Regaining my senses, I found myself trapped in Claude’s arms.
Instead of clutching the bedsheet, he tightly gripped my waist.
It wasn’t intentional—more like he was grasping at anything to endure the pain.
His faint groans tickled my ear, and the hard muscles of his back pressed vividly against me.
Feeling his heartbeat through our closeness, my face flushed unexpectedly.
Hoo, I steadied my breath, staring at the soaked bedcover where the medicine had spilled.
Thankfully, I always packed extra, a habit that now proved fortunate despite the heavy bag.
As I eyed the medicine bag on the table and tried to rise, a low, languid voice brushed my ear.
“…Cool.”
His ragged breath mingled with the words.
“…So cool.”
Claude began to envelop me fully, like clutching a cooling pillow.
Startled, I gasped and instinctively pulled back.
But the more I resisted, the hotter his body felt, like a furnace.
The weight of his arm around my waist and his fingers threading through my hair felt dreamlike yet starkly real.
My heart pounded, my body stiffening rapidly.
Buried in his embrace, I realized I couldn’t break free alone and spoke hesitantly.
“Your Highness, could you please release me? The medicine spilled, so I need to get another.”
My pleading tone had no effect; he only held me tighter.
Desperate, I struggled with all my strength to escape his grip.
“…Don’t go.”
His heated breath carried a low growl.
This prince!
A heart seizure is serious.
I’m not some comfort doll—does he think holding me will cure him?
Stunned but aware that provoking his fragile state would do no good, I suppressed my frustration and spoke gently.
“If you don’t take the medicine soon, you could fall into a coma or your heart might stop. Please, just loosen your arms for a moment, and I’ll grab another vial.”
As I tried to nudge his arm away, he growled again.
“I said don’t go.”
“…”
“It’s an order.”
Haa. I froze, letting out a deep sigh.
Defying a royal command could mean execution—countless had faced that fate.
I couldn’t squander this opportunity by dying senselessly.
Relaxing my struggling body, I closed my eyes.
When faced with an unsolvable problem, sometimes pausing is the best approach.
Resigning myself to playing his comfort doll for now, I plotted how to escape his iron grip.
His body was scorching, but I could endure it.
I’d always been resilient to heat and cold, never even catching a cold.
“Your Highness, are you feeling any better?”
Ten minutes passed, and I glanced at the grandfather clock.
No response.
Looking down, I saw his large, veined hand trembling slightly.
As another seizure seemed to hit, he gritted his teeth and gripped my waist tighter.
“…I’ll do it. I’ll protect…”
Muttering incomprehensible words, he seemed lost in hallucinations.
Ugh, the medicine is right there in the bag!
Why is he doing this to me?
I stared longingly at the bag, then glanced at the door.
Alvin and the butler were waiting outside—should I shout?
But I quickly dismissed the idea.
Making a scene in front of a hallucinating, seizing patient was practically begging for trouble.
Each tick of the clock felt like my insides were burning.
Sighing deeply, a passage from a medical text came to mind: singing could calm a seizing patient.
It seemed absurd, but I had no other options.
Sweat dripped from Claude’s blazing body, and my own was stiff from holding the same position.
Clutching at straws, I lifted my eyelids and gently placed my hand over his, still gripping my waist.
As I parted my lips, a soft melody filled the room.
“Sleep well, my dear, to dreamland go. Beneath the starry night sky, may your dreams shine, wrapped in the gentle night breeze…”
As the song reached its midpoint, Claude’s tense body began to relax.
Patting his hand gently, I continued.
“May your smile spread happiness. With my love, I lull you to sleep, and all worries fade. Sleep well, my dear, greet the bright morning…”
As I finished, his heartbeat, felt against my back, stabilized remarkably.
A peaceful, steady breathing followed.
Is he… asleep?
My eyes widened, rolling in disbelief, as his arm fell limply from my waist.
A song worked that well?
I’d been skeptical, thinking medicine was the only answer.
But psychological calm was evidently crucial.
Exhaling in relief, I carefully extricated myself from his embrace.
He was in such a deep sleep, he wouldn’t notice if carried away.
His sweat-soaked hair and clothes bore witness to his ordeal.
I wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and checked his temperature.
It was slightly warm, much cooler than before.
His breathing and heartbeat were near normal.
I adjusted Claude to lie flat, pulling the blanket to his chest.
His disheveled hair didn’t detract from his sculpted, flawless face.
Even sick, handsome people stay flawless.
Admiring him briefly, I slipped out of the bedroom quietly.
“So His Highness has these seizures once a month?”
“Yes, those days put all the servants on high alert. Once a seizure starts, he suffers for three days straight.”
“…Three days?”
Eyes wide, I asked, and Alvin nodded knowingly.
“I was stunned too. You calmed him in just thirty minutes.”
“…”
“The attendants said he didn’t take any medicine. May I ask how you managed it?”
Pausing, I replied, “I sang to him.”
“Sang?”
Alvin tilted his head, baffled.
“Not a drug called ‘song,’ but… actual singing, like on an opera stage?”
“Yes, a lullaby, to be precise.”
“A lullaby? You mean His Highness fell asleep to your lullaby?”
I nodded in lieu of words.
“…How could such a thing…”
Alvin shook his head, incredulous.
“His late mother, Empress Olivia, was a romantic who loved music. After her passing, His Highness banned all music, including opera. He was so averse that servants couldn’t even hum.”
“Not even hum?”
“Yes. After that day, he locked himself in his room, refusing company. He even dismissed his nursemaid, dressing and bathing himself at just sixteen…”
Alvin trailed off, pressing a handkerchief to his eyes.
Clearing his throat, his voice trembled.
“I’m relieved. It seems he’s letting you close…”
Hearing Claude’s past, my heart ached.
How heartbroken must he have been to isolate himself at such a young age?
Then I recalled the tragic deaths of Empress Olivia and Princess Flora.
