The Right Not to Die in Pain
After finishing Oscar Frederick's haircut, I decided to proceed with skincare at the level grooms receive before their weddings.
"Gaaah! I can't! I can't do it!"
"Young master, we haven't even started yet."
"Oh, r-right? Was I too loud?"
"Shall we proceed?"
"Yeah…… Aaaah! Stop! Stooop!"
"……."
Maener, this kid's a lost cause, isn't he?
I nodded silently at Res's words, plug still clenched in their mouth like a pacifier. Res's magic wasn't infinitely versatile, but it had impressive utility. Whenever I had free time, I'd experimented on ways to make the best use of Res—like turning them into a portable generator by stuffing a plug into their mouth just like a baby with a bottle.
It works if I hold it by hand too. Just had some error issues.
Res's paws were so tiny and fluffy that the current flow was inconsistent.
Ah, so much to do.
I only had four days to treat patients before the banquet began—not counting the day itself. Today, the first day: acne scar removal and pore treatment. Tomorrow: pigmentation treatment, freckles, and whitening laser for blemishes. The day after: Botox for masseter, cheekbones, square jaw, and trapezius to make the neck look longer.
I'd planned to wrap it up perfectly with laser lifting on the last day. Why is he so damn scared of everything?
All the assorted medical devices I'd packed into my subspace pouch were turning into expensive decorations. Oscar's pain threshold was lower than a toddler's.
Treatment…… is a bust.
He freaked out at the mere sound of a tiny needle or laser touching him, so further procedures seemed pointless. Res had already caught on, yanking the laser machine's plug from their mouth and wiping it clean with their fur.
"We'll focus on painless treatments today. Let me show you how to use this skin-nourishing ointment."
"Yeah, why didn't you bring that out sooner?"
I slathered on moisturizing cream, applied a sheet mask, finished up, then scheduled tomorrow's treatment before Mendel guided us out.
"The second young master looked much brighter, sir."
Mendel commented casually as he led us back to our guesthouse.
"Haha, yeah, no choice. Oh, by the way, do you know where the first young master is? I brought the headache medicine I mentioned yesterday."
"The eldest young master is in his room. I'll show you right away."
We followed Mendel to Logan's room.
"Eldest young master, Director Maener is here to see you."
"Send him in."
The door opened to reveal an interior painted in garish green—green carpet, green wallpaper, even green candelabras. Mendel stepped out, and Logan approached us with a gaunt face.
"Did you see Oscar?"
"Yes, just finished his treatment. I came to give you that headache medicine I mentioned."
I pulled a Tylenol from my pocket and handed it over.
"Take it with water. I wrote the dosage instructions inside."
"Haha, thank you. You came to help my brother, and here I am receiving help instead."
"No trouble at all."
His face was still pale, but that innocent smile made him look a bit healthier than yesterday.
"Whoa! Cool room! Everything's green—even the carpet and walls!"
"S-sorry, young master. This hatchling helps with my work, but they're still young and clueless."
"Haha, no need. The little one has good taste. My mother decorated it all for me."
As the duke's firstborn, Logan exuded genuine noble grace, unlike his brother. Then Res spotted a small portrait on the wall—the same one we'd seen yesterday en route to the banquet hall, but in miniature.
"Whoa! Super pretty lady!"
"R-Res! Are you crazy?"
If I could have used telepathy, I'd have cursed them out in my head. Using magic without permission in the ducal residence could land you in jail, so unless it was for medical purposes, I couldn't hide Res with invisibility.
But critiquing the late duchess's portrait like that? My stomach churned like motion sickness.
"S-sorry, young master. I haven't trained them properly, leading to this rude remark……."
"Haha, no harm done. It's been ages since a guest visited my room—please, sit. So, little one's name is Res?"
"Yeah! That's me! Maener named me!"
"Ahaha, I see."
Was it Logan's gentle aura? Or the snacks he offered? Res flapped their tiny wings excitedly and hopped onto the young master's lap.
"That's my mother—the one Res mentioned. Not my current mother, my real one."
Despite Res's blunt baby talk, Logan just petted their fur fondly.
"Both you and your mother love green, young master."
"I didn't always. But at some point, it became the color to honor my real mother."
Logan gave a wistful smile at my question.
"My real mother was like a flower in a greenhouse—always gentle, calm, warm. But around when I was nine or ten, she started getting sick and eventually passed. Then my current mother—her dedicated maid at the time—became my stepmother."
"……."
His words sounded like he just wanted to share about his birth mother with someone, so I listened quietly.
"Haha, having a guest after so long has me getting sentimental. My current mother treats me wonderfully—spoils me more than Oscar, even commissioning the finest clothes just for me. She decorated this room too."
"So cool! All green!"
"Ahaha, yes. It's the most popular color in the capital, they say. Vivid green is hard to make and terribly expensive."
His warm story made even my heart feel fluffy.
But why does it feel off?
The conversation was cozy as could be. Yet there was this odd tension, like stepping into a lion's den. That's when I noticed the young master's nails.
"Young master, if I may—could I take a quick look at your hand?"
"Uh, well…… I……."
Suddenly clutching Res tightly, his eyes wary. A deep unease welled up.
"Your nails look a bit off-color. I'd like to examine them— is that alright?"
"Ahaha, of course. Go ahead."
Suppressing my discomfort, I checked his nails.
Yellow nail syndrome? Why are they this color?
They were yellower and thicker than normal. Conditions like chronic bronchitis, sinusitis, tuberculosis, or pericarditis impair breathing; lymphatic edema hinders circulation, starving the body of oxygen. Nails grow slow and thick, turning yellow.
"When did your nails start yellowing? Was it sudden?"
"Not sudden—gradually over a few years. I eat well despite no appetite, but I have no idea why."
Sudden yellowing might suggest fungal infection. Not whole hand yellow, so not jaundice.
What the hell…… Oh?
"Is it bad? The family physician found nothing. My face is pale as snow, and now my nails—too embarrassing to go out. I barely mustered the strength yesterday hearing you were coming, haha."
I didn't need his faint laugh to know his condition was graver than thought. His skin, expression, movements—all screamed it.
Breathing grew hard. But I masked it and continued.
"Hmm…… Not sure of the exact cause yet. I'll let you know if I figure it out."
"Yes, thank you."
"Res, let's go. Young master needs rest."
"Okay!"
After leaving, my whole body trembled.
"Maener? What's wrong?"
"Res, listen carefully. As soon as we get back, wash up thoroughly. I'll go see the duchess."
I think I knew what was wrong with the young master.
* * *
Afternoon. About twenty minutes after arriving early to the drawing room for my appointment with the duchess, she appeared.
"You arrived early."
"Good day, Duchess."
"Yes, I heard the treatment worked wonders on my child. His skin's so much more elastic now?"
All I'd done was moisturizer and a sheet mask, but Oscar seemed to think that counted as treatment. The duchess too.
"Yes. I wanted more aggressive procedures, but the second young master's skin is sensitive, so we're sticking to painless skincare."
"Good. I get reports on everything about my child, but calling me aside like this—it's about Logan, isn't it?"
Oscar: my child. Logan: just a name. Everything from the past two days clicked like puzzle pieces—her every gesture.
"Yes. I delivered the headache medicine and took a closer look at the first young master's condition. And…… if I may say……."
"Speak. He's not my blood, but Logan is my son. I cherish him more than my own Oscar."
"First…… could you clear the room? This is for your ears only."
She nodded, and the maids filed out, leaving us alone.
"What is it?"
"Well…… I hesitated a long time, it shocked me so……."
I swallowed dryly. Alone with the duchess—no Res, no Walter. Not acting—the tension choked me. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them.
"The first young master has a serious skin condition."
"Skin condition? I know. He takes after his late mother—paler than most. Such a refined woman."
Her voice was lifeless, monotonous. She acted like she missed Logan's birth mother.
"Yes, that's what I meant. I examined him, and it seems like a genetic disease."
"Genetic?"
"Yes—like inheriting parents' hair color or features. Cause unknown, but definitely genetic. And…… the first young master won't last much longer."
Bam!
"How dare you! What are you saying?!"
"S-sorry."
I trembled like a scared puppy. Not really, of course.
"But like a child can't change their inherited face, genetic diseases can't be cured. Incurable—no medicine fixes it."
"So you're saying my child will die soon?!"
She didn't hide her fury, but I pressed on.
"……At the Beauty Tower, we have devices to ease the end. Humans have blood vessels—tubes carrying blood. We connect to them for a painless passing."
"So, send my son to your hospital to die?"
"I believe humans have the right not to die in pain."