Chapter 81

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 81

Chapter Title: Three Days Without Awakening

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The Crown Prince Palace, which should have been overflowing with joy from the success of the banquet at Artanus Hall, was instead filled with worry and tension for the third straight day.

This was a fact known only to the close aides in the Crown Prince Palace: the Crown Princess lay bedridden with illness.

Annie, who had recently received her title and become an official lady-in-waiting, stood before the door to the Ivory Bedroom with a towel, basin, and ice, her face haggard from three sleepless nights.

Then, the knight who had stood there unmoving like a statue carved into the door called out her name.

"Dame Loren."

His jaw was covered in stubble from guarding the door ironclad for three days straight.

At the unfamiliar honorific, Annie shook her head.

"No, Sir Beltein. Please call me Annie like you always have."

"I can't do that. You're a titled lady now, in your own right. Isn't that Her Highness's will?"

"That was just... for the banquet..."

"No matter the reason, it was our lady who decided and made it happen."

"...This feels too much for me. I want to ask Her Highness to take it back as soon as possible."

Hilia had been unconscious for three straight days now.

So she couldn't hear Annie's grumbling or Sir Beltein's rigid principles.

"I pray Her Highness recovers soon, but I doubt she'll revoke the title for you."

"My heart races just hearing 'Dame.' I wish she'd wake up soon and listen to me beg her to take it back..."

In the end, Annie couldn't hold back her tears.

Sir Beltein reached out and took the basin from her hands.

So she could wipe her tears with her sleeve.

At that moment, the door flew open.

"!"

Annie nearly fainted in shock, but Sir Beltein didn't waver in the slightest.

There was only one person who could emerge from that door.

Annie steadied her surprise and asked,

"Y-Your Highness! How is Her Highness doing?"

"......"

Arpad gave no reply.

He simply reached out and snatched the basin from Sir Beltein and the towel from Annie.

Just like he had for the past three days, he was about to enter the Ivory Bedroom alone when...

Annie mustered every ounce of courage she didn't know she had and cried out.

"P-Please, let us see Her Highness's face too! Let me, who's served her since childhood, tend to her at her side...!"

But before Annie could finish, Arpad slammed the door shut.

"...Ah."

Annie raised her hand in helpless regret.

But the firmly shut door showed no sign of opening, just as it hadn't for three days.

Sir Beltein stared at the closed door for a moment before resuming his guard post in front of it.

As if to ensure no danger could reach the room's occupant.

He recalled the conflict that had unfolded before this door three days ago.

Hilia had collapsed just before entering the bedroom.

Her body had been in poor shape from overexertion, but fortunately, her most trusted aides were by her side.

Annie and Sir Beltein, along with a few close lady-in-waiting and knights under them.

Arpad was the first to see her fall and the one who scooped her up in his arms.

His face pale in a way that didn't suit him, he shouted,

"Call the palace physician! Now!"

"Y-Yes!"

"...Do it as discreetly as possible. No rumors."

At his command, the Crown Prince's chamberlain moved personally.

Arpad was the one who carried Hilia to the bed.

Sir Beltein watched Arpad's impatient profile and impulsively spoke up.

"Why call the physician in secret?"

With Hilia unconscious, this was the first conversation between the two men.

Until then, they had paid no attention to each other.

Their gazes had been fixed solely on one woman.

Without turning, Arpad shot back,

"Why do you ask?"

"...I'm just surprised politics comes first even in this situation."

Only then did Arpad lift his eyes.

And for the first time in his life, Sir Beltein felt a chilling dread.

Like ice—no, the edge of a sharpened blade grazing his nape.

Arpad's killing intent had taken form, aimed straight at him.

"...She'll wake up furious if the achievements she fought for are shaken."

Sir Beltein was taken aback by Arpad's words.

It was a deeper consideration than he could have imagined.

Having said his piece, Arpad was visibly emotionally shaken—far from his usual self.

Even Sir Beltein, who was poor at reading others' emotions, could sense Arpad was holding back.

'That's... only natural.'

Arpad had abducted Hilia in a bride abduction marriage because he was smitten with her.

And yet... why did it hit him like such a shock?

Sir Beltein struggled to grasp his own feelings.

He wasn't given the leisure to realize they bordered on jealousy.

The very next moment, Arpad drove everyone from the bedroom.

"Get out."

"I am Her Highness's knight. I follow her orders alone!"

At Sir Beltein's near-insolent words, Arpad sneered coldly.

"I'm enough to guard her side. I won't give my wife reason to wake up angry."

In short: leave if you don't want to die.

And Sir Beltein realized.

Arpad right now was like a dragon whose reverse scale had been touched.

They say a dragon's skin is covered flawlessly in steel-like scales, save for one spot before the heart: soft scales growing backward.

The absolute weakness that fells any dragon in one strike if pierced.

He had the gut feeling that defying him once more here could provoke anything from Arpad.

So he stepped back and forced open his reluctant lips.

Forcing lips that wanted to seal shut from fear of death.

"Then permit me to stand guard at the door. I am her knight."

"Do as you like."

Arpad dismissed him indifferently and shut the door.

Bam!

And so three days passed where no one but the palace's master entered.

The palace physician's diagnosis was straightforward.

"It's syncope from overwork. Her stamina is low, so we'll give her protective medicine. With plenty of rest, she'll recover fully."

When her fever didn't break all day, Arpad had the chamberlain summon the court mage as well.

The court mage, greatly intrigued by the recording magic tool Hilia had showcased at the banquet, gladly made the trip despite his heavy steps.

But unable to question her about the magic tool with her unconscious, he left visibly disappointed.

His diagnosis wasn't much different from the physician's.

"No need for great concern. Her mana flow is normal."

But on the third day, Hilia still hadn't woken.

Arpad reached out and touched his wife's pink cheek on the bed.

It felt hot and damp.

A foul, anxious displeasure welled up in him.

'Should I just kill those quacks after all.'

Arpad didn't trust the palace physician. Nor the court mage.

Neither had been able to cure his mother or him.

The mania that plagued the imperial family for generations, its cause unknown.

The imperial family had worked in secret to resolve it.

Especially in Arpad's case, symptoms had appeared shortly after his mother's death, worrying the Emperor greatly.

For his son, he scoured the continent for the finest physicians and mages.

The current palace physician and court mage were the best of them.

'But they couldn't touch the mania.'

No one in the empire's long history had.

But this woman was different.

"I can ensure Your Highness ascends the throne safely without going mad."

Those words seemed true.

No—perhaps the opposite.

He felt like he'd go mad because of her first, before any mania.

All because of this tiny woman who had been feverish and unconscious for three days straight.

Arpad felt a vicious thirst surging from deep in his throat.

A sensation he never felt when Hilia was by his side, voicing her complaints.

The anxiety and displeasure choking him amplified, crawling up his spine.

Utterly unfamiliar, utterly unlike him.

That was why he had driven everyone away.

Just gazing at collapsed Hilia frayed his nerves to the breaking point.

If a noisy maid fussed over her concern, or that knight lingered nearby, his scant patience might evaporate at any moment.

To put it simply, he had chased them out to avoid killing anyone.

That was when it happened.

Hilia's parched lips twitched faintly.

"...Uh."

"...Hilia?"

Arpad thought his own voice sounded utterly strange.

Like a throat scraped raw by razors.

Hilia would laugh and call him an idiot for it.

But the thought didn't last.

Because the feverish Hilia let out a scream.

"...No! Arpad!"

"!"