🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 54
‘So she really can’t see it?’
That night when Retrisha had lost her sight again—he’d had the strange feeling she could see that blue smoke.
But now, seeing how she was completely unaware of it, he wondered if it had just been his imagination.
‘Right. There’s no way she could see it.’
Since his regression, not a single person had noticed the existence of this blue smoke. It was only natural that Retrisha couldn’t either.
Besides, in her current state—blind—being able to see it would be a contradiction.
‘That night, I was just on edge. I must have been too sensitive.’
Having reached a reasonable conclusion, Killian swept his thumb over the navy notebook on the table before the smoke became more restless.
Why did he write fairy tales?
The answer was, without question—Retrisha.
This notebook, worn thin from being opened countless times, was actually her diary.
Before the regression, at their first dinner together in three months, she had once said—
That the happiest memory from her otherwise meager childhood was reading fairy tales. That of all books, she loved fairy tales most. That she wanted to have a fairy tale where she herself was the main character.
At the time, he thought it an odd thing for someone her age to say and brushed it off. But after she was gone, that memory stuck in his mind.
When he had read her diary so often he’d memorized every word and had nothing left to reminisce about, he began writing fairy tales based on her own words in the diary.
If she ever returned to him, maybe offering her those stories would soften her heart—if only a little.
In the end, in his previous life, Retrisha had never once read the fairy tales he’d written. But it seemed that the few volumes he’d written right before his regression had somehow come back with him.
At first, he thought only the possessions he’d had on his person during the regression had returned with him. But upon returning to the ducal estate and finding the fairy tales neatly left behind as if waiting for him, he began to think that might not be the case.
There was no telling what standard determined what came back and what didn’t.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter. Nothing important was left behind anyway…’
Carefully putting the notebook away, Killian leaned back in his chair. His blue irises—cold as the winter sea—drifted over the scenery outside the window, the same one Retrisha had gazed at as if enchanted.
“Retrisha. I was about to go out—not quite a pleasure outing, more of an inspection of the territory. Would you like to come with me?”
“Oh? Really?”
After that big commotion the other day, not just Killian but all the servants in the castle had kept Retrisha confined to bed.
Her eyes sparkled like stars—after nearly a month cooped up indoors, his offer was clearly very welcome.
“I’d love to…!”
“But only after Piril says you’re fit to go.”
“I’m sure he’ll say yes! He already told me I’ve recovered a lot!”
Her voice pitched an octave higher than usual, betraying just how excited she was.
Seeing her so thrilled—like a puppy seeing snow for the first time—Killian pulled the bell cord to summon Piril.
‘Yes. The present is what matters.’
“Going out for a short while should be fine.”
Piril, looking disheveled with his hair like a bird’s nest—likely from another all-nighter in the lab—suppressed a yawn as he gave permission.
Of course, a string of nagging followed.
“The weather’s cool, but dress warmly. Ah, and do wear a scarf. Don’t walk too much, and avoid overly spicy food—”
“Oh, doctor! That’s enough. Lady Retrisha isn’t a three-year-old. She’ll take care of herself!”
Marsha, ears perked beside them, cut him off mid-nag.
“I worry too, but honestly, you overdo it, doctor.”
“I still have more precautions—”
“Oh, hush! Lady Retrisha, come along with me! I’ll make sure you’re dressed beautifully!”
The maids, including Marsha, still thought Retrisha had collapsed from overexertion, so to them Piril’s fussiness seemed excessive.
Giving Piril a firm pat on the back to keep him from following, Marsha led Retrisha to the dressing room.
“This is your first outing since you came to the North, right? Time to show the townsfolk how stunning our Lady Retrisha is! What shall we go with—coat? Cape? You’d look good in anything, hmm.”
Marsha’s excitement over dressing Retrisha was plain to see.
Perhaps because Retrisha had always treated her without prejudice, Marsha no longer felt timid in her presence.
The same was true for Mia.
“Mm! Mmm!”
The usually shy girl trotted after Retrisha, eagerly offering her opinion.
A cape would be nice! One with fur trim—it’ll keep you warm and make you look even more beautiful!
“Really? You think so too, Mia? Great! My lady, leave it to me, Marsha! I’ve got skills, you know!”
“Mmm!”
Yes, I’m confident I can make you look lovely! N-not that you aren’t already beautiful as you are!
Marsha scribbled her agreement with enthusiasm.
Retrisha appreciated their warmth but also felt a little pressured, edging aside slightly.
“Haha. Just something neat will do for me.”
“There you go again! I’m not letting you get away with plain today! Always asking for simple styles… No wonder His Highness doesn’t realize how beautiful you are and just sits there like a block of wood.”
Perched lazily on the windowsill, Killian tilted his head, looking baffled.
“Marsha. What did I do now?”
What kind of ‘block of wood’ worries himself sick every day that his wife might disappear?
But Marsha saw things differently.
“Hmph. You’re too indifferent, Your Highness. You’ve got such a lovely wife, yet you always wear that bored-to-death expression.”
“Pfft.”
When Marsha mimicked Killian’s stern, serious face perfectly, Retrisha couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“Retrisha…?”
Her laughter at his expense prompted Killian’s voice to drip with betrayal, and Retrisha quickly pulled Marsha and Mia toward the door.
“W-well, let’s just talk as we go, shall we?”
“Just you wait, Your Highness. I’ll make her so stunning you won’t be able to stop yourself from saying she’s beautiful!”
“Marsha, that’s enough. Come here.”
“You too, my lady—if he sits there all sullen, pinch his arm! He may look scary, but inside—”
“Pfft. I told you, it doesn’t bother me.”
Smiling awkwardly at Marsha’s muttering, Retrisha let herself be led toward the dressing room. Killian gave a wry chuckle at the sight.
“Ha. The three of you get along well.”
Had Marsha seen his current gentle smile, she would have scolded him for not showing it more often.
“Your Highness, I’ll return to the lab now.”
Once the commotion had passed, Piril trudged over, looking drained.
“Any progress in your research?”
“Not yet…”
Hearing the same answer for the past month made Killian’s face harden again.
“Not even the slightest?”
“I’m ashamed…”
The easy grip of his folded arms tightened, wrinkling the once-smooth shirt beneath his fists.
Why was there still no progress?
He’d begun research on the illness far earlier than in his past life.
So why—why had they still not found even the smallest clue toward a cure?
‘If we can’t discover a treatment in time…’
The thought constricted his throat like a noose.
What broke through his spiraling unease was Piril’s mutter—
“If only he were here…”
“‘He’? Who are you talking about?”
Killian’s urgency startled Piril, making him stumble back a step before dropping into a chair instead of falling.
“There’s… a friend named Jeffrey. We studied medicine together in our youth. His specialty is incurable diseases related to mana. I just thought—if it were Jeffrey, maybe he could help somehow.”
“Then you should be finding this Jeffrey. What are you doing instead?”
“Well… I did try asking around, but he’s a wanderer at heart and loves to travel. No one knows where he is.”
“Ha… The world really is…”
A mess—completely.
Killian muttered a few choice curses under his breath.
