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Chapter 04
“What do you mean by an incurable illness, Father?”
Psyche stared at Count Clement with trembling eyelids. To her, it was an endless series of declarations she simply could not understand.
She could understand being advised to give up her inheritance. In the Sigar Empire, if an heir renounced their inheritance, they would not inherit debts along with the estate.
In other words, it meant Psyche would not have to live burdened by the Clement family’s debts.
Of course, if enormous debts existed, renouncing inheritance was not easily approved.
One had to prove they lacked the ability to repay the debts, and if Psyche were to marry someone, giving up the inheritance would become nearly impossible. Her spouse’s assets would also have to be taken into account.
If she chose not to marry and ran away alone, she would have to abandon her noble title and family, but she could escape her current desperate life.
Though Count and Countess Clement would remain trapped in that life, slowly suffocating within it.
Psyche wanted neither outcome.
“Are you very ill?”
Without answering, Count Clement twisted his face—a face resembling Psyche’s. Both of them had grown exhausted from pretending to be calm and deceiving each other through hardship.
Psyche kept staring at her father’s deeply lined face as it quivered painfully.
The eyes that had always looked at her with certainty now held resignation.
The kind and dependable father who had shaped the Psyche of today no longer seemed to exist.
“They say my heart can no longer perform its function properly. It’s an unprecedented, rare heart disease, so finding treatment is difficult.”
“……”
“Fortunately, Doctor Pascal took interest in my condition and agreed to help under the condition that he be allowed to study the illness. So do not worry, Psyche.”
Count Clement continued speaking slowly and smiled faintly.
Yet the resignation clouding his eyes—eyes that still resembled Psyche’s—did not disappear.
“…Father, the cost of medicine alone must be enormous. Do you know why that person is showing you such kindness?”
Psyche stared fixedly at her father’s troubled face.
She recalled the hint her mother had given earlier. Hadn’t she mentioned needing money for medicine?
Her father hid his worries behind a faint smile, but eventually the truth would reveal itself.
He could not hide everything forever. The hotter Psyche’s head grew, the colder her reason became.
“Father, could you swear to God that what you just told me is true?”
Psyche had never believed in God even once. If God truly existed, the world could not be this cruel.
The debts accumulated since her grandfather’s generation had finally driven her father into an endless struggle to erase them.
Yet she had never once heard her father lament their circumstances or resent her grandfather.
Really—if God existed, how could He allow this to happen to her father?
“No. God can’t possibly exist. Father, let me ask again. Can you truly lie to me?”
She spoke blasphemous words she had never even dared imagine uttering.
The Sigar Empire was deeply religious, and disbelief in God was treated as heresy.
Still, Psyche believed Count Clement likely thought similarly.
One could lie to God, perhaps—but in the end, one could not hide everything from family.
At least, Psyche believed that.
“I thought I could, if necessity demanded it.”
“……”
“And I still think so.”
“Father.”
Yet Count Clement still did not tell the truth.
Psyche understood him, but at the same time she did not.
“Psyche, it is true I accepted the doctor’s help. You may not be able to understand or accept all of it. But there is only one thing this father wishes to tell you.”
“…Father. I only—”
“Do not involve yourself with the Clement family any longer. I intend to hand the family over to someone suitable. Surely there will be someone who wants this house.”
A wave of nausea surged.
Psyche forced herself to swallow down the painful fragments of emotion scratching at her throat.
Count Clement had already made his decision. This was not a discussion between them—it was merely a notification.
“Return to your room at once.”
“…Yes.”
Psyche mulled over every argument lingering in her mouth before finally stepping back.
Because the one who understood her father yet could not accept him… was herself.
Psyche clenched her fists and bowed politely. Count Clement, seemingly unwilling to respond at all, merely turned his gaze away.
“I understand your wishes, Father. But even if you oppose me, I will protect this family.”
Her meaning was clear.
The advice her father once gave—that one must clearly state what they want—was now returned to him this day.
Psyche overlapped the image of the father in her memories with the man before her and lowered her head.
There was no point endlessly speaking to someone who gave no answer. She strengthened her resolve and turned away.
She had intended to leave the room.
If not for the dry coughing that struck her ears.
Several rough coughs echoed.
Count Clement, coughing without pause, suddenly let out a pained groan.
The sound of his ragged breathing made Psyche feel as though her thoughts had stopped.
“…Psyche.”
His voice calling her had grown hoarse from continuous coughing.
Psyche stood frozen, stunned.
“I’m sorry… to you, I…”
The words barely escaped his lips, one by one—
—and then stopped.
“…Father?”
“……”
People say humans instinctively sense danger.
The saying was not wrong.
A chilling shiver crawled down her spine, making her body tremble.
Psyche slowly turned back along the path she had walked.
The linen skirt brushing against the season’s cold wind fluttered stiffly in the air.
“Father!”
A scream burst from her.
Covering her mouth with both hands, she staggered forward.
Her body had already gone rigid; every step threatened to collapse her legs beneath her.
Count Clement clutched his chest with one hand, gasping desperately.
Psyche hurried to kneel before him and grabbed his sleeve.
“Father! You have to stay conscious. Please!”
Somehow, she had to save him—save the situation before her.
But Psyche was terrified by the sight unfolding before her eyes.
The realistic fear that she might lose her family—lose the father she thought would stay beside her forever—cornered her.
Yet despite her desperate cries, Count Clement slipped deeper into convulsions.
“I’ll… I’ll call someone immediately…”
“…Khk.”
The eyes that once looked warmly at Psyche, and at times avoided her out of guilt, lost their focus and wandered aimlessly.
Watching those lifeless, spinning eyes, Psyche slowly released the sleeve she had clung to like a lifeline.
“A-ah… Father.”
Her weakened hand slipped to the floor.
She swayed in place repeatedly, expression blank.
Her mind had been bleached white.
But if she did not move, her father would not survive.
That fear forced Psyche forward.
She took one step—
and her legs gave out.
She tried to rise again, but strength no longer returned to her collapsed limbs.
Practically crawling, Psyche dragged her fallen body across the floor and reached out.
After several attempts, her hand finally touched the emergency bell cord connected to the antechamber.
Only then did the tension leave her.
“The emergency treatment has been completed, so there is no need to worry.”
Psyche slowly opened and closed her eyes.
“Oh heavens… Lord above, thank you.”
While Countess Clement crossed herself and offered prayers to God, Psyche began sorting through the chaotic thoughts in her mind.
Soon, her eyes met the doctor adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses.
She let out a small breath and bowed.
The doctor lowered his gaze and returned the gesture.
Turning away from him, Psyche looked toward the man standing behind her.
The man known as the Grand Duke’s messenger.
The man with unpleasant eyes.
“Thank you. I shamelessly accepted your help.”
When their eyes met, the man slowly lifted the corners of his lips.
She understood it was his way of answering.
“I’m fine, Psyche.”
Hearing her father’s voice, Psyche lowered her gaze.
Count Clement had narrowly survived death thanks to the man’s help.
Finding a doctor—and bringing one here quickly—was extremely difficult, because qualified physicians were so few.
Psyche had only managed to save her father by reluctantly accepting help from the Grand Duke’s messenger.
She did not know what methods the messenger used, but the doctor had arrived at the estate immediately.
The doctor advised them to permanently station someone capable of emergency treatment at the mansion, since situations like this would likely happen often in the future.
Psyche was sincerely grateful to the Grand Duke’s messenger.
Without him, handling the crisis would have been nearly impossible.
For a moment, she wondered how she appeared reflected in the messenger’s blue eyes.
But she decided not to wonder.
Sometimes truths were better left buried.
When her eyes met the man’s again, Psyche slowly parted her lips.
“Could we speak privately for a moment?”
