MDCHC 57

chapter 57

I handed the soiled towel to the maid and received a fresh one. Then once again, I brought it to Lord Winchester’s lips. As if he had been waiting for it, he vomited again. Since it was the second time, the amount was less than before.

“Will making him vomit really help?”

Eden, who was supporting Lord Winchester’s upper body, asked with a worried expression. Unlike Lord Winchester, who showed no emotion, Eden’s face betrayed exactly what he was thinking.

When I first met him, he was merely annoying, and even afterward, I had never thought kindly of him. But now, seeing his face filled with genuine concern for Lord Winchester, the negative feelings I’d held toward him melted away.

Perhaps that was why Lord Winchester kept Eden close and trusted him—because he was someone who showed everything on his face, the opposite of himself.

“I’m not certain either.”

I spoke as I wiped the vomit from Lord Winchester’s lips. I had suggested it, but whether it would work or not, I didn’t know.

“All I can do is hope it helps.”

If, as the doctor had said, it wasn’t an instantly fatal poison, but rather poisoning from ingestion—and if there was still poison in his stomach that hadn’t been absorbed yet—then by expelling some of it, he might at least lessen the damage.

“Ugh…”

A faint groan escaped Lord Winchester’s lips. Hearing such a sound from a man who had never once uttered a weak noise before made my chest ache even more.

He was human, after all. Simply a man who endured pain better than others.

But now, he was in such agony that even he could not stifle his groans.

“Just a little more strength.”

I patted his back gently. I was afraid that striking too firmly might hurt him, so I stroked him cautiously, like coaxing a burp from a newborn infant.

“…Madam.”

His voice came out small, like a sigh. Just the faintest utterance of my title was enough to make my eyes sting again with tears. From such a large body, such a small, fragile voice—it was hard to believe.

“Yes. I’m right here.”

Overcome with pity, I wrapped my arms around him. I wanted him to know completely that I was here with him.

I felt Lord Winchester rest his head on my shoulder—the weight of it, and the brush of his hair against me. Supporting his limp arms and body, I continued to pat and stroke his back over and over.

“Just a little more.”

Feeling his hair at my nape and his warmth pressed against me, I whispered.

At that moment, Lord Winchester’s body heaved again. Quickly, I thumped his back, and his shoulders rose sharply. Then came the sour stench, and I felt warm liquid soaking my back.

“M-Madam!”

The maid cried out in alarm, but I quickly raised a finger to my lips to silence her. When she closed her mouth, I lowered my hand and continued to stroke Lord Winchester’s back.

It was a broad back. Even through the thin shirt I could feel the solid muscle beneath. Normally, such a back would seem strong and reassuringly manly.

But in this moment, that broad back felt terribly fragile. Lord Winchester seemed like a small, delicate child in need of protection.

Just like Daniel.

“You did well.”

After a few more strokes, the ragged rise and fall of his shoulders and back gradually quieted. Resting my cheek against his head as it leaned on my shoulder, I whispered softly.

“You’re a strong man. You’ll overcome a little poison like this.”

Was he hearing me? Could he hear my words right now?

“I believe in you.”

I prayed that he could.

I couldn’t hide my anxiety as I watched the doctor examine Lord Winchester. When he had rushed in, breathless, I had insisted he tend to the patient first before hearing any explanations.

But standing by helplessly with no idea of what was happening—it was impossible not to grow impatient.

“It seems we’ve passed the worst of it.”

At last, when I heard those words from the doctor, I finally let out a long sigh of relief. Beside me, Eden also exhaled deeply.

“The poison Lord Winchester ingested was called Partitan. I told you earlier I suspected it wasn’t an instantly fatal toxin, and it turns out that’s because Partitan is not a poison meant to kill.”

“Not meant to kill? But it’s poison—how can that be?”

“It’s a poison intended more to paralyze than to kill. In acute cases like Lord Winchester’s, it causes immediate collapse. But when given in small doses over time, it begins with paralysis of the hands and feet, eventually leading to total paralysis of the body.”

I gaped at his explanation. He said it wasn’t meant to kill, but what was the difference between total paralysis and death? If anything, it sounded even more horrific.

“But there’s something strange… or rather, perhaps I should say fortunate, or unusual.”

The doctor tilted his head thoughtfully.

“What is it?”

Already exasperated by the doctor’s roundabout way of speaking, Eden pressed him impatiently.

“Acute poisoning by Partitan is said to be enough to bring down an elephant, yet Lord Winchester went on to win the gladiatorial tournament. Isn’t that puzzling?”

The doctor turned his head, staring at the unconscious Lord Winchester with eyes full of curiosity. After the antidote, his face looked calmer, his complexion much improved.

“And when I returned, he seemed far more stable than when I had left. Ordinarily, the passage of time should have made his condition worse, not better.”

Hearing that Lord Winchester had improved rather than deteriorated made my own tense heart finally relax. For a moment, I’d feared something dire again.

This doctor’s way of speaking truly had a problem—why must he make people so anxious with his explanations?

“During your absence, Lord Winchester vomited. Could that have helped?”

“Ah, so that was it. Yes, by vomiting he expelled some of the remaining poison from his stomach. That must be why his condition did not worsen.”

The doctor nodded, looking satisfied as if the mystery had been solved.

“Inducing vomiting is a method we sometimes use ourselves if the ingestion is recent. Of course, it can injure the throat, and if the patient is unconscious it risks suffocation, but since the worst possible outcome is death, we do whatever we must to avoid it.”

At his words, my heart eased further. I had feared I had only worsened his suffering and sapped his strength in vain.

“You did very well. Countess Winchester, you saved Lord Winchester’s life.”

The doctor nodded. Beside him, Eden too turned to me and gave a nod.

“The crisis has passed. With continued doses of the antidote and some rest, he should recover soon.”

Hearing the doctor’s reassuring words at last brought the faintest smile to my lips.

Yesterday, I had worried because Lord Winchester’s hands and feet were so cold. But today, his body was burning with fever. Alarmed, I summoned the doctor, who explained that his body was battling the poison.

The troubling part was that he advised against giving him any fever medicine, since no one could predict how it might react with the antidote. All I could do was cool his body with wet towels and fan him.

“Bring some cold water and fresh towels.”

The water and cloth I had used several times were already lukewarm. At my instruction, the maid keeping vigil with me quickly rose.

“Madam, shouldn’t you take some rest?”

“I’m fine. I rested a bit during the day.”

“That was just to change clothes and nibble at some food. And even then, you barely ate…”

“I really am fine. Ah, also tell the kitchen to prepare a thin soup. I don’t know if he’ll be able to eat tomorrow when he wakes, but just in case.”

Right now, my concern was not myself, but Lord Winchester.

“Yes, Madam.”

The maid picked up the basin of tepid water and left. Already, beads of cold sweat dotted Lord Winchester’s forehead again.

I wiped his brow with the damp towel, then his neck. As I did, his jaw moved.

“Lord Winchester?”

Thinking he might be regaining consciousness, I quickly looked at him, but his eyelids were still closed. Only his brow was furrowed now.

“…ri.”

His lips moved faintly, forming an indistinct word.