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Chapter 41
“What… what’s happening!”
The host of today’s party, Count Horatio, burst through the crowd. Having thrown this banquet beyond his means for his youngest daughter’s marriage, seeing Mio Northum standing upright at the center of the chaos made him feel as if the sky itself had fallen.
‘Oh no, oh no! I had no choice but to send an invitation to that wicked woman if I wanted to invite Miss Caleb, and now she’s going and causing trouble!’
Earlier, he had been secretly pleased that she had said she would come immediately upon arrival. If he had known she would cause a huge incident before leaving, he would have tried to hold her back for just a little while longer!
Someone came running to the flustered Count.
“They say someone poisoned the food.”
“That’s impossible! Everything served today was top-quality! I personally inspected it all!”
“But… look over there. Duke Moro is in that state.”
Only then did the Count notice Duke Moro standing beside Mio Northum, drenched in blood. Upon seeing that, the Count collapsed to the floor.
‘…An attempt on a royal’s life happened at my banquet…?’
He imagined being dragged off and executed for regicide. The grim future flashed before his eyes. Ah, not only would he not see his youngest daughter married, he might not even live to see his own birthday. Just then, someone approached the struggling Count.
“Lady Aletheia drank a glass of the beverage earlier, Count.”
“Ugh… what…?”
“The servant who brought it had brown hair and looked to be about this tall.”
“Ah…”
“What are you doing? Go immediately and fetch them. Also, prepare a vacant room where Lady Aletheia can rest away from this chaos. I assume you already know a physician must be summoned as well?”
At these commands, the Count scrambled to his feet and shouted:
“Gather all the servants immediately! From this moment on, no one may leave this mansion!”
The Count arranged a guest room upstairs for Aletheia. The servant who guided them trembled and delivered news that a physician was on the way before scurrying off. Once the door closed, Mio spoke urgently.
“What on earth happened?”
“I’m fine. Can’t we just return to the mansion?”
“Fine? Look at yourself!”
She took his hand and led him to the mirror. Aletheia quietly covered her face.
“…It’s a mess. I need to wash up.”
As he followed her to the en suite bathroom, Mio trailed closely, chattering nervously.
“What did you drink? Do you remember who gave it to you? Why did you drink it? Didn’t you sense anything from the servant? Is your mind-reading ability broken or something?”
Mio felt her chest tighten. She really couldn’t take her eyes off Aletheia for even a moment. How could such a thing happen in the time it took to be away for just a bit?
As Aletheia turned on the water and began washing the blood off her face, she said:
“It’s nothing serious. At times like this, it’s actually easier to just let it happen once.”
“What did you say?”
Mio, flabbergasted, pulled out a handkerchief.
“If you ignore it, they’ll try again and again. It’s better to consider it a success at least once. Thanks to today, things should stay quiet for a while.”
“What exactly did you drink?!”
“Poison.”
Mio froze while wiping the remaining water from Aletheia’s face.
“Th-then… does that mean you’re dying right now?”
“…I won’t die. It’ll be tough for a few days, though.”
“My god… why would anyone do such a thing…”
Mio muttered in disbelief. She couldn’t understand. She had a so-called “fraudulent” mind-reading ability, yet knowingly drank poison?
But for Aletheia, it was the obvious choice.
‘I must make sure Duke Moro—or at the very least, Mio Northum—drinks this.’
The servant who brought the poisoned drink had kept muttering exactly that. If Aletheia hadn’t taken the glass herself, the servant would have immediately gone to Mio. Taking the poison herself was, in every way, the correct decision.
“Mio. Don’t ever eat or drink anything carelessly from now on.”
A warning that could save someone.
“Hmph. If you knew that, you should have been more careful, Rete.”
But Mio, ignoring the sacrificial warning, replied angrily and guided her to the bed.
“Lie down for now. The physician will arrive soon.”
“…I want to go home.”
“No. We need to catch the culprit.”
Aletheia reluctantly perched on the bed and said:
“The servant who delivered the drink is probably dead by now. There’s no way they’d survive. They didn’t even know who told them to deliver it.”
“….”
“In the end, it was only the servant who tragically lost their life.”
Aletheia spoke as if saving at least one life from a second poisoning attempt was an achievement. Mio countered:
“Rete, you’re thinking completely wrong. If I were that servant, I’d want the real culprit who used me to be punished.”
“If someone is sending people to kill me, it won’t be easy to catch them. Even if you’re lucky enough to grab the culprit’s trail, they could still escape punishment.”
Aletheia’s voice conveyed that swallowing the poison herself was the only way to minimize all damage.
“Sigh… so you’re just going to let it happen?”
“As long as I don’t die, they’ll give up. It’s always been that way.”
“…Since when have these things been happening?”
“Maybe around eight years old. After my parents passed away.”
Eight years old? That’s practically infancy.
She had survived repeated poisoning attempts for so many years? And since she said she wouldn’t die from it now, it seems she’s become highly resistant from experience.
‘So the near-immortal poison resistance typical of the world’s strongest really came from this involuntary environment.’
At that thought, an unfamiliar emotion arose in Mio.
‘Had Aletheia gone mad from experiencing so many of these attempts before losing her memory?’
Perhaps she had faced serious attempts on her life over the past six years. It was so traumatic that her survival instincts erased the memories entirely.
Ah, this is exactly what people call sympathy, Mio thought, his expression serious. She was an unexpected complication. Not only surviving poison effortlessly, but also the way she remained composed…
‘If she continues to be exposed to poisoning like this, Aletheia could truly go mad again.’
She had experienced it from a young age, so being triggered now might restore memories of the past six years’ trauma.
‘No. I can’t let gentle Rete go mad again…!’
At that moment, Aletheia began muttering nonsense again.
“Blood is just part of the antidote…”
“Rete, don’t give up!”
Mio, without realizing it, hugged her tightly. It was a desperate attempt to prevent her from breaking from shock. But the warmth and reassurance he felt was actually for himself.
He realized that Aletheia still had hot blood flowing—she was very much alive. Mio tightened his embrace and said:
“It’s not too late. It’s too early to give up.”
Hey. You can still stay sane! At least for the next three months, don’t lose yourself! I’ll protect you!
Mio stroked the back of Aletheia’s head with that intention. Her hair was unexpectedly soft—so soft it could serve as a substitute when missing baby foxes.
‘Rete… don’t go mad!’
While appreciating that she was alive and warm, a small voice came from her.
“…Okay, I will.”
Even Aletheia herself was unclear what she was responding to.
