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Chapter 17
What Luciella found was a rough sketch her mother had drawn.
The lines were crude, as though she had been trying to preserve a memory rather than create an accurate illustration.
Yet it matched perfectly—both Aila’s description and Luciella’s own memory.
A blue stem.
And three differently colored fruits hanging from a single stalk.
Beneath the drawing, her mother’s handwriting identified the location.
[The Garden Between the Cracks]
Luciella stared at the name for a long time.
This was it.
The place her mother had occasionally taken her to when she was little.
A place without seasons.
Without wind.
Unnaturally quiet, yet somehow never frightening.
Her mother had tended herbs there, while Luciella played with the soil.
Everything had been there.
Extinct birds.
Plants that existed nowhere on the continent.
A small cabin.
Even several magical tools her mother had supposedly created with her father’s help.
“Haa…”
Luciella let out a long breath and sat on the edge of her bed.
I can’t go there right now.
Without that item, she could never find the garden by herself.
“Still…”
She bit her lip.
It was better than the Northern Continent.
Better than traveling to the end of the world.
There was a way.
She just couldn’t use it right now.
And she didn’t have the luxury of obsessing over things she couldn’t accomplish immediately.
For now, she would put the antidote herb aside.
First, she would focus on what she could do.
Helping Bael recover as quickly as possible now that he had been separated from the source of the poison.
In the end, the answer was cooking.
* * *
“…What was so amazing about Baeri again?”
“Hmm… Until right before he died, he was practically immortal. He’d look half-dead lying in bed, but whenever he got injured, he’d heal at an absurd speed.”
“Must be nice.”
“His recovery fluctuated depending on whether he still had the will to live. Whenever his ‘joy of life’ stat was full, his recovery speed doubled.”
The stories her mother had told her long ago were true.
Because after that, Bael’s recovery accelerated like madness.
After hearing about the Samyo Herb, Luciella cooked something for Bael every single day.
The results were unbelievable.
On the day she brought buttered toast drenched in honey and warm milk, he succeeded in fully bending his knees.
On the day she served risotto filled with shredded chicken, he became able to fully stretch his ankles and toes.
That day, Aila—who had been observing him—opened her eyes wide and stole a spoonful of the risotto.
“This is healing way too fast.”
She claimed she was checking whether Luciella had somehow tricked the system and applied a hidden buff.
But after a few bites, she seemed to forget all about Bael and casually transferred half the risotto onto her own plate.
Bael, who hadn’t even finished eating yet, stared at her in disbelief.
Still, that had been only the beginning.
The next day, Luciella brought a stew made from rich bone broth packed with vegetables.
The day after that, thin slices of beef grilled in herb butter with mashed potatoes.
That was the day Bael managed, for the first time, to lift one leg while sitting upright against the headboard.
On the fifth day, she served cream cheese bagels, smoked salmon, and asparagus drizzled with lemon juice.
“His internal mana circulation has recovered to half of normal levels. I haven’t seen recovery this monstrous since Lord Cain.”
After conducting several examinations, Aila had said that to Luciella with a look of disbelief.
Sixth day.
Seventh day.
Eighth day.
Every day, Bael’s complexion improved a little more.
His skin, once pale as porcelain, regained color.
The lifelessness vanished from his eyes, replaced by sharpness.
They were the eyes of someone truly alive.
Cain visited every other day to check on Bael’s condition.
The two of them still bickered fiercely.
But unlike before, their primary topic now was who got the last remaining cookie made by Luciella.
“I only ate one! Just one!”
“You shameless liar. I saw you take two at the beginning.”
On the ninth day, Bael gripped the bedrail with both hands and slowly stood up.
Strength flowed into his legs.
His knees straightened.
And he remained standing for several seconds.
Aila held her breath.
Cain instinctively started to reach out, only to stop himself midway.
He didn’t even seem aware he had done it.
“…Ugh.”
Bael’s legs could not yet fully support his weight.
After a few moments, he lowered himself back onto the bed and rested his hands on the blanket.
“Haa…”
A short sigh escaped him.
“That’s incredible progress.”
Aila spoke first.
Her voice trembled slightly.
“I never thought I’d see Lord Bael stand using his own strength.”
“Remarkable indeed.”
Even Cain smiled faintly.
“…”
Bael said nothing.
His expression was frozen somewhere between joy and disappointment.
Luciella sat beside him on the bed and studied his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“…I want to move.”
Bael answered slowly.
“By my own will. In whatever direction I choose. Not just move my muscles.”
Luciella remained silent.
She understood.
And yet she didn’t.
Which somehow made it even more painful.
Why does he keep pushing himself so hard?
Even when he was sick, he could never remain still.
There was never a day he willingly put down a sword.
What kind of image did he have of himself?
What did he think he lacked?
“With more practice…”
Cain began.
But Bael shook his head.
“The mana circulates, then gets blocked somewhere.”
His voice remained calm.
“My body doesn’t hurt anymore. Breathing isn’t difficult. Even when I use mana, I recover immediately afterward.”
He paused.
“But something is still blocking it.”
His eyes turned toward Aila.
“This is because of that, right? The thing only the herb can fix.”
Aila nodded slowly.
“The remaining toxins inside your body are blocking part of your mana pathways. Unless those toxins are directly neutralized with the herb, forcing those pathways open on your own will be difficult.”
“I see.”
Bael sighed again.
“I know I’ve improved.”
His gaze shifted between Aila and Luciella.
“I know I almost died and survived.”
“…”
“And I know I owe both of you my life.”
“…”
“That’s exactly why I can’t give up.”
He spoke softly.
His jewel-like blue eyes shone.
Ah.
Luciella suddenly understood.
There was nothing to pity.
The Bael sitting before her was not the same boy she had first met in this room.
He was no longer the boy who pushed everything away with sharp edges, trapped between bitterness and resignation, unable to endure himself.
The person before her now was someone with a goal.
Someone with determination.
A boy moving toward something he desperately wanted.
Someone who refused to accept his own limits.
Luciella bit her lip.
I want to keep helping him.
For a moment, she thought of her mother.
Was this why Mom could never give up on Bael in the game?
Because he never gave up on himself.
And because of that, no one else could give up on him either.
* * *
The next morning, Luciella headed toward the kitchen earlier than usual.
Today, she planned to make lemon tart.
A thin, crisp tart shell filled with sweet-and-tart lemon curd, topped with meringue and lightly baked.
During the past ten days, she had learned that while Bael loved sweets, he hated anything overly rich.
As she crossed the rear courtyard of the ducal estate and approached the kitchen entrance, she suddenly stopped.
Several people had gathered near the door.
A few kitchen servants were pressed tightly against a stone wall, avoiding eye contact.
Several others occupied the area in front of them.
Near a passage leading toward the stables stood a large black shape.
Everyone seemed to be staring at it.
Only after approaching closer did Luciella realize it was a horse.
A huge horse.
Its legs were slightly uneven.
Its coat was dull and tangled.
It looked sick.
Though large, its body proportions seemed wrong, giving it a fragile appearance.
Its bones were thick, yet it lacked proper muscle.
It looked as though it had either been starving for years or suffering from a long illness.
It doesn’t look like a warhorse or a racing horse…
“Hah. Didn’t someone scam you?”
The speaker was a boy who looked around sixteen or seventeen years old.
Tanned skin.
Blond hair.
Brilliant blue eyes resembling those of Bael and Cain.
His posture was confident and slightly arrogant, as though he couldn’t care less about the people gathered around him.
He was well-built and reasonably handsome, but the twisted shape of his smile made him seem malicious.
Instinctively, Luciella guessed he was a direct member of the Bellaon family.
“What exactly is this thing supposed to be useful for?”
“Exactly.”
The person eagerly agreeing beside him was Ruben.
“It moves slowly and doesn’t seem capable of doing anything.”
Recognizing him, Luciella narrowed her eyes.
Ah. It’s this guy.
A direct descendant of the Duke.
The son of Osborne Bellaon, the second son of the family.
Theo Bellaon.
The one who had placed Ruben near Bael and constantly used him for errands instead of allowing him to do his actual job.
The character her mother had once described as:
“A boy with high scheming stats and nothing else. Ranked third in the players’ most disliked character poll.”
Instinctively, Luciella felt she should leave immediately.
Unfortunately, Theo had already noticed her.
“Oh, wait.”
He crooked a finger at her.
“Blonde hair, pale green eyes… pretty face carrying a pile of cooking ingredients…”
His eyes gleamed.
“So you’re the girl who dumped dirty water over Ruben’s head.”
The corner of his mouth curled upward even further.
“Perfect.”
