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Chapter 2
This was no time for expectations.
“Hhhhhh…”
Even while writhing in pain, Libanu never once asked Grace for help.
“Young Master.”
Whenever Grace tried to assist, he sharply rejected her.
“G-get away from me!”
He recoiled as though she were some villain trying to harm him, avoiding even the slightest brush of her sleeve.
“…Fine.”
Then scream all you want.
Of course, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t understand.
From what Grace knew, Libanu’s childhood had been nothing but misery.
Much later, Prince Kavel—who had quite a depth of medical knowledge—discovered that Libanu’s skin disease wasn’t a mere rash, but Infinito Danio.
Only afterward did Foret strike the ground in regret, but by then it was far too late.
If only they had treated him properly from the start.
The moment Libanu showed promise, they turned on a dime, fawning over him—if it had been her, even the tiniest shred of affection would have disappeared.
Of course, from the Foret family’s perspective, losing an Infinito Danio was too much of a waste.
But then they should have done better from the beginning.
Infinito Danio was a congenital condition of mana excess.
Unlike ordinary people, those afflicted carried far too much mana within their bodies. When they couldn’t release it, it built up and caused the disease.
But if managed properly, this very illness could make one an unparalleled genius—whether a knight or a mage.
Unfortunately, Libanu’s misfortune was that the Foret family was a typical literary household.
“Young Master, is it very painful?”
Even after taking medicine, he was still suffering like this.
Watching Libanu groan quietly was a ghastly sight.
But to Grace, it evoked no emotion.
His skin was melting, giving off a nauseating stench.
Yet she was used to such smells, her body long immune to them.
Back when she herself had been a test subject, she had smelled such things endlessly.
She had endured far worse stenches—this was nothing.
Sure enough, when the medicine’s effect wore off, Libanu writhed in even greater pain, just as she had feared.
“Hhhhhh…”
“Should I… should I get more medicine?”
He clenched his fists so tightly that his pale flesh began to melt, dripping off like water.
“No… just leave. Hhh…”
“Young Master, I—”
“It only makes me uncomfortable if you stay. Please… just go.”
Now it was practically a plea.
Grace was only a lowly maid, so he could have lashed out however he wanted. But Libanu never did.
If anything, he was excessively humble.
That attitude left Grace a little taken aback.
She had expected him to be irritable from pain, but instead he was surprisingly calm.
Still, she couldn’t just blurt out, “I’ll cure your illness for you!” She needed to earn his trust somehow.
“Mmm…”
What should she do?
“Young Master, may I not leave?”
Best to chip away at his guard bit by bit.
“Why on earth—ugh!”
Libanu groaned in agony, clutching the headboard of his bed.
“Young Master, please let me do something. I already told you, I won’t leave.”
I can’t just walk away like this!
Despite his repeated refusals, Grace stood firm, her tone resolute.
Resigned, Libanu muttered that the medicine couldn’t be taken again so soon—the dose was already used.
“Why not?”
“It’s too toxic. Two vials per day is the limit.”
“Ah… then I’ll just stay by your side.”
When she refused to leave, he frowned deeply, puzzled.
“It’s miserable being alone when you’re in pain.”
Grace quickly offered the excuse, determined not to go.
“I’m not like that.”
Of course, he didn’t buy it. Grace felt like crying.
What a wall of stone he was.
This wasn’t how she’d imagined their first encounter at all.
Libanu told her to leave, Grace insisted on staying—the tug-of-war began.
In the end, after a few more rounds of arguing, it was Libanu who gave up first.
“Aaagh…”
Even with medicine, he had no moments of peace in a day.
Feeling a twinge of pity, Grace tried to nurse him as best she could.
Or at least, she tried.
Since he couldn’t take more medicine, all she could do was wipe his sweat as he writhed. But even that, he refused.
“Don’t… touch me…”
If things went on like this, it wouldn’t just be hard to befriend him—it would be impossible to win his trust. Grace grew anxious.
“Why not? Did I do something wrong? Or is there a reason?”
Her barrage of questions left Libanu blinking in confusion before he finally muttered:
“It feels disgusting…”
“Pardon?”
When Grace blinked at him, he said:
“I’m hideous… and I stink.”
“Young Master, I’ve never thought that of you.”
“Lies.”
Of course, blind praise would sound false. She mixed in honesty.
“True, there’s a smell. But I don’t think it’s horrible.”
“…What?”
Her blunt answer left Libanu baffled, his half-melted eyelids fluttering as he let out a disbelieving laugh.
“I mean it.”
As if it were nonsense, as if it were impossible, he watched her warily, then muttered in a softer tone than before:
“Don’t lie. You gain nothing from saying that.”
“I don’t want anything. I just don’t want you to suffer.”
Grace blinked innocently as she spoke.
Libanu looked quite unsettled.
No wonder—his previous maids had served only grudgingly.
No matter the rank, a maid’s treatment depended on her master’s authority.
Naturally, they all wanted to serve powerful masters.
In fact, Grace had only needed to say one word to take over as Libanu’s attendant—the previous maid had gladly handed the role over.
She had even asked how much money Grace wanted to take it off her hands.
That was how little they wanted to be here.
And the annex was truly barren.
In a building so decrepit it looked ready to collapse, only a bed sat in the middle. The air was so cold that every breath came out as mist.
With no firewood, the only options were chopping logs herself or wearing heavy clothes.
She had expected hardship, but not quite like this—it surprised her.
Still, she didn’t mind.
In fact, she believed that bonds forged in such circumstances would be real.
“…Do as you like.”
Libanu spoke as if daring her to try.
“Really? Then I can stay?”
“You’ll vanish after a month anyway.”
His wavering eyes looked at her, then he gave a bitter laugh.
For the first time, Libanu showed cynicism instead of calm.
He never expected her words to mean anything.
“…I suppose that’s how it’s always been.”
Libanu gave no further answer, just scratched at his forearm.
Chunks of melted flesh fell away, but the itch seemed to outweigh the pain—he kept scratching, drawing blood.
Watching him, unable to help, was agony in itself.
“Young Master, please call me if you need anything. I’d like to stay by your side, but honestly, I don’t feel very useful… I’m sorry for disobeying you earlier.”
That was enough—she’d achieved her goal.
Libanu himself had said she could stay.
“…”
He gave no reply, but Grace left the room with a lighter heart, tiptoeing out after glancing once more at his wounds.
In the corridor, she looked around.
The annex was used almost like a storeroom, junk piled in every corner, cobwebs and insects everywhere from lack of care.
Even Libanu’s bedroom was no different from a dust pit.
Clearly, his previous maids hadn’t bothered with cleanliness at all.
Why would they, when no one cared enough to notice?
But to Grace, this place looked like a gold mine.
A gold mine of chances to win Libanu’s heart.
“Hehe.”
Even if he was curt now, after a month of seeing her still there, tending everything diligently, his view would surely change.
Instead of scratching at his wounds, better to start with something else!
Grace grinned, hefting the cleaning tools high.
