Did I swear in my sleep or something?
As I blinked my eyelids open in confusion, the man before me finally started acting like a living human being again.
Those murky red eyes shifted languidly.
What, is there some kind of superstition that says whoever wakes up first can’t be the one to speak first?
I thought of the Marquis of Rubian, who’d also kept silent as if someone had glued his mouth shut. Just as I began to get tired of the silence and moved slightly—
“Stay still.”
“You… can… actually… talk…”
“Don’t speak.”
Then what am I allowed to do, huh?
My face must’ve said everything, because his eyes glinted faintly in response.
“Just lie still.”
Fortunately, Caron had a knack for understanding even the most ridiculous expressions.
Emboldened, I fired off another question with my eyes.
What are you doing here?
Caron thought back to an hour ago—his trembling hands, the screams threatening to spill from his throat.
And yet, the madness had stayed quiet. Which meant all that fear and helplessness… had been entirely his own emotion.
He exhaled dully.
“Visiting the sick.”
The answer was so incomplete that I couldn’t help but frown.
What happened at the imperial palace?
“……”
Well?
“Do you remember what the saint said—that there would be no witnesses?”
I nodded. That moment of her loud, mocking laughter was unforgettable.
“She was right. People’s memories have been erased.”
My blue eyes widened. There was no such thing as magic that could erase memories. Which meant…
“Yeah. It seems to be because of the blue mark.”
So that was why they were so confident—if no one remembered, there would be no proof.
The crown prince, future ruler of the empire, and the saint, beloved by the people as God’s chosen—against them, the secret order’s members, Caron, and Leon didn’t stand a chance.
…So it’ll just get buried like this.
Biting my lip in frustration, I suddenly had a thought.
What if I used the Purification of Azure magic again—
“No. Don’t even think about it.”
He must’ve read my mind. His lips pressed into a firm line.
Not that I’d planned to try immediately, so I simply blinked innocently.
“The imperial palace is controlling the situation. They’re framing it as a terrorist attack from a foreign nation. People who’ve lost their memories have no choice but to believe it.”
Is it Freca Kingdom?
That was one of the opposing powers the crown prince had mentioned—alongside the Grand Duke of Lefert and the Holy Empire.
Freca had long been an enemy of the empire. A closed nation, easy to demonize.
Caron nodded.
“Thanks to that, public outrage against Freca grows by the day.”
At this point, I was honestly impressed by how easily he understood my silent questions.
How do you even get what I’m saying? Are you a mind reader or something?
“Try looking in a mirror and saying that. You’re so expressive it’s almost a miracle.”
Caron gave a small snort and smoothly changed the subject.
“The emperor is looking for you.”
That senile, crazy old man—why?!
Technically, the emperor was middle-aged, but that didn’t matter when I was this angry.
Caron’s mouth curved slightly at my venomous tone.
“More accurately, he’s looking for the one who brought down the blue rain. But don’t worry—there’s no trace of you left.”
That was Chelsea Rebellin’s doing.
To destroy the evidence, she’d gone and burned down the imperial palace roof. Thanks to that, not even a single strand of my hair could be found.
The bald-headed palace had since entered emergency reconstruction.
But my brief satisfaction faded to unease.
It won’t end with just one incident.
We still didn’t know their real goal. The “original story” was supposed to be a simple romance, wasn’t it…?
“For now, they can’t do anything.”
Because you half-killed them, I thought, just as he muttered darkly,
“I half-killed them.”
After handing me over to the Marquis of Rubian, Caron had returned to the palace—because unless he destroyed something, he couldn’t calm down.
And, as luck would have it, he’d run into the crown prince venting his anger on his subordinates.
[You useless idiots! You couldn’t even handle one job, and look what you’ve caused!]
[Having trouble, Your Highness?]
[G–Grand Duke? Wait—why are you pointing that gun at—Aagh!]
[It hurts more if it’s not a clean hit. Stay still.]
[W–why are you—ack!—doing this to me?!]
[Because I’m in a foul mood.]
[H-how dare you—ugh! Stop, please!]
[Don’t run. If you die by accident, it’ll be troublesome.]
“I just gave him a few extra holes,” Caron said calmly.
I stared at him blankly.
Was that… supposed to be a good thing?
Before I could decide, shouting came from outside the window—Leon’s voice.
“Get out! She’s sick!”
“They’ve been like that for a while now,” Caron commented.
The only difference was that now the Marquis of Rubian had joined in.
“If you don’t step aside, I’ll use force.”
What on earth is going on out there?
I pricked up my ears, and Caron, circling the bed, opened the window for me. The voices grew clearer.
“I beg you. We desperately need a healing mage.”
“You’re demanding labor from a patient?”
“Is she the only healer in existence? Find someone else!”
The imperial servants were flustered. The Rubian father and son chirped angrily like furious sparrows.
“There were too many injured in the attack. The palace can’t handle them all.”
“Enough. We’re leaving.”
The other servants, watching the scene nervously, finally gave up and pulled their colleague away.
But once they were a little distance off, they began muttering.
“What’s so special about a healing mage anyway.”
“Exactly. She’s probably faking it.”
They must’ve thought no one could hear them. Unfortunately for them, mages have sharper hearing than normal humans—and everyone present, aside from the servants, was a mage.
“Hey, what did you just say?”
Leon’s expression hardened. He stomped forward and grabbed the insolent servant by the collar.
“This is all because of who, huh—”
“Leon, calm down.”
“Let me go!”
The shouting grew louder until Caron shut the window.
“That should do it.”
How long has that been going on?
“For a while. Ah, your brother just threw a punch.”
He started giving me a live commentary.
Rubian landed another hit. The servant’s running away—using magic, too? The marquis is clapping now.
The blow-by-blow narration finally ended, and Caron glanced at my uneasy expression.
“Just so you know—don’t worry about it.”
“……”
“They’re short on healers to treat the crown prince.”
So basically… this was all Caron’s fault.
“It’s not even a fatal wound. Such dramatics.”
I sighed, staring at him with exasperation.
Then, with effort, I moved my sore throat and whispered one word.
“…Caron.”
“Don’t talk—wait. Did you just call me Caron?”
He froze mid-scolding. One brow lifted, his tone slightly higher than usual.
“So you’re calling me Caron again?”
He was right. The feverish turmoil in my mind had finally settled.
“Caron.”
“Why do you keep saying my name?”
He tilted his head slightly, keeping that faint, unreadable smile.
Our hands hovered, close enough to brush but never touching.
I will change the story—
No, I will change Caron’s ending.
This whole ordeal had made it clear.
If Caron dies… I think I’ll be sad.
My gaze lifted slowly upward.
Thanks to the rain imbued with Azure Purification magic, I could now see Caron’s karma level.
It was high—but not dangerously so.
I need to prepare for two possibilities.
If his karma reached 100 and killed him—or if, as in the original story, his madness consumed him and led him to suicide.
I might be able to prevent the first with enough effort…
But the madness was another matter. Still, I’d realized something new.
Maybe the Azure magic can affect the mind too.
It had worked on that “something” in the flowerpot that caused mental disturbance.
Chelsea’s theory—once dismissed as mere placebo—was now proven right.
I’ll need to test it properly later.
First, though, I had to recover. If I tried using magic now, I wouldn’t be the only one foaming at the mouth—
I might be the first.
A brief period of peace followed the chaos.
Maybe it was just the change of season—summer had arrived.
“Oh dear, where did my spring go…”
Once I was well enough to move like a human being again, it was already mid-June.
Sighing like a weary old woman, I passed through the imperial gates.
Beside me, Chelsea gave me a sharp look.
“Jeryl, are you really thinking of accepting their offer?”
“I said I’m still considering it. You’ve asked me that ten times already, Chelsea.”
“I just don’t trust it. That den of old foxes and rotten politics—”
Her insults toward the royal family were growing impressively creative.
“We’ve arrived at the First Knight Order.”
The carriage door opened, and a neatly gloved hand extended in invitation.
“Jeryl, I hope the ride wasn’t uncomfortable?”
“Ian.”
