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Chapter 21
Sorcery
“Yes, my lord.”
The servant’s serious response only made things worse for Windsor, whose voice was already faltering.
Erné flailed the handkerchief Windsor had handed her in a panic.
“I-I-I’m really fine!”
She was so startled, her voice rose uncontrollably.
“You can’t possibly be fine… Your clothes are completely ruined. This is clearly my mistake. I’m so sorry, Ellen.”
“Wait, hold on! Windsor!”
Erné thought Windsor was just flustered and apologetic for ruining her outfit. Just juice, right? But why call for a physician?
“Why are you calling the physician?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The well-being of the princess—no, of the teacher—is important to me.”
Erné suppressed a scream and tried her best to stay calm.
She was startled by his answer and shook her head violently.
“No, that’s not it. I don’t need a physician…”
But Windsor wasn’t listening anymore.
Instead, he kept apologizing, while the servant dashed off to fetch the physician.
“You’re not burned, are you? You might have sustained a scald. It’s best to get checked. I’m truly sorry, Ellen. Your dress is…”
She couldn’t make sense of a single thing this man was saying.
Holding up the empty cup, Erné spoke, exasperated.
“It’s juice.”
A few drops of orange liquid trickled from the cup.
What kind of new trick is this? Erné narrowed her eyes.
＊＊＊
Erné hadn’t realized how stubborn Windsor could be. Now she sat in the bedroom, clearly displeased.
“I told you I’m fine, didn’t I?”
“It may have been juice, but it could’ve been hot juice.”
“…Are you trying to make me laugh?”
No response. As usual, he remained silent when it wasn’t in his favor.
“Spilling juice can also cause psychological trauma.”
“I think you’re the one who needs to be examined by the physician.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sigh.”
And somehow, the clothes Windsor prepared fit her perfectly.
Erné sighed and looked down at the dress she’d changed into.
Why does a house without any women have a dress like this?
When she eyed him suspiciously, Windsor simply avoided her gaze and muttered it was for unexpected guests.
It felt fishy, but nobles often kept extra outfits for guests. So she let it slide.
And now the physician was checking Erné’s pulse under Windsor’s strict orders.
It was the price of losing the argument against his strange logic.
What does spilled juice have to do with a doctor, anyway?
Feeling slightly worn out, Erné offered her hand in resignation.
The physician seriously focused on her pulse for a while.
“Is Teacher Ellen unwell?”
Of course not!
Erné shook her head in disbelief at Windsor’s question.
Now she realized: the dark-hearted Windsor was far more exhausting than expected. The way he fussed…
“Your bronchial tubes are quite weak.”
“…What?”
Erné was stunned. She had expected to be told she was in perfect health.
“Your heart is also quite weak. Your pulse is faint. Overall, you’re very frail. You shouldn’t exert yourself for long periods.”
W-what?!
Erné shook her head furiously.
“I knew it,” Windsor murmured darkly.
But she was the one saying she was fine. Why was no one listening?
She quickly pulled her hand back from the doctor and insisted,
“I’m fine. Check again! I’m completely healthy!”
“Teacher…”
The physician bowed his head gravely. His expression was grim.
“I’m very sorry… You may never recover. You may live with a weak body for the rest of your life. Or worse…”
He bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes, unable to continue.
Erné stared blankly at the tearful man, stunned.
She was just about to say, “Windsor. I think this guy’s a quack.”
“Ellen… I didn’t know you were this sick…”
But when she saw Windsor’s devastated face, the words caught in her throat.
But I really am healthy…
Frustrated, Erné clutched her chest, unsure how to make them believe her.
“Teacher Ellen! Is your chest… are you in pain?”
“What’s wrong, Ellen? Is it hard to breathe? Why are you standing there? She’s in distress! Treat her immediately!”
“Yes, sir, Duke!”
At Windsor’s somber command, the physician hurriedly wiped his tears and pulled out the herbs he’d brought.
“First, I’ll make a decoction that’s good for the heart…”
“And one for the bronchial tubes. And one for vitality and mental stability.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Be sure to measure the ratios correctly. If any side effects occur, you’ll answer for them.”
“Understood! As a doctor, I swear on my honor!”
Watching the two of them click so perfectly without her, Erné slumped.
They clearly had no intention of listening to a single word she said.
She’d run away from a dysfunctional royal family, only to end up tangled with this bizarre dark household.
Well, this is the man destined to destroy the Neshard Kingdom.
Even something as simple as making a tonic was treated with dramatic gravity here.
There was no in-between in this house.
Not a single peaceful day in her life.
Resigned, Erné pulled the blanket up and muttered,
“Excuse me.”
“Yes, Ellen?”
Windsor immediately responded and stepped closer.
His determination to hear every word was evident.
Erné gave a bitter smile.
No one here is sane…
Except the kids. Feeling overwhelming fatigue, she let her eyelids fall.
“Right now…”
“Say it. I’ll do anything.”
“In that case, I won’t hold back.”
“…”
“I want to be alone. Please leave.”
A very clear dismissal.
“I’m going to sleep.”
What Erné needed most was a nap.
So everyone, please just get lost.
As sleep overtook her, she could faintly hear Windsor and the doctor talking—but she drifted off before she could make out any of it.
＊＊＊
“Ribera.”
“Oh. You’re here?”
The sun reflected off the red hair, making it look like a vivid flame.
Long, shiny red locks swayed in the breeze.
Noma, with her bright orange vibes, leapt down from the wall and greeted her twin.
Wiping her nose and dusting her hands, Noma was met with Ribera’s dazzling smile.
“I told you to use the door like a normal person. Stop climbing the wall.”
“Okay.”
“You’re just saying that again, aren’t you.”
Ribera bombarded her with nagging the moment she returned from checking on Erné. Noma pouted.
Clearly, Ribera was sulking because she hadn’t gone too.
“How’s Erné?”
“She’s doing great. I told her we’d go together next time. What’s the situation at the palace?”
Noma pulled up a chair and casually peered at Ribera’s documents.
Unlike the rough-and-tumble Noma, Ribera was calm, meticulous, and cautious.
While Noma took on active missions, Ribera always worked at the desk with paperwork.
“If you’re talking about that idiot Derrick who made Erné cry—he’s still groveling at the queen’s feet.”
“Begging for her to find his fiancée, huh?”
“And that loudmouth girl too.”
Ugh, what a pair. Noma scowled.
Then she paused and tilted her head, glancing at Ribera.
“You’re starting to sound a lot like Erné.”
“Erné’s fun.”
Noma nodded. She’d always known how obsessed her twin was with Erné.
Ribera had always wanted to do everything Erné did—copying her taste, her expressions, even her way of speaking.
Yeah, she’s definitely a hopeless case.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. More pressing was the political mess without Erné.
Just days ago, the queen had officially named her successor throughout the Neshard Kingdom.
It caused major ripples.
Especially since the annulment papers hadn’t been processed yet.
Derrick Babylon was still acting like a prince consort, and anything he said in the Assembly held massive sway.
He was so full of himself that even other nobles whispered behind his back, calling him the most annoying Babylon of them all.
There’s no way we’re letting Erné end up with someone like that.
Noma shook her head, disgusted.
“Oh, right. A new request came in through the Crows. I was hoping you’d take it.”
Ribera, flipping through documents, pulled a thick file from a drawer and handed it over.
“Already making your blood relative work right after a mission?”
“Better than being unemployed.”
“…True.”
Another job, already. Noma pouted.
But Ribera wasn’t budging.
“It’s a request to find a child.”
“A child?”
“Born in Rank. The mother thought the baby had died, but later found out from the midwife that the child lived. She has no idea where it is now and wants us to track them down.”
“…Rank?”
“Yeah. Our hometown.”
Lately, there were too many odd things happening around Rank. Noma narrowed her eyes.
Too many coincidences to just ignore.
While she pondered, Ribera sighed and added,
“She doesn’t even know what the kid looks like. But luckily, we’ve got a lead. The child was born eight years ago.”
“And?”
“There’s a star-shaped mark on the sole of the child’s foot.”
“What the—seriously?”
Noma frowned hard. A star mark on a baby’s foot?
It sounded more plausible that the child had hatched from an egg.
But Ribera sealed it with a final blow—apparently, the mother had already paid a hefty advance.
“She swears it’s true. Start by checking local orphanages or adoption records. We might find something.”
“I’m the one doing the legwork, you know? You’re so annoying.”
“One more thing. The child has a weak heart.”
“What if they’ve recovered?”
“Then that’s great. The kid’s healthy. Erné always says it—children are the future of Neshard.”
“There you go again.”
Whatever the topic, Ribera always ended with Erné. Noma was used to it and stood up, stretching her stiff muscles.
“Well, guess I’d better get to work.”
“Good idea, Noma.”
“But that star mark… I swear I’ve heard that before. Why does it feel so familiar?”
Noma shivered and rubbed her arms, trying to shake the unease.
