Holding his swollen cheek, the doctor stammered, sweating profusely.
“My lord, we’ve tried everything! Even ancient remedies, but we’ve never seen a disease like this. All we can say is to wait…”
“So you’re saying she might stay like this forever?”
“B-based on our current assessment… yes.”
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”
Zeppelin spewed curses, his tearful eyes fixed on Rebecca.
She gazed back with a sorrowful expression.
“Zeppelin… It’s okay. I’ll recover soon…”
“Of course you will. I’ll make you perfect again!”
“Then… I’ll trust you…”
Rebecca fainted dramatically.
Kanna touched her forehead, then checked the thermometer, exclaiming.
“This is bad. Her fever’s much higher than yesterday, and her breathing’s rough.”
One physician cautiously addressed Zeppelin.
“My lord, the lady needs absolute rest.”
Zeppelin glared but, finding sense in the words, sighed.
“Fine. We’ll talk in the study. If you value your lives, find a cure.”
The physicians exchanged glances at his warning.
Enduring Zeppelin’s temper, this was a good job—double the pay elsewhere, no frail elderly to tend.
But now their lives were on the line.
How did it come to this?
They swallowed hard, bowing.
“We’ll do our best!”
Zeppelin didn’t spare them a glance, clicking his tongue before turning to Rebecca.
Without crossing the threshold, he whispered tenderly.
“Rebecca, I’m back. Everything will return to normal.”
No reply came from the unconscious Rebecca.
He closed the door carefully and left.
The moment it shut, Rebecca’s eyes snapped open.
“How was my acting, Kanna?”
“Superb.”
“You saw it, right? Zeppelin, too scared to come near, trembling as if I’d taint him.”
“I’m not surprised. That’s who he is.”
“Exactly. That’s Zeppelin Devonshire. Caring more for himself than his sick wife.”
Rebecca closed her eyes again.
“All that talk of love is a lie. True love doesn’t exist. When you stop getting what you want, it shatters. Why call it something grand like love?”
“That’s not true…”
Kanna believed in true love but didn’t argue, seeing Rebecca’s exhaustion.
Rebecca groaned.
“Kanna… the itching is driving me mad. My head hurts too.”
Kanna hurriedly fetched an ice pack, soothing her body.
Rebecca murmured weakly.
“Ha… that’s better. It’s worse than I expected.”
Kanna asked, concerned.
“Lady Rebecca, are you sure you’ll recover? I’ve never seen a disease like this.”
“How long have you lived to say that? The world’s full of things we don’t know. I’ll heal. I will.”
When Kanna stayed silent, Rebecca tapped her nose.
“Don’t make that face. It hurts me to see it. Trust me, Kanna. The fever will break soon. The blisters will linger, though.”
“How could I not trust you…?”
Smiling at Kanna, Rebecca gasped, succumbing to the fever and falling asleep.
* * *
In the study, Zeppelin scrutinized the physicians’ reports.
Their claim of trying everything wasn’t a lie.
Flipping pages, he slammed the desk.
“How did this happen?! Rebecca! Oh, Rebecca!”
He clutched his face in despair.
“My lord, I have something to say.”
Octavio, quietly refilling Zeppelin’s glass, spoke.
“Unless it helps, keep quiet.”
Zeppelin chugged his drink irritably.
Octavio said cautiously.
“It might be relevant.”
“Speak.”
“There’s a rumor the lady’s illness is divine.”
“Divine?”
“Since you left, rumors have spread that Lady Rebecca is a saint.”
“What’s new? She’s been revered as one for ages.”
“This is different. I’ve observed she has divine foresight.”
“Foresight? Octavio, did you take something while I was gone? What nonsense.”
“It’s true. Many servants have been helped by her.”
“Even if true, why wasn’t I told?”
“It seems… her divine power is suppressed for some reason.”
“Who spread such absurd rumors?”
Octavio took a deep breath.
“Robert.”
“Robert…?”
Zeppelin fell into thought.
Octavio, seeing his anger subside, smiled subtly.
Grace had warned against mentioning the saint rumor, but Octavio thought differently.
Rebecca’s incurable illness was a done deal.
As a butler, his duty was to distract Zeppelin with something else.
And maybe remove some thorns in the process.
Octavio knew Zeppelin best, catering to his whims.
“You know Robert wouldn’t spread baseless rumors. Call him for questioning.”
Octavio lit incense, its custom blend wafting through the study.
Zeppelin inhaled deeply, exhaling as tension melted.
His voice softened.
“Right, why didn’t I think of Robert? He’s been by Rebecca’s side always.”
“Shock clouds the mind. But you’re so brilliant, you find answers quickly.”
“Hmm… I am clever…”
Octavio kneaded Zeppelin’s stiff shoulders.
As the incense thickened, Zeppelin relaxed into a dreamy state.
Soon, he dozed off in his chair.
Octavio carefully moved him to the bedroom.
Today’s handled. Now to find who intercepted the letters…
“Octavio, is the lord asleep?”
Grace’s cold face greeted him as he closed the bedroom door.
Narrowing his already thin eyes, Octavio replied.
“I’ve handled it, so no need for you to worry, Grace.”
Calling her by name instead of “head maid” made her eyes twitch.
She preferred “head maid” for its authority.
“Lady” sounded old, and her name felt too familiar, too weak.
But Octavio always called her “Grace” or “Miss Grace” since they met.
His consistent disrespect grated on her, but she suppressed her anger.
She had something to confirm.
Octavio, sensing her intent, smirked.
“Wondering if I told him about the saint rumor?”
“You didn’t, did you?”
Grace uncrossed her arms, staring at him.
“Why so shocked? The lord has a right to know what happens here. I’d like to know why you wanted it hushed.”
“Just loyalty, to ease his burdens. No other motive.”
“Good, then.”
Octavio smiled faintly, probing.
Grace smoothly changed the subject.
“This scent… You used that forbidden incense from the previous lord?”
“He’s long gone. Lord Zeppelin allows it. What’s the issue?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“The lord wanted calm. He got it. That’s enough.”
Octavio just smiled.
Octavio Limen, a poor noble of unknown origins, rose from servant to butler under Jakim Devonshire’s trust.
Along with Grace, he’d educated Zeppelin from childhood.
Zeppelin followed him more than his father, relying on him even as the count.
Octavio could calm Zeppelin’s rages with a word.
Appointing him head of the hounds proved his trust.
Octavio cared only for results, not process—opposite to Grace’s meticulous nature.
Meeting her wary gaze, he grinned slyly.
“Oh, I told him Robert started the rumor. Investigate him.”
“…!”
Grace’s dark eyes wavered briefly.
Octavio caught it, studying her face.
Quickly composing herself, she said flatly.
“What’s that to me?”
“Well, he could’ve been your son-in-law, so I thought you’d care.”
