DFBE 10

Chapter 10

Lucy sat down beside him and asked in a worried voice.

There was no answer from Bartholomew.

He was too busy clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.

Soon, he coughed up blood.

Seeing the alarming situation, Lucy’s expression turned serious.

“Lord Bartholomew?”

She called out to him again, but still there was no response.

It was as if he could not hear her voice at all.

Is he having some kind of seizure?

Lucy reached out toward him.

The moment her hand touched his shoulder, Bartholomew flinched violently.

“Don’t touch me!”

In an irritable voice, he grabbed Lucy’s hand.

He did not even seem to have the composure to show proper courtesy to an imperial princess.

“Ugh.”

Lucy let out a low groan at the rough grip around her hand.

She tried to pull away, but he was holding on so tightly that she could not free herself.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

This doesn’t feel like he’s trying to push me away.

Lucy looked at the hand gripping hers.

His hand was trembling faintly.

It’s more like… he’s clinging to my hand because he has nothing else to rely on.

Lucy stopped trying to pull away.

Instead, she twisted her wrist and firmly clasped his hand back.

“Where’s your medicine?”

“……”

“You must have some kind of emergency medication for times like this, right?”

Bartholomew let out a harsh breath.

With his free hand, he fumbled around near his chest.

Watching his unsteady movements, Lucy reached out.

She slipped her hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and felt something.

When she pulled it out, it was a small bottle shaped like a flask.

Opening it required two hands, but one of hers was still clasped in Bartholomew’s grip.

“I’ll open the cap, so hold the bottle.”

Lucy held the bottle in front of him.

Bartholomew, still gasping for breath, slowly blinked.

As he took the bottle with his trembling hand, Lucy quickly twisted the cap open.

Tilting the bottle over his palm, she shook out a single small pill.

A peculiar scent wafted up, causing Lucy’s brows to knit slightly.

Before she could identify the smell, Bartholomew immediately tossed the pill into his mouth.

He looks even worse than he did in front of the temple.

Lucy watched him quietly, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Cold sweat beaded across his forehead.

His hair was disheveled.

His lowered eyelashes trembled faintly.

And then—

Ding!

[New skill unlocked!]

[‘Aesthetician’ skill awakened!]

What?

Lucy stared blankly at the system window.

And “Aesthetician”? Was there even a skill like that?

Just from the name alone, it sounded utterly useless.

[You absentmindedly admired the most handsome man you have seen since starting the game.]

[Because of this, you feel something inside you awakening anew.]

[Beautiful things—whether nature, people, or objects—bring joy to humans.]

[Having realized this truth, you awaken as an ‘Aesthetician.’]

[Aesthetician Lv.1 — “It Starts with Being a Face Fanatic”]

[New stat added.]

[Gushing Power: 10]

Sadly, Lucy’s expectations had not been wrong.

Her very first skill turned out to be one she did not even want.

And what in the world was she supposed to use a stat called Gushing Power for?

To make matters worse, she had obtained the skill while looking at Bartholomew suffering so badly that he could barely think straight, leaving her with a strange sense of guilt.

While Lucy was still dumbfounded, Bartholomew gradually regained his senses after taking the medicine.

He noticed that he was still holding onto Lucy’s hand and tried to let go.

But Lucy would not release him.

“Keep holding on until you calm down completely.”

“There’s no need—”

“Oh, come on.”

The corners of Lucy’s lips lifted faintly.

“When I was really sick once…”

She recalled memories from her previous life.

When she had a terrible fever from a cold, her mother had stayed by her side all night, holding her hand.

“It felt like the pain lessened just from having someone hold my hand.”

Even in her delirious state, whenever she woke briefly and saw her mother, she had felt reassured.

Just knowing that someone who wanted to protect her was beside her had brought immense comfort.

Bartholomew listened silently before speaking in a low, husky voice.

“I’m truly fine now.”

He tried once more to pull his hand away, and this time Lucy let go.

His condition seemed much more stable now.

Bartholomew stared silently at the hand that had held onto Lucy’s.

Then he slowly clenched it into a fist.

“Should I call someone?”

At Lucy’s question, Bartholomew shook his head.

Watching him stubbornly keep his mouth shut, Lucy pulled out a handkerchief.

She offered it to him, but Bartholomew merely stared at it as though he did not understand why she was giving it to him.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Lucy carefully reached out.

As she wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the handkerchief, Bartholomew flinched again.

Only then did he seem to realize what a mess he must look like.

“Stop.”

Bartholomew spoke shortly and avoided her touch.

His gaze shifted from Lucy’s sleeve, stained with his blood, to the back of her hand.

Red finger marks were left on her pale, delicate-looking skin.

They were from how desperately he had grabbed her without controlling his strength.

“…Do you really…”

Bartholomew slowly opened his mouth.

“…need my help that badly?”

Lucy blinked in surprise.

“There are plenty of people besides me who would help you.”

Though he did not mention anyone specifically, Bartholomew recalled Cecil carrying Lucy in his arms earlier.

After feeling suffocated in his private room, he had gone for a walk in the garden and happened to see Lucy digging through the ground despite the attendants’ attempts to stop her.

He had also seen her smiling brightly as she handed whatever she found to Cecil.

Then, moments later, Lucy suddenly lost all color and collapsed.

Seeing that, Bartholomew’s legs had instinctively twitched.

But before he could step forward, Cecil had already carefully lifted Lucy into his arms.

Watching that scene, Bartholomew realized there was neither room nor need for him to interfere.

It seemed obvious that this woman was already surrounded by people who wanted to help her.

“There aren’t.”

Lucy answered calmly, leaving Bartholomew momentarily speechless.

“And even if there were, I wouldn’t need them.”

Lucy shook her head firmly.

“The only person I need is you, Lord Bartholomew.”

“……”

“If it’s not Lord Bartholomew, then it means nothing.”

Bartholomew slowly raised the head he had lowered.

Their eyes met.

He studied Lucy as if searching for something, and Lucy did not avoid his gaze.

After staring at one another in silence for a long moment, they spoke at the same time.

“What kind of help do you need?”

“You’re seriously so handsome.”

“……”

“……?”

Even Lucy doubted her own ears after hearing the words leave her mouth.

Why would she say that in a situation like this?

I mean, he is handsome, but still!

This was absolutely not the time to blurt something so airheaded out—

Wait.

Lucy hurriedly checked her status window.

Beside her name, the title [Aesthetician Lv.1 — “It Starts with Being a Face Fanatic”] was blinking pink.

That skill activated and made me say something so cringeworthy?

This was a disaster.

Lucy hurriedly looked at Bartholomew.

The color that had only just begun returning to his face drained away again.

He slowly leaned away from her.

“Please pretend you didn’t hear what I just said.”

As though trying to flee from her, Bartholomew rose to his feet, but Lucy hastily grabbed the hem of his clothes.

“You already heard it! How can you pretend you didn’t?!”

“……”

“You have to take responsibility for your own words! That’s a gentleman’s duty, isn’t it? Right?”

“…Please let go of my clothes before you say that.”

“……You’re going to run away if I let go.”

Having his intentions exposed, Bartholomew reluctantly sat back down.

Still unable to trust him, Lucy refused to release the hem of his clothing.

Turning his head absentmindedly to the side, Bartholomew’s eyes widened slightly at how close Lucy’s face suddenly was.

Her eyes were filled with desperation as she stared at him with overwhelming intensity.

Avoiding her gaze, he brushed back his messy hair.

“What exactly is it that you want to ask of me?”

Lucy’s face immediately brightened.

Before she could answer, Bartholomew spoke first.

“If it’s about the imperial banquet, I will not attend.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Bartholomew chose not to answer.

Tilting her head, Lucy soon smiled as if she understood.

“You’ve been avoiding the banquets because you’re afraid another attack like this might happen, right? But this time, I’ll be there, so don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand again like I did just now.”

“…Do you really think that solves anything?”

Just imagining himself showing such a state in front of other nobles was enough to give Bartholomew a headache.

But Lucy looked completely unable to understand why he found the idea so horrifying.

“What exactly is it that you want to do at the imperial banquet?”

“Well, obviously…”

Lucy broke into a radiant smile.

“I want Lord Bartholomew to be my dance partner.”