and regular, that had never once faltered on any battlefield. And a scent, thick and lingering—leather mingled with wood. It was Ludville.

He laid the damp cloth he carried gently across her forehead. His fingertips were careful to the point of excess, as if he were handling glass that might shatter at a touch. He must have met Leona outside, told her he would do it himself, and taken the cloth and basin from her hands. Odelli could see it clearly: that blunt, closed face, bent to precisely such a task.

He took her wrist and quietly felt for her pulse with his fingertips, as if to confirm that she was still alive—though he must have known perfectly well that a person did not simply drop dead overnight.