Claude raised an eyebrow at her unexpected response.
Seizing the moment, Aselin drove her point home.
“I’ve heard His Majesty is urging Your Highness to marry. I’ll be your wife in name, for appearances. And, of course, I’ll risk my life to cure your illness.”
“…”
“Just for one year, keep me as your wife until I can restore the Rondinella family’s former glory with my formulations.”
And until I complete my revenge.
Aselin kept her true intentions hidden.
In the dark forest, under the moonlight, Claude’s red eyes bored into her relentlessly.
Narrowing his eyes, he strode forward with long steps.
As he approached, his black hair danced chaotically.
When he stopped right in front of her, Claude grabbed her chin roughly.
“You’ve succeeded in piquing my interest. But you’ll have to prove your worth yourself.”
I squinted against the harsh sunlight and opened my eyes.
Looking at my mud-caked hands, it seemed I’d collapsed into bed the moment I returned to the manor.
[“You have one week. Make the cure and come find me.”]
Prince Claude had pressed the Lazeraan mana herb into my hand, speaking in a low voice.
Then he turned, leading his pack of wolves, and vanished.
His vivid red eyes, devoid of any emotion, reminded me of a predator.
Terrifyingly chilling, yet when he crooked his lips into a smirk, he exuded a decadent, devilish charm.
Not just handsome—he seemed to know exactly how to captivate a woman.
Recalling my first encounter with Prince Claude last night, my heart suddenly raced.
I shook my head vigorously, pushing him out of my mind, and got out of bed.
Opening the bag on my desk, I took out the Lazeraan mana herb.
Five blue petals, a green stem, and leaves—all intact, thankfully.
The roots would’ve been ideal, but the petals are the key.
Smiling contentedly, I carefully wrapped the herb in a white handkerchief.
With this, I could make a cure for mana poisoning and present it to Prince Claude, proving my worth.
Then he’d agree to the contract marriage.
And I’d be free from trash like Alex!
This is going smoother than I expected.
Grinning, I pushed up the corners of my mouth.
After washing up refreshed, I headed straight to the study.
Upon arriving, I tucked the wrapped Lazeraan into the bottom drawer.
Then I filled a large bucket with water, placed it on the brazier, and dumped in a pile of discarded herbs.
Stirring with a long ladle, white steam rose as the water began to boil.
It’s about time for him to show up.
Glancing at the grandfather clock, I wasn’t surprised when Pierre burst through the door.
His nose was red, and he staggered as if he’d just crawled out of a liquor barrel.
“You didn’t make any medicine yesterday and left the study empty—where the hell were you gallivanting?”
As he started his usual nagging, I dug a finger into my ear.
Then I plopped a round ointment jar in front of him.
I’d prepared it for when Pierre got annoying.
“This’ll help with the itching.”
“Is this for that… bug thing you mentioned? The skin disease?”
“Yes.”
At my answer, Pierre’s angry eyes softened.
Watching him scratch his face and arms, I smirked inwardly.
Pierre’s skin condition wasn’t scabies—just an allergy.
He loved fermented liquor, but the amomum tree sap in it was the culprit.
Let’s see how much itching you can handle.
As long as he kept drinking that liquor, he’d never be cured.
I glanced at his hand, scratched raw and bleeding, and pretended to focus on making medicine.
“But is this ointment trustworthy? You’ve been acting like a lunatic lately.”
Pierre sniffed the jar, his tone dripping with disdain and mistrust.
“If you don’t trust it, give it back.”
I set down the ladle and reached to snatch the jar.
Panicking, Pierre quickly hid it behind his back.
As he slathered it on his hand, his eyes widened.
“Wow… what’s this? It’s so cooling!”
It’s loaded with mint. It’ll feel good—for a while.
I smirked, tossing some weeds into the pot and stirring vigorously.
“What’s that? Something good?”
With the itching eased, Pierre eyed the simmering herb water curiously.
Can’t even tell weeds from herbs? Just throw anything in boiling water, and it’s “good.”
I chuckled and dangled some bait.
“Interesting, right? It’s called a mishmash potion—perfect for hangovers. Look closely, and you’ll see a slight red tint.”
“Hangovers? My stomach’s been off lately, and liquor hasn’t been sitting well. This is perfect.”
As Pierre, intrigued, leaned over the brazier, I grabbed a handful of prepared herb powder and tossed it into the boiling water.
Boom!
“Ugh, cough!*”
The potion erupted, and acrid smoke hit Pierre’s face directly.
Covering my mouth and nose with my apron, I feigned concern.
“Are you okay, brother? Oh no, I must’ve added the wrong herb. This one’s highly toxic.”
“You idiot! Is your head full of dung to make such a mistake?!”
Pierre flailed, tears and snot streaming.
I flung open the window and casually remarked, “It’s so toxic, the smoke will linger for a while… Where are you going, brother?”
Unable to find the door, Pierre spun in circles like a frantic puppy.
He couldn’t even open his stinging eyes, flailing his hands as I gently nudged him toward the door.
“Cold water will help your eyes. I’ll clean up here, so go take care of yourself. Your health is important.”
“Damn it, it’s an important day, and now this bad luck!”
Cursing as he stumbled out, Pierre was steadied by maids in the corridor.
I glared at his back, shut the door, and turned to the window.
After some time, I saw Pierre, recovered, boarding a carriage to go play betting chess.
Since he values his precious body, he won’t come near the study until the “toxins” are gone.
Now I can work in peace.
I half-closed the window.
Spreading a clean cloth on the sill, I secured it with small stones to keep it from blowing away.
I placed the Lazeraan and pre-washed ingredients on it.
They’d need to dry for two full days before being simmered slowly with other herbs.
This process would harmonize their conflicting properties to maximize efficacy.
I sorted the remaining herbs into baskets, tidied up, and headed to the herb garden.
Warm sunlight bathed the garden, where my herbs grew strong and healthy.
I carefully harvested mature plants, ensuring their roots remained intact.
Immersed in gathering, my basket gradually filled with robust herbs.
By the time it was brimming, I felt satisfied, as if I’d eaten a hearty meal.
Wiping sweat from my brow, I stood up.
But I noticed yellowing leaves scattered throughout the garden.
I’ve been neglecting them lately.
“Sorry, little ones.”
I hurried to the gardener for quality fertilizer and began spreading it meticulously.
“Miss!”
Through the garden trees, I saw Dana running toward me.
