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~Chapter 4~
…
She was bound to Argen, so to leave their territory, she’d have to weaken Latium—the foundation of Argen’s power.
Even just for a short time.
If she could, maybe she could get out of here.
A possibility she had erased long ago now glimmered in the man before her.
Noxian Rubellot. Latium’s enemy, blessed by Rubenshire. He finally curved his lips into a smile.
“Good. We’re headed in the same direction.”
[Direction?]
“I have no intention of letting anyone with Argen blood live comfortably.”
He didn’t seem to know she was also Argen. Shariette didn’t bother to tell him.
That was the second lie.
“Of course, that’s only if you—holding my life—don’t betray me.”
As his consciousness began to fade again, Noxian whispered one last thing.
Wearing that dangerous smile people said was sculpted by angels and breathed to life by demons—
“I’ll count on you, Shasha.”
Sparkle. As if he already knew she was bewitched by that light.
Whether she was the one saving him or the one who had to trust him, both were gambling their lives.
But in the end, a gamble is only a good choice if you win.
Whatever the process, Shariette didn’t regret it—
nor anything that happened afterward.
Present day, Mayrily Herbal Shop.
“Hm, tying him up just in case…”
Probably not a good idea. He’d hate being tied.
Thinking of her first meeting with Noxian, Shariette quietly put the leather cord back.
Wait for me. Once I get rid of the Argen scum, I’ll get you out of here.
Just like that deadly promise, this man had killed the entire Argen family—
including Shariette’s biological father and half-siblings.
By the time he cut off their heads, Noxian must have known:
That “Shasha” wasn’t an innocent commoner apothecary, but one of the “Argen scum.”
There was another problem.
In exchange for helping him, Shariette had demanded one condition—
the destruction of the sanctuary, the Life Forest Latium.
Because Noxian kept that promise, she had a chance to escape.
How was I supposed to know intruders to the sanctuary would be cursed?
Rumors had spread even to this remote place:
two years ago, Rubellot’s heir had been cursed by Latium.
She didn’t know if it was true. But if it was…
Then this man had not only unknowingly joined hands with someone of the Argen blood he hated—
he had been cursed because of her.
“He won’t let me die quickly.”
Shariette muttered. The option of him not killing her never crossed her mind.
She grunted as she dragged Noxian to a cot in the corner of the shop.
His long legs stuck out far beyond the bed, but there was nothing she could do.
“A, E, I, O, U. Eee—”
Facing a mirror, Shariette practiced a harmless smile.
After ten years of not using these muscles, it still felt awkward.
She often memorized people’s expressions and copied them.
“Sir, did the sleeping potion work well for you?”
She even rehearsed her lines.
Alright. Let’s go with 4. Pretend he sampled before buying.
“Sleep anesthesia is still sleep.”
No, that didn’t sound right.
Checking her reflection again, she noted her hair—once light gold—had turned pure white one morning.
That had been shortly after she smuggled Noxian out of the city.
At the time, so much was happening that her hair color didn’t seem important. In hindsight, it was convenient.
Besides, my face and eye color were different back then.
Shariette had inherited her mother’s emerald green eyes and face exactly—
enough to make Blanche grit her teeth and hide them with magic tools.
“Alright, wake up, sir.”
Shariette sprayed him with a different bottle this time.
His eyelids twitched.
“Sir, did the sle—”
Before she could finish her rehearsed line, the world flipped.
“…!”
Squawk!
In an instant, Noxian pinned her down, his arm tight around her neck.
“I’ll give you five seconds.”
He spoke softly, far gentler than his actions.
“Explain yourself.”
The pressure on her neck eased just enough for her to speak.
Just like before.
With her wrists pinned, Shariette rolled her eyes.
His smooth lips curved into a warning.
“Three seconds.”
“Sir, did the sleeping potion work well for you?”
“….”
She even added the kind smile she had practiced.
Suspicion and disbelief flickered in his eyes.
“I’d heard you weren’t right in the head, but it’s true.”
No, she was perfectly sane.
But between “suspicious” and “strange,” she chose strange.
“You said you weren’t an apothecary?”
“Mr. Duimer isn’t a veterinarian either, but he still treats animals.”
She used the neighbor she’d mentioned a hundred times before.
Watching her bizarre calmness, Noxian released her.
Did that work?
While she was gauging him, he flexed his hand thoughtfully.
Then, glancing at her neck, he sighed shortly.
“The situation was suspicious, but I apologize for using force carelessly.”
“…?”
Shariette was momentarily stunned. Apologize? That was a first in her life.
Why was he apologizing?
I was the one who knocked him out…
She’d struck first and tricked him.
At a loss for a reply, she decided to compensate him with a discount and some freebies.
But that thought didn’t last long.
Returning to the counter, Noxian sat down casually without invitation and said:
“White Crow, work as my personal physician. I can pay you well.”
Stay close and risk him finding out her identity? Not a chance. She shook her head immediately.
“No—”
“You must have heard the rumor that Rubellot’s heir is cursed. Unfortunately, it’s true.”
His words were relaxed, but his garnet-like eyes glowed ominously.
“Latium’s curse is insomnia. Until now, no doctor or medicine has been able to make me sleep—except you.”
…That sounded like something she shouldn’t have heard.
The revelation of his identity and condition made her uneasy.
This would make it harder to walk away.
But Noxian didn’t give her time to think, pushing forward smoothly.
“Unauthorized manufacture and sale of medical products for profit.”
…Huh?
“Fine: 3,000 Luca. Selling this shop wouldn’t even cover it.”
Shariette froze at the mention of an amount she’d never even seen, let alone handled.
Noxian’s lips curled upward.
“Or you could spend five years in a labor camp.”
Shariette’s mouth fell open.
Let’s pause and review how she became a criminal.
She had no skills besides making medicine, which she’d done her whole life.
She’d tried working as a maid, but was fired within a week.
You worked hard, but I don’t think this job suits you.
Her kindly former employer gently told her, You’re a bit odd, so I can’t keep you.
Shariette was obedient, diligent, and competent.
But her former “master” for ten years, Blanche Argen, wasn’t a normal employer.
What Shariette had learned under her didn’t exactly match a maid’s typical skills.
W-what are you doing?!
I’m sorry, I burned the tablecloth by mistake, so I’m apologizing.
Kyaa! Stop! Someone take the fire from her!
No matter how skilled she was, no one wanted a maid who could burn her own hand without blinking.
Fortunately, her former employer had been kind enough to offer her a place to stay after she lost her live-in job.
A house at the edge of the Shadow Forest, past haunted Willow Hill—unsold and unused—
given to her at a friend’s discount: no deposit, and rent at one-quarter the normal rate.
