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Chapter 32
“Allen? Why is Allen here?”
Just as she rushed out of her room in surprise, Litricia came face-to-face with Killian.
“Good morning, Litricia.”
Today, Killian had truly returned to his usual self—appropriately indifferent to worldly affairs, moderately arrogant, and as elegant as ever.
That in itself was a relief, but Litricia’s attention was entirely focused downstairs.
“Yes, good morning. But Killian, did you ask the Count not only for Piril as my dowry substitute, but also for Allen?”
“No. I only asked for the attending physician. That child you call Allen seems to have snuck onto the baggage wagon.”
Killian, who had already grasped the situation outside, pointed toward the people entering the castle.
Standing Litricia upright, he gestured toward the people entering the Grand Duke’s castle.
“Let’s ask them directly.”
“We’ve returned, my lord.”
“Uuugh… My looooord… We’ve arrived…”
After the solemn greeting from Mark, Pell trudged toward Killian with a half-dead voice.
Despite everything, he still managed a playful expression—what a consistent man.
“What in the world happened, Pell?”
“Well, we ran out of water on the way and ended up using a well on the outskirts of the capital, but—hup!”
Pell, who had been speaking haltingly, suddenly straightened his back and pursed his lips. With his legs twisting together, it was clear he desperately needed a restroom.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one—several soldiers who had just managed to line up behind him broke formation and dashed off toward the privy.
“Haha… As you can see, there must’ve been something wrong with the water, and everyone’s come down with it.”
Gurgle.
A loud rumble echoed through the central hall—from Pell’s stomach.
“D-Don’t worry about me, my lord. I already emptied myself on the way here… It’s just the sound. I’m fine.”
With a clearly unwell face, Pell grinned, causing Killian to press his forehead with a sigh.
“How are the soldiers? Is it serious?”
“Ah, nothing major, my lord. Just some stomach trouble. A few showed signs of dehydration, but everyone’s doing fairly well.”
“Understood. Go rest for now. I’ll send a physician from the knight order.”
“Um, my lord. But actually…”
“What is it? Is there another issue?”
Killian turned to look at Pell, who had gone pale and showed no intention of leaving.
“It’s not really a problem, or maybe it is… depends how you look at it…”
“What are you trying to say, Pell?”
Killian’s brow furrowed as Pell kept hemming and hawing.
Meanwhile, Pell clutched his increasingly noisy stomach and bent over.
“So, there’s, uugh… a rumor going around in the capital…”
Then, as if he couldn’t hold it any longer, Pell widened his eyes and bolted out.
“I’m sorry, my lord! I’ll report back in a moment!”
Just as the knights made their noisy exit, people familiar to Litricia entered the hall.
“Oh, you foolish child. How could you sneak along to a place like this?”
“What do we do, Doctor… If the young lady sees him like this, she’ll be heartbroken…”
“Sigh… I don’t know anything. You handle it.”
Seeing Piril sighing deeply and Allen being carried in beside him, Litricia rushed forward.
“Allen? What are you doing here?”
“H-Hello, Miss.”
“I asked what you’re doing here! And what’s with this state?”
Allen averted his eyes under Litricia’s stern gaze.
Clicking her tongue, Piril stepped in to explain.
“This fearless boy must’ve snuck onto the carriage to see you, Miss. We only realized after we’d crossed the border, and it was too late to send him back. So we brought him along…”
“Hehe…”
Allen gave a weak laugh and cautiously looked at Litricia.
“Miss… are you mad?”
“Sigh. First recover your health. Once you’re better, return to the estate, Allen.”
“N-No! I already quit working at the estate! I have nowhere to go now…”
“What?”
This time, it was Litricia who pressed her forehead, not Killian. Allen’s lack of planning made her head spin.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to scold the boy whose lips were parched and who was clearly watching her nervously.
“…Let’s get you healthy first, then we’ll talk more, Allen.”
“Miiiss…”
“Killian. I’m sorry, but may this child stay here until he recovers?”
“Of course.”
With Killian’s permission, Litricia sent Allen upstairs.
Once the situation had mostly calmed, only Killian, Litricia, and Piril remained in the hall.
Piril, who was in the best shape of the three, fiddled nervously with his bowler hat and gulped.
“Um… Grand Duke, and Miss—no, Lady Litricia. That knight earlier will probably explain soon, but… there’s something I’d like to tell you both…”
*
“So. What sort of outrageous rumor has you both looking like this?”
Crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin on his hand, Killian idly swung his leg.
With his other hand—peeking out from under a bandage—he gently played with Litricia’s soft hair.
“When we left the capital, public opinion of you was actually improving, my lord.”
“But?”
“But suddenly a plague started spreading… and now people are blaming you for it…”
Litricia scrunched her nose as she listened to Piril.
“That’s ridiculous. What does a plague have to do with Killian? The disease didn’t even start until after he left the capital.”
“Yes. That’s true, but…”
“What, are people whispering that I brought the plague? Or that I cast a curse?”
Killian himself, however, didn’t look the least bit bothered. His eyes remained calmly fixed on her pink hair, as if listening to a trivial story.
“Or maybe they’re saying that an unlucky fallen prince set foot in the capital, angering the gods and causing a plague.”
“W-What? How did you know all that?”
Hearing Killian accurately recite the rumors circulating in the capital, Pell rubbed his arms in eerie disbelief.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Something similar had happened in his past life.
Although the timing and symptoms had been different, there had also been a plague—and people had blamed Killian. Tensions along the northern border had escalated as a result, leading to no small amount of trouble.
‘That plague back then was the Empress Dowager’s doing. And this doesn’t seem much different.’
Killian recalled the emperor’s messenger pigeon that had arrived in the early hours of the morning.
The parchment tied to the bird’s leg had contained a single line: Beware the Empress Dowager.
At the time, he’d wondered what scheme she was plotting—but seeing how things were unfolding now, that warning had been about this.
He didn’t know what trick she’d used, but one thing was clear: something meant to happen much later was now happening far earlier.
Ever since Killian had turned back time and ended the Kazar War six months ahead of schedule, everything had started unfolding differently from before.
It was no surprise that the Empress Dowager’s actions had changed as well.
‘If she’s moving this early, she must’ve been really ticked off after the victory banquet.’
Killian scoffed and rhythmically tapped his foot.
Now, what to do?
What had he done back then?
Narrowing his predator-like eyes, Killian remembered how, in his past life, he had gone on a ruthless rampage—swinging his sword at anything that so much as irritated him after Litricia left the castle.
But this time, he didn’t want to do that.
If he wanted to leave the castle again, he’d need to be careful. What if his bold wife ran away again while he was gone?
He stopped tapping his foot and turned to Litricia’s profile.
Her lips were tightly pressed together—clearly shaken by the news Pell had delivered.
“Are people really saying that? Do they really believe such nonsense?”
“Um… My lady, people are more prone to believing rumors than you’d think. Especially when it’s tied to something visible like a disease.”
Pell answered hesitantly, seeing Litricia’s distressed expression.
Her face grew even darker at his words, and Killian clicked his tongue.
His normally composed and haughty face twisted into irritation.
He hadn’t cared what the Empress Dowager was up to—but seeing Litricia so disturbed by her tricks made his mood sour fast.
That nameless, sticky emotion had been crawling up his throat since last night, and Killian loosened his cravat irritably.
Just then, Piril, who’d been silently clutching his hat and fidgeting, nervously adjusted his glasses—a habit of his when he had something important to say.
“Um… Forgive me for interrupting, but may I say one thing about the disease spreading in the capital?”
“Go ahead.”
“This is just my speculation… but I don’t think it’s an actual plague.”
Wiping the sweat streaming down his temples, Piril pulled a water bottle from his coat.
It contained water from the well that Pell and the knights had drunk from.
“There are several suspicious aspects that don’t align with a normal disease. I believe it might be waterborne poisoning… rather than a true infection.”
