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Chapter 13
Pear fruits, just beginning to glow with a luscious ripeness, hung heavily from the pear tree.
‘Perfect.’
Esiel didn’t hesitate for a second before rushing toward the tree. It was several times taller than her small frame, but she had to get the pears. However, as expected, she couldn’t even climb halfway up before sliding back down.
Her arms and ankles were scraped by the rough bark—an unwelcome bonus.
“Ow……”
Her arms were already covered in old injuries. But being used to pain didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
Just as she hesitated before trying again, a voice—looking down on her the entire time—rang out.
“What are you doing, you idiot? You’ll just hurt yourself like that. Wait.”
“Wait?”
Perudin appeared to go somewhere and soon returned with someone else—the estate’s gardener. Though small and thin, the man easily carried a ladder over one shoulder.
“How many?”
Perudin asked Esiel.
“U-um… then just two!”
“You heard her. Two.”
At Esiel’s hesitant answer, Perudin held up a V sign toward the gardener.
After that, everything proceeded quickly.
Despite Esiel’s scraped arms and legs, the gardener effortlessly used the ladder to pick the pears and handed them over. Esiel hugged them tightly and bowed deeply in gratitude, her red hair swaying.
“But what are you going to do with those?”
Perudin, who had been watching her quietly, asked.
“I’m going to make something.”
“Make something? What?”
As Esiel hesitated, Perudin’s ears turned slightly red. He asked as if expecting something.
“W-well……”
“What is it? Hurry up and say it.”
Just as Perudin pressed her, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth—
“Ah! I’m in a hurry, so I’ll go first! Thanks for helping me!”
Suddenly, Esiel rushed off. Though Perudin stood there dumbfounded, Esiel smiled brightly and waved energetically, carefully holding onto the pears as if she couldn’t bear to drop them.
Esiel walked as quietly as she could, making almost no sound.
On the tray in her small hands was a bowl so large it was almost the size of her face.
She carefully glared at the yellow liquid inside, trying not to spill it.
‘Pear soup is the best for colds!’
A pear floated in the bowl, studded with black peppercorns. Esiel’s face brightened with satisfaction as she looked at it. Her soft cheeks puffed slightly as she smiled.
After a long and careful walk, she finally arrived at Grand Duke Romford’s bedroom. The door was still slightly open. Esiel gently pushed it open with her back and slipped inside.
Unlike before, Romford was now sitting on the bed’s headboard, watching her enter. Documents filled with dense writing were scattered around him.
“Do you even know where you are coming?”
His hoarse voice drifted weakly through the room.
“Well… you seemed sick, so I made this.”
Esiel approached him with extra care. As she held out the tray, her sleeve slipped back, revealing fresh scratches on her wrist from the tree branches. She tried to act normal, but couldn’t meet his eyes.
“P-please eat it……”
Romford’s gaze briefly shifted to the scratches before landing on the tray. It was ridiculous—this tiny child offering something like this.
“Pear……”
His expression resembled Dopni’s earlier reaction. He looked like he might flip the bowl over any second. Esiel still didn’t realize pears were undervalued in this world.
“Th-this will cure you!”
Romford looked at the tray silently. More precisely, he looked past the trembling small hands to the fresh scratches on her wrist.
“Why did you act on your own?”
His voice was cold. Esiel almost dropped the tray but quickly tightened her grip.
“I saw your forehead was hot earlier. So I made this.”
“…What is this?”
“A-all-purpose cure!”
Desperate, Esiel pushed the tray closer again, as if afraid she might drop it.
“All-purpose cure? This?”
Romford’s eyebrow twitched as he looked at the yellow liquid and floating pear. It did not look appealing in the slightest.
“Hurry… it’ll get cold!”
Esiel’s green eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. Though trembling, she didn’t back down.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
Even though she answered quickly, Romford didn’t seem to care. His gaze kept drifting back to her wrist scratches.
But Esiel didn’t notice. She just wanted him to eat it quickly.
“Leave it.”
The order came.
Esiel hesitated but couldn’t move immediately. She opened her mouth several times but lacked the courage to speak.
Eventually, she placed the tray on the bedside table and slowly walked out.
“Make sure you finish it……”
She stopped at the door and peeked back inside.
Romford’s eyebrow twitched again.
“Also… you have to lie down after eating and sleep!”
“….”
“That’s part of the cure!”
Startled by his rising irritation, Esiel quickly added,
“I-I’m going now!”
Then she fled down the hallway, her footsteps echoing.
Romford clicked his tongue and returned to his documents. But as he read, Esiel’s voice kept echoing in his mind.
“You must finish it……”
And the image of her small shoulders dragging themselves out of the room lingered.
“Damn it.”
He threw the papers aside. Among the fluttering sheets, the tray came into view.
That small, insignificant child… and yet the food she made herself.
Romford stared at it for a moment before his mind again replayed her holding out the tray—especially those faint red scratches on her pale wrist.
Even battlefields full of blood had never left such an impression on him.
Slowly, he picked up the bowl and drank.
Then he set it back down, half-empty.
Leaning back against the bedhead, he closed his eyes, trying to erase the lingering image of the child.
But it was useless.
“Lente.”
Romford called sharply.
Soon, Lente hurried into the room.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Call a priest. One skilled in healing.”
“A priest? Your Grace isn’t injured… what is this about?”
Lente looked confused. It was not easy to bring a divine priest to the estate.
“Do it as soon as possible.”
There was no further explanation. Romford waved his hand dismissively and lay back down, trying to sleep.
The carriage raced smoothly along the road.
Romford was reviewing documents inside, dealing with the work he had missed due to his illness.
Beside him sat Chaltz, the Captain of the Knights.
If Lente was his right hand, then Chaltz was his left.
After observing Romford for a while, Chaltz spoke.
“Your Grace, I heard you had a cold, but you seem in better condition than before.”
“Is that so.”
Romford didn’t look up from the documents. Still, faint amusement tugged at his expression.
“Yes. That’s a relief.”
“So there really is such a thing as an all-purpose cure.”
Romford murmured softly.
Soon the carriage slowed to a stop—they had arrived at the Imperial Palace.
As Romford stepped down, the knights guarding the gate approached.
“I have come to see His Majesty the Emperor.”
Chaltz said while escorting him forward.
After a quick verification, the guards stepped aside and allowed them passage.
