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Chapter 41
The early summer sunlight pierced through the window, filling the Young Viscount’s study with warmth.
Cassian Sarkis stood by the sunlit window, gazing down at the garden.
“It’s been quite a while, little one. Every time I see you, you seem to grow more into a young lady.”
“Thank you, Mother! I’ll try to visit more often from now on, just like before.”
Since Damia had begun to blend into his daily life, a few seasons had passed in what felt like an instant.
Unlike his gradually weakening heart, the time they spent together seemed to fly unusually fast.
“I wanted to hold a grand party for your fifteenth birthday…”
And now, Cassian Sarkis had turned seventeen.
Even though he coughed up blood every night, he stubbornly clung to life, refusing to die.
Two years had been enough to steal the boyish innocence from Cassian’s face.
Now, standing on the border between boy and man, his gaze was languid and weary.
“That’s alright. A friend from the Rodion Kingdom came to visit, so we’ll be spending time together after a long while!”
Damia Fonti had also turned fifteen.
She still faithfully adhered to the ridiculous clauses of their temporary engagement contract, holding her place as his fiancée.
‘A friend from the Rodion Kingdom? That brat’s coming?’
She still effortlessly spoke words that would unsettle him from the inside.
‘If everything goes as it should, there’s about a year left, isn’t there?’
It had been quite a while since she had visited the Viscount’s residence. Damia walked toward Cassian’s study, lost in thought.
In the Velotea Empire, adulthood began at eighteen. In her previous life, Cassian Sarkis had died before reaching adulthood.
If everything went the same as before, the perfect Young Viscount would die in a year.
Just one year.
Damia bit her lip tightly.
“Young Viscount, it’s me.”
She knocked on the study door, and a voice soon gave her permission to enter.
A pleasant mid-low tone. It made her realize just how close Cassian was to adulthood.
“When did you arrive?”
Cassian was leaning back on a sofa, reading a book.
His height had shot up, shoulders broadened, jawline sharper—far more manly than when they first met.
The shadows cast by the sunlight enhanced the elegance of his face even more.
“Just now. But… didn’t you notice I’d arrived?”
“Hm. The butler mentioned that you’d come, I think.”
“That’s strange. Earlier, when I was in the garden with Mother, I thought I saw your face reflected in the window.”
“…That didn’t happen. You imagined it.”
Even at seventeen, her fiancé still couldn’t be honest.
And his habit of stubborn pride over trivial things remained unchanged.
“Is that so? I wondered if you were waiting for me.”
“Why would I?”
“You haven’t seen me in a while. You’ve always been busy, and I…”
“What is it that you want?”
Cassian furrowed his brows slightly. He very slowly set the book he was holding down.
‘He’s been on the same page the whole time.’
All so obvious, yet he still pretends to read.
“Do I need a reason to visit my fiancé?”
“……”
Cassian didn’t answer. His lips moved slightly as if hesitating.
‘What creative, irritating thing is he going to say this time?’
Damia decided to ease his worry.
“Whatever you say, it won’t really hurt me, you know that, right?”
“You…”
“Are you feeling alright physically?”
His flawless face remained, but the signs of illness were evident.
His gaunt cheeks contrasted sharply with his vivid red eyes. Pale skin, perhaps due to a heart that didn’t function properly.
There was an attraction that drew attention, as if he might collapse at any moment, but the limited-time nature of his life showed through faintly.
In her previous life, Cassian had gradually reduced his public appearances around this time. The weekly tea parties of the Viscount family became increasingly rare in summer.
He claimed to be busy with succession issues. At the time, Damia believed him.
But now she realized his condition had visibly worsened.
‘This was around when Count Pavron approached Cassian.’
After bankrupting Damia’s father, he had kept the girl at the Count’s residence even before their marriage.
The Count never physically harmed Damia, but he starved her or insulted her in front of everyone.
He even forced her to make enough medicine to leave her hands rough and sore.
In her previous life, Cassian often visited the Count’s residence to obtain that medicine.
Damia vividly remembered how the once-bright boy had grown weaker over time.
“I modified the medicine’s formula. It should be easier to swallow now.”
“Isn’t that troublesome? You could just have someone deliver it.”
“Everyone’s curious since you’ve been going out less. It’s better I handle it directly than risk rumors leaking.”
“Ask one of the trusted servants or knights I assigned to the Fonti estate. They can be trusted.”
Two years ago, someone presumed to be a dragon set fire to the Fonti estate.
Cassian had repaired the Viscount’s residence, making it worthy of a noble home, carrying the Duchess of Sarkis on his back.
He provided enough servants—reliable maids, mercenaries, and knights—to be considered overkill.
Damia didn’t hide the fact that she had revived the Dragon’s Bane for him. They had done their best over the past two years.
Because she had given him the medicine much earlier than in her previous life, Cassian’s current condition was likely better than before.
Yet his body was still gradually deteriorating.
Still, he participated in monster hunts using his innate strength, achieving results even as a boy.
His overwhelming skill concealed his illness, fooling everyone, but Damia knew.
If he were truly healthy, his current achievements would have been only the beginning.
“No, I’m busy too. I didn’t say you had to visit.”
“I know that too.”
He handled errands and outings in batches when he felt well.
He had to continuously prove that the main heir of the Sarkis family was in good health.
“But even with that excuse, I still want to see you, Young Viscount.”
Cassian bit his lip lightly, as if suppressing a smile.
“Isn’t it about time you gave up on me?”
He asked, as if regaining his composure.
“If I had, wouldn’t I have not proposed in the first place?”
“…Still, no.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t come so often now. Mother should start detaching herself from you gradually.”
“Young Viscount, if you keep doing this, I’ll really be upset.”
“What if I truly die before reaching adulthood, like in your dream?”
A brief, heavy silence fell. Damia lowered her gaze.
“That was just a child’s dream.”
“Why the sudden humility? Two years ago, you were so confident, calling it a prophecy.”
Cassian twisted one side of his lips.
“I had a crush on you back then too, Young Viscount. I often dreamed of you, and some of those dreams just happened to come true.”
“Only a very few people in the family knew I was terminally ill.”
“Young Viscount…”
“How did you know that herb would affect my curse?”
Cassian realized Damia had her reasons she couldn’t reveal.
Since she seemed troubled, and he now trusted her, he didn’t press further.
“Kids are imaginative, you know. Maybe you had all kinds of dreams in adolescence.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Think about it. You never hit any targets with dreams after that.”
Who would believe her now if she spoke of her previous life?
Moreover, she couldn’t guarantee to Cassian that he wouldn’t die early this time, unlike in her previous life.
It had all been dreams, so the only choice was to cling to hope.
“You’re still a child, Damia Fonti.”
That was clearly a distortion.
Over the past two years, Damia had grown enough to look like a young lady.
Her once painfully thin frame was now slender in a pleasing way, and her pale cheeks had a rosy glow.
Her delicate facial features remained, and her amethyst-like purple eyes drew attention.
Because of her unexpectedly melancholic aura for her age, young noble men of her peer group would stop talking and fixate on her whenever she appeared.
