FDND 13

Chapter – 13

Is This a Dream, Too?

I looked up at Gaspar, who was standing over me.
He looked nothing like the refined young master he usually was—his nightclothes were rumpled, his face streaked with tears.

And in his arms, he held a white cat.

It was such a ridiculous sight that I wondered if I was still dreaming.

“What’s going on?”

“…Yor is sick.”

I turned to look at Yor in surprise.

Though Gaspar was holding him carefully, the cat was limp, his body slack like a doll’s.

“What? Then you should call a doctor!”

“…I heard you once taught the servants about herbal remedies used among commoners.”

Now that I looked more closely, Yor’s mouth was stained yellow. There were traces of vomit—some of it had even gotten onto Gaspar’s sleeve and chest.

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke.

“They said… the remedies you taught helped a lot before. The doctors can’t do anything. They said there’s no hope…”

Gaspar’s tone was desperate.

If the doctors had given up, Yor must really be in bad shape…

Could I even help?

I did study poisons—though that’s related to medicine, dealing with animals was a different matter. I wasn’t confident.

“Please help me.”

But the pleading look in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

If he came to me of all people…
The boy who couldn’t stand me…

“What exactly is wrong with him?”

“He keeps throwing up and won’t eat. The doctors say… he’s just old and it’s his time to go.”

“How old is he?”

“Eight.”

Hmm. That’s not really old for a cat. There must be another cause.

“When did he last eat?”

“The morning before yesterday.”

“And when did he start vomiting?”

“This afternoon…”

“Lay him down for me.”

Just days ago, at the picnic, Yor’s fur had been sleek and shiny. Now it was dull and dry like hay.

He really wasn’t doing well.

I began to gently run my hands along Yor’s body, looking for any clues.

Gaspar, sitting beside me, started sniffling again.

“Hhkk… Yor…”

“He’ll be fine.”

He tried to hold back his sobs after that, though not very successfully.

Still, he was clearly trying not to distract me, so I focused on Yor.

No sores, no lumps… I was still checking when a small voice fell from above my head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“…?”

“…For telling you to go back to the streets. Hhk… I’m sorry.”

I thought he was apologizing to Yor—but surprisingly, it was directed at me.

Once he started, the words came out between shaky breaths.

“And I didn’t really pull your hair that time… hhk… your braid was just so long, I wanted to touch it. I swear! Really… sniff…”

Just as he spoke, I pressed gently on Yor’s belly—

“Meow!”

“Ah?”

“I didn’t mean to! You just suddenly stood up and… And when I said your name was weird, hhkk… I was just in a bad mood, that’s all…”

Weird.

At the picnic, Yor had rolled over and shown me his belly—he’d always been gentle and affectionate.

If he was reacting like this now, that meant—

“Gaspar, hold his front legs for me.”

“And the time you first ate with us, when I said you were noisy… I’m sorry for that too…”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I forgive you. Now hold Yor’s legs tight.”

Still sniffling, Gaspar did as I said.

“I’m going to press on his belly a bit, so don’t let him move.”

Yor squirmed as I gently felt around his stomach. Gaspar’s eyes were full of panic, but I soon pulled my hand back and let the cat go.

“Meooow!”

“What did you do? Is Yor okay?”

“Yeah. I think I found the cause.”

“Really?!”

I grinned and pointed at Yor’s belly.

“He’s constipated!”

“What…?”

Hic.

Gaspar blinked at me, tears still clinging to his lashes. He clearly hadn’t expected that.

“His belly’s all hard and stretched out. Cats get constipated really easily! Not eating, throwing up—it’s all because he can’t go.”

And lucky for us, I happened to know a remedy.

I looked at Yor and said confidently,

“Yor, let’s get you pooping again!”

“Meooow.”

✳ ✳ ✳

Plantago is a weed.

Its wrinkled round leaves grow close to the ground, and in summer, long stalks rise from the center, bearing small flowers.

It’s tough enough to grow even in the sunless underground city, thriving anywhere. In early spring, the tender roots serve as emergency food for starving peasants.

But it’s also a medicinal herb.

When the dried leaves are boiled, they soothe the throat and lungs. Pharmacies and households alike keep them on hand.

Still, the real treasure lies in the seeds.

Plantago seeds are a powerful cure for constipation.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the season for harvesting them.

But I’d heard they grew well in the north—so there was still hope.

As soon as morning came, I went straight to the food storeroom.

“Do you have any plantago seeds here?”

The storekeeper greeted me with a polite bow and replied,

“Plantago, miss? We have both seeds and dried leaves.”

Perfect. I knew it.

“I’ll take the seeds, please!”

My next stop was Gaspar’s room.

Together, we ground a handful of seeds into fine powder.

We mixed it with water and gave it to Yor in five small doses, then spent the whole day running around with him to get him moving.

And finally—

Yor went to the litter box.

“Did it work?”

“I–It worked!”

For the first time in five days, Yor had a successful bowel movement.

He even ate his dinner afterward without trouble.

“Yay—no more constipation!”

I raised my arms high in victory.

Gaspar’s face turned red.

“You—you’re a girl! How can you just say stuff like that?!”

“Like what? Constipation?”

“Yes, that!”

“Well, what else should I call it?”

“Jeez!”

Gaspar’s nose was pink now as he stared at the floor, clearly flustered, but I just went on, unfazed.

“For now, keep Yor’s food soft like this.”

“…Got it.”

“And make sure he drinks plenty of water. Yaaawn…”

“Are you sleepy?”

“So sleepy. I’m going to bed.”

After losing sleep last night and waking early, I was exhausted.

And chasing Yor around all afternoon hadn’t helped.

I headed for my room. Gaspar trailed right behind me.

“…Why are you following me?”

He jumped, eyes wide, when I turned around.

Then he fidgeted, lips opening and closing, before finally screwing up his face and blurting,

“I—I’ll acknowledge you as my sister!”

“…?”

I just stared at him. His nose, his cheeks, even his ears were bright red.

“Th-Then… good night, Marguerite!”

Twisting awkwardly, Gaspar turned on his heel and bolted down the hall.

…That kid.

Guess he really was grateful.

Watching him run off like that was actually kind of cute.

Maybe things would finally go smoothly between us now.

✳ ✳ ✳

That evening, at dinner.

The grand dining hall was as elegant and quiet as ever—filled with warmth, light, and delicious smells.

Except for one thing.

“Welcome, Marguerite.”

It was Gaspar.

After that dramatic “I’ll accept you as my sister” declaration, I figured something between us might change—

But I didn’t expect this.

The moment I arrived, he stood up to pull out my chair for me.

I wasn’t the only one taken aback.

Every member of the family froze, mouths slightly open, staring.

Especially Louise—her usual graceful smile was gone, replaced with a deep scowl.

“Sit here.”

But Gaspar ignored everyone else and patted the seat beside him.

I scrambled to save face.

“I–I think I’ll sit next to Madam instead!”

“Oh? Then I’ll move.”

…That backfired.

Gaspar darted over, switching seats so fast I didn’t even have time to react.

He sat down beside me as if nothing was strange, calmly spreading his napkin.

Our eyes met.

“Hehe.”

He smiled brightly—so bright I couldn’t even scold him.

He’s never smiled like that before.

And yet, for some reason, a sense of dread crept over me.

I had a bad feeling this was going to get… troublesome.

And sure enough—

“Isn’t it nice having your big brother here?”

That was the beginning of what I would later call—

The Big Brother Hell.