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Chapter 16
“So, what’s her condition?”
“Pardon? I—”
Startled by the icy voice from behind, Piril’s hand trembled as he disinfected Litricia’s scraped wound. The force of the tremor caused the forceps to slip from his hand and fall to the ground with a sharp clang, the sound echoing awkwardly in the silence.
“S-sorry! I’ll pick it up right away!”
Piril hastily wiped the condensation from his glasses, now damp with anxiety, and bent down. As he pretended to pick up the forceps, he discreetly wiped the sweat forming on his upper lip with his sleeve.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Piril couldn’t make sense of the situation. Why in the world was Grand Duke Heverus here?
He had simply followed Sir Silvano to this place to look for someone—nothing more, nothing less.
Just a few days ago, Piril had still been fumbling for a way to treat Litricia’s illness when a mysterious parcel had arrived for him. The sender and origin were both unknown. Inside was a single book.
Though Piril prided himself on having read nearly every medical text in the Empire, this was one he had never seen before.
Still, thanks to that book, he was finally able to grasp a clue about Litricia’s condition.
‘But the one who sent that book… was the Grand Duke?’
Click. Piril adjusted his slipping glasses and straightened his posture.
Through the smudged lenses, his eyes inspected Litricia.
“Other than some light abrasions, the lady appears to have no major injuries.”
“Are you sure? Then why did she lose consciousness? Her vision also seemed blurred.”
Kilian, who had been leaning back in a chair with his chin propped on his hand, now dropped it from his face.
His hand moved toward his silver hair and tapped the back of his head.
“Looks like she hit her head when she fell. Could that have caused a problem?”
“No, Your Grace. I’m not sure if this is the proper way to say it, but…”
“Go on.”
As Piril struggled to find a polite way to phrase things before a Grand Duke, Kilian waved his hand impatiently.
“Your body, Your Grace, absorbed the impact like a cushion—like this pillow, really—so the lady likely didn’t receive too much shock.”
Noticing the stiffness in Kilian’s hand, Piril nodded.
“She lost consciousness due to her illness. There’s something like a tumor in her brain that temporarily stimulated her optic nerve.”
As Piril took out the tools needed to treat Kilian’s broken bone, he closely watched his expression.
As expected, Kilian showed no reaction, as if he had already known.
“But as I mentioned, it’s a temporary condition. She’ll be fine soon. However… there is something else.”
“What is it now?”
Piril hesitated, then pulled a bookmark from his inner pocket—the one Pell had handed him.
“This… your knight gave this to me. May I ask… were you the one who sent the book about the lady’s illness?”
“Yes. That’s why I sent the bookmark to you today.”
“But… how could Your Grace have known about a disease not even physicians can identify… and why would you send that information to me?”
Piril’s words came out haltingly, full of disbelief.
“Well, I thought you might be the one who could cure Litricia.”
“Ah… Forgive me, Your Grace, but I’m not capable of such a thing. If it weren’t for the book you sent, I wouldn’t have even been able to identify her illness. In truth, I still don’t have the faintest idea of the cause.”
Kilian tilted his head slightly at Piril’s skeptical response.
“When were you appointed as the Este family’s personal physician?”
“That’s rather sudden… but it’s been over twenty years, at least.”
“Then you were already with the Este family when Litricia was adopted—and when that carriage accident happened.”
“Yes, that’s correct. The lady was rescued safely but suffered a severe head injury. I personally treated her using a mana stone…”
Recalling the hazy memory, Piril’s eyes suddenly widened as if struck by lightning.
“Don’t tell me… the treatment I performed back then caused all this?”
“You really are wasted as just the Este family’s doctor. You’re quite perceptive.”
Piril’s quick realization seemed to please Kilian, who fiddled with his broken arm.
“You’re right. The mana from the mana stone you used back then reacted with a blood clot in her brain and created a mass.”
Everything Kilian was revealing had been discovered in his past life—after two and a half years of relentless effort by Piril.
Of course, it would’ve been great if Kilian could just give Piril the cure directly, but unfortunately, the Kilian of the past only learned that a treatment had been developed—he never knew the details.
Still, with this much information, Piril would likely be able to find the cure soon enough.
“I… I only used the mana stone to save her life. That was all I intended…”
“I know. At the time, it was the best treatment you had. But intention aside, the fact remains—you bear some responsibility for Litricia’s illness, don’t you?”
“…Yes, I suppose so.”
“I’ll give you one year.”
Crack.
Without a flicker of emotion, Kilian reset his broken bone, then extended his arm for Piril to apply the splint.
The whole process was so unnaturally calm that a cold sweat trickled down Piril’s back.
“Find a cure in that time. If you want your head to remain attached to your body, that is.”
*
“W-well then, I’ll be going now, Your Grace! There are so many documents I need to look into!”
As soon as he finished bandaging Kilian’s arm, Piril, looking utterly terrified, practically sprinted out of the room.
Creak—thud.
After watching the stiff door close behind him, Kilian sank into the chair by the bed.
“Hoo…”
With a weary sigh, he pulled out a cigar.
Biting down on it, Kilian leaned his head back against the chair.
“Everything’s going smoothly.”
Click—snap.
His unbandaged hand toyed with the lighter, flicking the lid open and shut.
So… what next?
His blue eyes, now free from the earlier tension, wandered vaguely around the ceiling.
He had found a physician to study the cure. By declaring their marriage vow in front of the Emperor, he had secured a reason to keep Litricia by his side.
And yet, one question kept nagging at him—like a thorn beneath a fingernail.
She had already left him in a previous life. What guarantee did he have that she wouldn’t do the same in this one?
Thinking back to the Litricia of his past life, the chances seemed slim.
She always looked like she could disappear at any moment, like she had no attachments to the world.
His jaw clenched as he recalled her expression.
“If she left because she had no regrets, then I just need to give her something to hold on to.”
That’s right. If Litricia had left him in a previous life because she had no reason to stay, then in this life, he would create one—something that would make her unable to leave.
Something deeply binding—an irresistible attachment.
Creak.
Kilian leaned back in his chair, chewing his cigar.
“So… what kind of attachment would work best?”
A fortune? An army capable of crushing enemies with a flick of the hand?
Or maybe he should simply give her what she loved most?
Wait—what did Litricia even like?
“Damn it.”
As he mentally sorted through possibilities, Kilian cursed aloud.
He couldn’t remember. What would be attractive to Litricia?
He could remember the treatment details perfectly—but not what Litricia liked, enjoyed, or even thought about.
It was to be expected.
The Kilian of the past had rarely been around her, and had never even wondered about such things.
“I’m getting irritated with my past self.”
He stopped, just as he was about to light the cigar.
Then he snapped it in half.
The image of Litricia coughing every time he lit one flashed through his mind.
“…Come to think of it, there’s one thing I do remember. She liked drawing.”
Tossing the crumbled cigar onto the table, Kilian pulled a small notebook from his pocket.
There were a few items that had traveled back in time with him—this notebook and the ring he once shared with Litricia.
The worn navy notebook had a yellow wildflower drawn on its cover.
It was something Kilian had once given Litricia—a gift she had left behind in the Grand Duke’s castle when she vanished.
Tracing the flower she had drawn herself, Kilian called for Mark, who was guarding the door.
“You summoned me, my lord?”
“Mark. Where’s the biggest art supply store around here?”
“Probably near Aerubel Plaza. But… why the art shop, my lord? Don’t tell me you plan to use it?”
Mark’s expression twisted slightly, as if he were trying to imagine Kilian wielding a paintbrush instead of a sword or pen.
Sensing the disbelief in Mark’s eyes, Kilian pointed toward Litricia.
“Not for me. For her.”
“You mean… Lady Este?”
“Yes. I’m thinking of winning her over. Giving her something she likes.”
“Excuse me…?”
Mark’s face grew even more perplexed.
Though he didn’t show it, Mark was just as flustered as Pell would’ve been.
His lord—cold, indifferent Kilian—had not only suddenly married someone, but was now preparing gifts to win her affection. It was like the sun had risen in the west.
‘If Pell finds out about this, he’s going to go crazy.’
Imagining Pell excitedly blabbering away, Mark shook his head.
The thought alone gave him a headache.
“Mark. Why are you just standing there? We need to go before Litricia wakes up.”
“Go where… wait, do you mean the art supply store?”
Mark’s eyes drifted up to the crescent moon hanging in the sky.
It was just about to hit midnight.
Which meant the store would definitely be closed right now.
So when he hesitated, Kilian shot him a look that said, So?
“If it’s closed, we’ll have them open it.”
“…As you command.”
Mark squeezed his eyes shut.
Something had definitely changed in his master since they left the ballroom.
