Chapter 13

The physician's hands moved busily as he tore open Cedric's sleeve to examine the wound.

Cedric's vision blurred.

For a moment, everything split into two before merging back into one.

Noticing Cedric's head sway, Cassel stopped speaking mid-sentence.

"Is the poison really that strong?"

"...I said I'm fine."

"Even so, poison is poison. You need to take the antidote properly—"

It was becoming difficult to focus.

Cedric pressed a hand to his forehead, then froze.

The intense heat radiating into his palm gave him pause.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Instead, he collapsed forward.

And everything faded into darkness.

When Cedric opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a soft bed.

One glance at the ceiling was enough to tell him he was in his own room.

The curtains were drawn, and judging by the faint sunlight filtering through them, it was still daytime.

"...Cassel."

His voice came out rough and dry.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he frowned.

Over the years, he had built resistance to countless poisons, but this one had apparently been potent enough to knock him unconscious.

The person who answered, however, was not Cassel.

It was Eden.

"You've finally awakened, Young Master."

It seemed he had been standing guard the entire time.

Eden pushed himself away from the wall where he had been leaning with folded arms.

"How are you feeling?"

Instead of answering, Cedric slowly blinked.

Then he asked a question of his own.

"...How long was I out?"

"You collapsed last night. It is now the following afternoon. Even with your resistance, a full recovery takes time."

"You stayed here all night?"

"...You slept more comfortably than expected."

"Don't do that next time. Even if Cassel orders it, take turns and get some rest."

"I was worried."

"The physician said I'd be fine."

Frowning, Cedric pushed himself upright.

The room was saturated with the smell of medicine.

The heavy air felt suffocating.

He wanted to open a window.

"You shouldn't move so suddenly."

But a wave of dizziness hit him immediately.

Cedric pressed a hand against his head and sank back onto the bed.

"It's just... stuffy in here."

"I'll open the window."

As Eden moved to do so, Cedric tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

"The ball? What happened afterward?"

"It ended without incident. No one knows you were injured. We judged it best not to let that information spread."

So the assassins had been dealt with quietly.

"...And Eileen?"

As his mind gradually cleared, she was the first person who came to mind.

Their conversation had never been finished.

He had lost consciousness before he could finish speaking.

What was she thinking now?

"Did Eileen send any message?"

Without realizing it, his eyes drifted toward the door.

Even Cedric found the gesture unfamiliar.

Eileen Cassier was not the type of person to leave things unresolved.

If she thought there was still something left to say, she would have stormed in first thing in the morning.

Honestly, that was exactly what he had expected.

But Eden's answer was firm.

"Lady Eileen has sent no message."

"...I see."

Cedric instinctively reached up to rub his face but stopped when pain shot through him.

That only made the unease in his chest worse.

She was undoubtedly angry.

Even if the circumstances had been urgent, Cedric had ultimately pushed her away with cold words.

No one understood better than he did that he had not done the right thing.

And yet...

He could not help feeling slightly disappointed that she had not offered even the smallest explanation or excuse.

While Cedric sat in troubled silence, Eden carefully spoke.

"Would you like me to inform Lady Eileen of your condition?"

"The assassination attempt must not leave this room. Just tell her I suffered a minor injury during sword training."

"I'll convey that."

Only after the words left his mouth did Cedric realize how pathetic they sounded.

As if he were using an injury as an excuse to attract Eileen's attention.

"Wait..."

He tried to stop Eden, but the knight had already disappeared from the room.

Would she even care that I was hurt?

Even if she laughed at him, he would have no right to complain.

Yet after Eden left and he sat alone staring at the wall, his thoughts slowly began to change.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Eileen scolded him for saying something unnecessary.

If only he could hear her voice one more time.

It would be a lie to say that Eileen Cassier had not been hurt by Cedric Lowell's cold words.

But instead of sinking into despair or sadness, she chose to turn that hurt into anger.

That was simply the kind of person she was.

Someone who refused to break easily.

Knock. Knock.

And so, the morning after the ball, she stood before the Count's office with a determined expression.

"Count Cassier, may I come in?"

He always pretended to be affectionate and insisted she call him "uncle."

But Eileen no longer had any intention of acknowledging him as family.

That was why she deliberately used only cold, formal titles.

"Come in."

As expected, the Count answered in a warm voice the moment she knocked.

"What is it? I was just about to write a letter to Young Lord Lowell—"

"I heard you said something unnecessary."

Click.

The door closed behind her, cutting him off.

She went straight to the point.

Her gaze fell upon the new desk in the room.

It was an expensive piece of furniture, polished until it gleamed.

The old wooden desk her father had once used had vanished without a trace.

She remembered sneaking into this room as a child despite her mother's objections, pestering her father while he worked.

But now the room was completely different.

It no longer carried warmth.

It no longer stirred nostalgia.

Once again, she was reminded of a painful truth.

There was no place left for her here.

Still, she had not come to dwell on memories.

"...What exactly did you say to Young Lord Lowell?"

Pulling her gaze away, she looked at the Count.

"I merely said what needed to be said."

Clearing his throat, the Count rose from his chair.

His hands were clasped behind his back.

"Was it truly necessary to suggest that I take an unidentified knight as my personal guard?"

"That boy is the son of one of my loyal subordinates. He isn't a stranger. You can trust him."

Just as expected.

Not a single step outside her prediction.

Rather than rewarding a loyal subordinate with his own money, he intended to use her marriage to display his influence.

No doubt he was already calculating how much he could gain from the ducal family.

"The issue isn't whether I can trust him. You were trying to plant one of your people inside the ducal household."

"Why would you think that? They're all people of the Cassier family, aren't they? The more of our family's people there are in the ducal estate, the easier your married life will be."

"I don't need that. So don't ever approach Cedric Lowell in that manner again."

This was not merely a matter of irritation.

It was a matter of pride.

Eileen had always hated looking pitiful.

And she could not forgive the Count's selfish behavior.

How Cedric viewed her was a separate issue.

Regardless of who it involved, she would not tolerate someone using the name Cassier for such schemes.

The name Cassier carried responsibility.

Her grandmother and parents had taught her that better than anyone.

"The Cassier family is not one that clings to power in this way."

Just a little longer.

Just a few more years.

As long as she could safely endure life behind the shield called Lowell under the Emperor's orders.

That was all she needed to do.

But after that?

Eileen could already see it.

The future of House Cassier sinking into the mud, consumed by greed and power struggles.

She could not simply stand by and watch.

"If Grandmother were still alive... if Father were still here... they never would have done something like this."

"You must have spent too much time with your fiancé. Have you forgotten what should and shouldn't be said?"

To the Count, Eileen was nothing more than a powerless noble lady.

A woman who would eventually marry out of the family.

What right did someone like her have to speak on behalf of the house?

Most people would think the same.

But Eileen did not care.

Everyone she had loved had already left her side.

What remained with her now were only the values and memories they had left behind.

So how could she simply abandon the name Cassier?

How could she not care?

How could she possibly ignore it?