Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing — Chapter 173
Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing — Chapter 173
“…”
There was so much he wanted to say.
Hadn’t he imagined this countless times as a child?
He had resolved hundreds, thousands of times what he would say if he ever saw his mother again, even in a dream.
The words he wanted to speak had always shifted.
He wouldn’t deny that most of them were resentments.
When the pain was tearing him apart, he wanted to spit out, Why did you give birth to me, then?
On days when he saw a happy family, he ached to rage, Why was I denied that simple, ordinary happiness?
And once in a while.
On a day so peaceful that the pain was lighter than usual and nothing grated on his nerves…
‘I wanted to say I missed you.’
Just once would be enough—please appear in my dreams.
He had even longed to call her “Mother,” to call her “Mom,” just once.
But now, faced with this wretched sight, the words he had wanted to say slid back down his throat.
Kyle clenched his fists so tightly his nails nearly broke the skin.
The truth was.
“I envied you for being dead.”
Here I was, writhing in the mud and suffering so much, but you could rest easy in death.
And in another way, I thought it was a relief.
If you were suffering alongside me because of me, I truly didn’t think I could endure it.
But—
“…Is this really the best you could do?”
Kyle forced out the words.
For words meant to be boldly spoken, they were pathetically small and trembling.
He was afraid that she might hear these harsh words.
But the figure bound in black chains and sinister curses didn’t so much as stir.
He had the chilling thought that she was a mother who didn’t even know his voice, so perhaps she wouldn’t answer him even in a dream.
The guilt he felt for a wrong he never committed shrank Kyle into something impossibly small.
Yet he had no intention of letting this dream end here.
“I have to hear an answer.”
Slowly, step by step, Kyle approached his mother, trapped in the chains of the curse, and seized one of the many chains.
“Ugh…”
Though it was a dream, the moment he touched the chain, a carving, slicing pain slithered up his palms.
It was the pain of the curse he had always known.
So, mercifully, he could endure it.
The pain he’d lived with his entire life could slow Kyle’s steps, but it couldn’t stop him in the end.
Because he had been forced to grow so tenaciously, so strong.
‘Strong enough to save you, the one who placed this curse on me!’
Kyle exerted his strength and crushed the thick chain, ripping it off.
Shrrriek!
Something as blunt as an iron fragment shattered to the floor with a noise sharp as broken glass.
The shards of the chain fell pathetically to the ground.
But that was not the end.
The fallen chain turned into a black liquid and then rebuilt itself into new chains, growing back.
“Persistent.”
Kyle sneered.
A regenerating curse didn’t bring him despair.
He simply had to tear his mother out of this curse faster than it could regrow.
Kyle stomped on the regenerating chain, smashing it again, and kept tearing away at the countless others.
If only these chains were gone, he could hear your voice—no. He could at least see your face.
* * *
While Kyle waged his own lonely battle in the dream, Lion began the preparations in earnest outside.
First, he sterilized the carving knife with a basic fire magic spell, then cooled it.
He was going to use a potion at the end, but this was a precaution just in case of infection.
One misstep here, and he might be branded not a mysterious helper, but the attempted murderer of the Second Prince.
‘Well. I plan to wrap this up cleanly before that can happen.’
Lion took Kyle’s limp hand and pricked his fingertip with the carving knife.
Though considered small, it was far thicker than a needle, and in an instant, blood dripped thickly from the finger.
Before the blood could hit the floor, Lion swiftly caught it in the Abgrund Potion Bottle.
Only a small amount was needed, but because of the cursed state, he couldn’t be sure what variables might arise from using a different bottle.
Dark red blood slowly filled the vial.
Just as expected, the blood was saturated with the energy of the curse, but it did not leak outside the bottle.
‘That should be about enough.’
Having drawn exactly as much blood as he needed, Lion wrapped the Second Prince’s finger with a bandage and pressed firmly to stanch the flow.
“…Hoo!”
He exhaled a light sigh of relief.
‘In this life, I’m really doing all sorts of things I never imagined.’
Had he ever drawn someone’s blood like this before, without ever working in the medical field?
No, before that—
Had he ever stabbed anyone before?
‘That was nerve-wracking. Good grief.’
He’d been trembling inside, but by nature his inner tension didn’t show on the outside, allowing him to proceed calmly and efficiently.
“Good. All the ingredients are gathered.”
Lion carefully placed the blood-filled Abgrund Potion Bottle on the table, then retrieved another substance from his inventory.
That was…
[Empty Obsidian]
-A transparent crystal that has had all the Witch’s power drained from it.
-Usable as decoration… but keeping it in your home might bring misfortune.
-It seems capable of holding something inside.
This was the obsidian he had placed in the melting solution while making the Abgrund Potion Bottle.
The energy within had dissolved into the solution and become a black mist, but for some reason the crystal itself had remained, so he had kept it along with the slag.
Lion examined the Empty Obsidian from various angles.
As the description said, it was now so transparent the name “obsidian” hardly suited it anymore.
He felt none of Elvia’s lingering power.
It was, in every sense, a clean crystal.
‘…This wasn’t all bad.’
Perhaps because it had originally been obsidian created by Elvia, its property of absorbing demonic energy was strong.
Which meant.
‘It should be able to absorb the Second Prince’s blood too.’
If that happened, it would directly complete the core “ingredient” for this dagger: a crystal containing the Second Prince’s blood.
When Lion had checked a moment ago, this dagger was close to a single-use curse-absorption doll.
But simply carrying it didn’t absorb all the curse.
For it to work properly, a large amount of blood from the target was needed for the curse absorption.
To be more precise, the target’s blood had to be crystallized through a special process and then absorbed into the dagger, and this all had to happen simultaneously with the ritual to break the curse, making it quite complicated.
No—it would not be an exaggeration to say it was normally impossible.
‘If it weren’t for that, a near-lethal amount of blood would have to actually soak into the dagger itself.’
That was likely why the Second Prince’s mother had crafted it into the form of a knife.
But…
‘She probably couldn’t bring herself to let him be stabbed.’
They say a child is one’s own flesh and blood, someone you’d place before your own eyes without pain.
Wouldn’t she, his mother, have wanted to raise him more preciously than gold or jade?
She couldn’t have left a blade for such a child.
“Well, it’s all going to be all right now.”
Lion murmured to the empty air.
Because with this transparent obsidian, he could create the crystal with only a small amount of blood.
“So please, go in peace.”
Once this was done, her soul would likely be freed from the curse and able to depart completely.
But those words also meant an eternal farewell.
If the Second Prince’s mother was aware of this entire process…
‘Wouldn’t she feel a sense of regret, too?’
Having never been a parent himself, he couldn’t presume to guess that emotion.
Lion offered a light gesture of respect, then dropped the transparent obsidian into the Abgrund Potion Bottle containing the Second Prince’s blood and immediately closed the lid.
There was little left to do.
He just had to shake the bottle periodically to check whether the liquid inside had been fully absorbed.
And so, after Lion had shaken the bottle a few times…
“…”
A cold sweat began to pour down the face of the Second Prince, who had been lying with his eyes peacefully closed.
When Lion drew closer, he heard a faint pained moan, and he laid a hand on the prince’s forehead…
‘A fever.’
A raging high fever, at that.
It wasn’t a bad sign.
It meant the cradle crafted by the Second Prince’s mother was working well.
The tenaciously clinging curse was being dislodged, and his body was fighting to expel it, generating heat in the process.
“Not yet.”
Lion shook the potion bottle once more.
This time.
Clack.
There was no sensation of liquid sloshing—only the clean sound of a crystal knocking against the glass.
“Done.”
Lion grinned, uncapped the bottle, and pulled out the crystal inside.
The once perfectly transparent, empty crystal had at some point taken on a dark red, bloodlike hue—a dangerous color.
Dangerous enough that anyone else would scream it was sinister and needed immediate purification. But right now, this crystal was a precious material that would save a life.
“I’m counting on you.”
Lion placed the blood-colored crystal on the dagger resting atop the Second Prince’s chest.
At that, the crystal vanished as if absorbed into the dagger.
Simultaneously, the blade slowly turned crimson.
And that was not all.
The blunt edge sharpened, honed itself, and began to give off an eerie luster.
The short blade emitted a soft tzzt, giving a small hum.
And then…
Sllk.
The curse pattern covering the Second Prince’s forearm slowly receded.
Likewise the pattern around his collarbone, visible through the gap in his shirt.
It seemed to be returning to its initial state, before it had begun to spread.
And once it returned to its original form, it would likely transfer directly to the blade.
All that remained now was truly just to watch over him.
Ah, and then…
“Mm.”
He’d suffer physical damage from the fever if left like this, so there was no help for it.
Lion rose from his seat, soaked a towel with water, wrung it out thoroughly, placed it on the Second Prince’s forehead, and sat back down in front of him.
He’d avoided administering a potion now, afraid it might somehow interfere with the ritual.
‘So I hope you can get everything off your chest in that dream and wake up.’
* * *
Kyle finally seized the last chain.
His hands were mottled as if badly burned, the skin torn, sticky with ooze—a sight that would make anyone wince just to look at them. But he didn’t stop.
Just when he thought his strength was finally giving out, at some point the chains had stopped regenerating and simply crumbled away.
‘That’s the help of that fellow.’
He realized it instinctively, but for now, the reunion with the person before him took precedence.
Kyle exerted his strength and snapped the thickest chain.
At that, the figure bound by the chains and the curse crumpled, strengthless.
“…!”
Uncharacteristically, Kyle lunged forward, catching the falling body and sinking down to sit on the floor.
‘So light.’
His first sensation was that she was eerily light.
If a grown woman was this light, she certainly wouldn’t have even been able to move.
“She… was dead, wasn’t she?”
Well, she had been in a state from the very start that could hardly be called alive.
Truthfully, he could have known for certain by pressing his hand to her neck to check her pulse, looking at her face, watching to see if she breathed.
But—
He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Even though he’d lived his whole life believing his mother was already dead and resenting her, a sudden terror seized him.
If he saw her face here, he felt he would remember it even after waking from the dream.
And if that happened, how was he supposed to go on living?
The driving force of his life had been resentment and fury.
‘What am I supposed to do now?’
He had finally cast off everything that bound and tormented him, yet strangely, he didn’t feel unburdened.
It was at that very moment.
Pat…
An incredibly light, dry hand managed, just barely, to stroke Kyle’s back.
“Ah…”
It was the touch
of a mother.