TSYMVF 63

Chapter 63

“Three spoonfuls of Camiparadone and two spoonfuls of Velesios. I put them in without fail.”

The subordinate in the black robe stammered excuses before Chenoa, looking flustered.

“Then why is he still so perfectly fine?”

“He’s only pretending to be fine. Inside, he must be rotting away.”

From her ornate, throne-like chair, Chenoa crossed her legs and asked in a chilling voice,

“Wasn’t Velesios supposed to block the very source of special abilities?”

“Y-yes… yes, that’s true.”

Both drugs came from poisonous herbs that grew in the treacherous Keil Mountains.

Camiparadone clouded the mind and gradually weakened the body, while Velesios obstructed the flow of qi through which abilities circulated.

Compared to herbs that killed outright upon ingestion, these were mild—but when it came to slowly weakening a hostage, nothing surpassed them.

And once absorbed into the body, the toxins became undetectable—leaving no evidence.

“It… it seems to take time. But if we wait—”

The man in the robe never finished his sentence.

A burst of Chenoa’s clear aura pierced straight through his chest.

“Guuhk…!”

Looking bored, Chenoa spoke as she watched him collapse.

“It’s already been six months since I started waiting.”

“Guh… guhuk….”

“And in those six months, Othello Winchester has already reached the threshold of Sword Aura.”

A direct descendant from one of the Four Great Houses reaching Sword Aura was exceedingly rare.

Abilities were innate—so powerful in themselves that they made wielding weapons unnecessary. Except for outliers like Ricardo, few ability users trained deeply with the sword.

But if someone with an ability cultivated their swordsmanship to the realm of Sword Aura, things changed entirely.

Most blades shattered when infused with too much ability energy. But Sword Aura allowed one to manifest the true essence of an ability through the sword itself.

It was a powerful realm where sword, self, and ability became completely one.

Moreover, a Sword Aura user gained overwhelming advantage in close combat. Even Chenoa, gifted with a mighty clarity ability, would inevitably lose in a one-on-one against Ricardo.

Though not the heir, if Othello Winchester became a Sword Aura user, he could pose a massive threat to House Taylors.

Especially when one considered that Evan Taylors was still a useless halfwit who had yet to manifest any ability at all.

“Othello must be eliminated. Even if it means bringing war.”

As Chenoa’s words faded, her lieutenant Luke emerged from the shadows.

He glanced at the robed corpse and said,

“Milord, you’ll be placing yourself in danger.”

“There is a substitute.”

“The Second Young Master…?”

The lieutenant’s face darkened, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Chenoa Taylors’ half-brother, Herrit Taylors—just two years old—had been born without his right hand.

Utterly unsuitable as an heir.

“Even if we lose Evan, we cannot allow a force greater than him to fall into enemy hands.”

“Duke, it’s uncertain, but according to intelligence that came in yesterday…”

They had sent dozens of spies into Winchester Castle, yet never managed to learn what went on within.

So the lieutenant couldn’t even be sure whether this information was accurate.

That Othello, who had remained unawakened all this time, had suddenly manifested an ability was suspicious indeed—but a hasty decision from the head of the house that shook Taylors’ very survival would be far worse.

“They say… the Young Master may have awakened his ability.”

At those words, Chenoa’s brows froze.

Time moved on, slow as it seemed.

“How are you doing, Othello?”

I coughed lightly and spoke to the teddy bear.

The brown bear just lay there with its dumb face staring at me.

Since learning that this bear was actually ‘Rune,’ I hadn’t spoken to it once.

A bit of spite toward Othello, who had sent it without even explaining properly, lingered in me.

“I’m just… living as usual.”

But on days like this, I found myself thinking of Othello.

“Now that Grandpa Hector is gone, and Brother Jin has left on assignment, the mansion feels so empty.”

No one had looked for me all day long.

A rather boring, yet somehow pleasant day.

“How are the days there?”

Since the incident of ability outburst, Evan had scarcely come out of his room.

The whole mansion felt sunk in silence.

I even found myself missing those times when Othello would shoot me with a water gun, or kick my ball away.

“How’s Taylors? Is the food good? And… have you gotten taller?”

After a string of questions, I let out a long sigh.

Talking to a doll alone was really not it.

I lay back, staring at the ceiling.

For some reason, my head felt dizzy today.

It was then that Maya opened the door and said,

“Young Lady, His Grace the Duke wishes to see you—”

Inside the office, Ricardo was there.

As always, he was working calmly when he turned to look at me.

Then he lifted a sleeve to cough lightly.

“…What is it?”

In that moment, I realized I had been mistaken.

— His Grace the Duke is unwell.

Maya’s worried voice echoed in my ears.

The maids had insisted to me earlier:

— Wouldn’t it cheer His Grace if you brought him some sweet desserts, Young Lady?

— Work talk is fine, but when someone is sick, rest is what matters most.

— We’ll prepare an adorable dress so cute it’ll ease his fatigue just by looking at you.

So, carrying two whole baskets of desserts, I had come to visit the ailing Ricardo.

“…A cold…?”

I muttered dumbly, lips parting.

Where, in this picture, was the sick man?

“You… caught one?”

Silence fell in the office.

I stood there in a pure white dress—like a heavenly nurse—thanks to the maids’ insistence. Yet Ricardo looked perfectly healthy, enough to make my outfit feel meaningless.

“…”

After staring at me for a long time, Ricardo finally spoke.

“Sit.”

Ah… what is this.

Regret washed over me as I sat down at the table.

Awkwardly, I began to unpack the desserts and tea.

“I’m not sure these things are really necessary, but…”

I poured him some sweet honey tea I always drank whenever my throat hurt.

It had ginger in it. This world didn’t have a tradition of brewing ginger into tea.

So this tea was essentially my own invention here.

“It’s good to drink something warm when your throat hurts.”

Ricardo watched me in silence as I poured.

“It has a unique aroma.”

“It’s ginger. Good for easing colds.”

“Something you learned from the Grand Duke?”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“Because I’m often sick… I’ve been trying different ways to get sick less often.”

At that, Ricardo, cup in hand, froze for a moment.

After a pause, he replied quietly,

“…I see.”

Whenever I fell ill, doctors would swarm in, but none ever discovered the true cause of my weak constitution.

Jin’s elixirs kept me stable at best, but nothing more.

“…”

Ricardo finally sipped the honey-ginger tea.

He set down the cup after a moment, lips parting.

“I never cared for honey, but… the ginger tempers it nicely, not unpleasant at all.”

So he liked it more than I expected.

I offered him some cookies next.

“I thought you might. That’s why I also brought lemon-and-ginger cookies.”

Looking at how perfectly fine he was, I wondered if I had overdone it. But still, no one dislikes kindness.

And after all, whenever I was sick, he sent doctors and sometimes even came to check on me himself.

Rumor had it that Winchester practically monopolized the best doctors in the Empire.

So, just for today, I wanted to give him some care in return.

“…”

Crunch. Ricardo bit into a cookie.

I watched him expectantly, waiting for his impression.

“…Actually, I baked them myself, thinking of you, Father.”

Somehow, I had blurted out something unnecessary.

Ricardo chewed silently, then moved his lips again.

The face that was always so cold and frightening seemed strangely peaceful today.

“…cough.”