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~Chapter 14~
“As the Young Duke ordered, we prepared a room with good sunlight, a nice view, and warmth.”
Just like he said, late afternoon sunlight poured generously through the large window.
Shariette slowly looked around the room.
Beyond the open window, she could see the Duke’s garden she had passed earlier in full view.
Soft beige-colored walls, a cozy rug spread on the floor, a plush sofa by the window, and potted plants with fresh leaves swaying gently.
The sunlight, dyed in a sepia tone, filled the room with a warm scent.
Everything was warm and comfortable — as if it were a sanctuary made for someone.
“If you open the inside door, there’s a bedroom, and over there is the bathroom… Don’t you want to go in?”
Shariette stepped back hesitantly.
It was too perfect — she felt like she shouldn’t ruin it.
She wanted to at least dust off her shoes, tie her hair, and straighten her clothes before—
“You should go in. Don’t make it awkward for the person introducing it.”
A calm voice came from above her head.
At the same time, there was a gentle push to her back.
It wasn’t strong, but she ended up taking a few steps inside the room.
“…!”
“Young Duke!”
The butler, who had been proudly talking about the place the whole time, brightened at the sight.
Shariette checked to make sure there were no shoe marks on the floor before turning her head.
“I heard you made quite the grand first impression.”
Noxian, who had pushed her inside, smiled as he brought up her earlier embarrassment.
“So, doctor — do you like the room?”
“…I didn’t expect you to give a pharmacist a room outside the dispensary.”
Leaning against the doorway, Noxian tilted his head.
It wasn’t that the room was too big or too luxurious — she simply hadn’t expected to be given a room at all.
‘Then where did she think she was going to sleep?’
As he wondered, Noxian remembered the narrow cot in the dispensary where he had woken up in Mayrilly.
It had been cold, hard, and terribly uncomfortable — hard to forget.
‘Does she think she’s some kind of equipment that belongs in a dispensary?’
Without showing his thoughts, he replied,
“A cultured person should separate their workspace from their living space.”
“I’m fine with just one.”
“Then get used to this side from now on.”
“…”
That expression again.
Noxian quietly watched Shariette, who looked neither pleased nor displeased — just confused.
It was the same look she made whenever he called her name — the face of someone hearing a perfectly normal idea for the very first time.
[Sometimes you ask strange things. Is this normal in Rubellot?]
Shasha — the woman he had originally intended this room for — had looked just like that.
That night, Shariette began her first official duty.
Under the watch of Eden, who clearly didn’t trust her, she quickly finished making a sleeping medicine for her only patient — and headed to Noxian’s room.
He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier in the day, reading documents.
The sight of him holding a pen instead of a sword looked unfamiliar, yet suited him.
“Patient. Here’s today’s dose. I’ll watch how long it works and adjust the ingredients and amount starting tomorrow.”
When she set the vial on his desk, Noxian picked it up and lightly shook it with interest.
A faint red-tinted liquid swayed inside.
A tag listing the ingredients was tied to the neck of the bottle.
Anyone without expertise wouldn’t understand it anyway, but it was her habit to be overly honest.
“Thanks. Is it really chocolate-flavored?”
“Not just chocolate — as you requested, ‘bitter’ chocolate flavor.”
Shariette answered proudly.
“Interesting. Good work. You’ve had a busy day, so rest well.”
But despite saying that, Noxian didn’t seem ready to rest at all.
Watching him set the vial down again, Shariette tilted her head.
“Why aren’t you drinking it? If you don’t trust it, I’ll drink it first.”
When she reached for the lid, Noxian stopped her.
“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have brought you here. I’ll drink it after I finish this.”
“Liar.”
Shariette narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Do you think I haven’t seen plenty of fools make excuses to avoid taking their medicine?”
“Fools…”
Meeting her suspicious gaze, Noxian sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“It’s just that I don’t want to waste time. It feels like a loss.”
“Loss?”
“Having more time than others is a big advantage.”
For the past two years, while others had about a dozen waking hours a day, Noxian Rubellot had been using over twenty.
An ordinary person would have collapsed into an eternal sleep long ago, but as a Rubellot with the purest blood, he endured — though often tired, with headaches and nausea.
So, when he finally got the key to sleep, he hesitated.
Falling into that deep, defenseless state felt dangerous.
Even more so after interrogating the arsonist from Willow Hill and learning the truth.
[If it weren’t for you, the Marquis’s house wouldn’t have fallen…!]
It wasn’t worth pitying.
Who told them to get involved in smuggling and drugs?
The Argen family’s corruption ran deeper than expected — deep enough for scum like that to appear often.
[You think you’re different? You’ll lose everything too!]
He’d already faced enough assassinations and petty revenge attempts to know better.
‘Damn Argen rats, troublesome even after death.’
And now, to top it off, they were taking it out on people who had nothing to do with them.
Twisting his pen, he told his doctor,
“Thanks to you, I can sleep whenever I want now — so I’ll use it only when I really need it. Thanks.”
Shariette was appalled.
“You’re insane.”
“I’m perfectly sane — as always.”
“If you don’t realize it, then you’re definitely insane.”
“I’ve been told that often.”
Completely unfazed, Noxian replied.
Shariette snatched the pen from his hand.
‘Without even my recovery rate! No wonder he’s acting crazy — it’s from not sleeping!’
She pointed the pen at him.
“You don’t have more time than others — you’re borrowing it against your life.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take it when I need to. I won’t waste your effort.”
“You’re already wasting it.”
Clearly not understanding, Noxian stood up and gently guided her toward the door.
Dragged along, Shariette felt wronged.
‘Then why bother dragging me here in the first place?’
Objectively, both of them were being hypocritical — but people rarely see themselves that way.
Feeling the need to correct her patient’s attitude, Shariette suddenly turned around and pulled out a spray bottle.
“Wait—!”
Noxian, remembering her merciless use of sprays before, reacted too late.
Chhh!
“Shariette! That’s the anesth—!”
“It’s not an anesthetic. It’s the concentrated sleeping medicine I gave you.”
Which meant it was several times stronger.
“That’s the same thing— Are you kidding—?”
He tried to resist the drowsiness but failed.
“That’s why you should have taken it properly. Do you know what a prescription is?”
“Who told you to—”
“As your doctor, I’m responsible for your health — so follow my prescription.”
“M–damn…”
His resentful look didn’t last — Noxian collapsed.
‘Danger! Fracture! Concussion!’
Shariette barely managed to catch his weight before they both fell.
“Whew… Almost put you to sleep forever.”
As she sighed in relief, a familiar voice came from behind.
“My lord, why are you still… Miss Shariette? What are you doing there?”
Luke was the only white-haired person in the mansion, so he recognized her instantly.
It was late at night, and they were alone — with her holding Noxian.
A scene ripe for misunderstanding.
“…!”
She wanted to raise her hands to claim innocence, but couldn’t let go.
So she hurriedly shouted — before Luke could say anything:
“It’s not an assassination!”
…Wait, that’s the first thing you clarify?
