“Then are you really sick?”
“I used aura to make my body heat up.”
“But….”
Even if it was just a fever he’d induced, he looked genuinely unwell. He didn’t seem close to death like the physician had said, but it was clear something was bothering him.
“Are you really okay?”
At her worried question, Ricardo looked at Izuli. The moment their eyes met, his parched throat felt like it was burning.
As she’d suspected, he wasn’t actually fine. His aura was returning very slowly, bit by bit—enough to fake a fever, but not enough to contact his subordinates.
It had been clumsy since it was an unfamiliar body, but the aura had successfully enveloped him and raised his temperature. But his relief was short-lived—something was wrong. The longer he maintained the aura, the more his heart ached and the more intense his thirst became.
Thankfully, the physician had found him quickly, so he hadn’t needed to keep the aura active long. But the real problem came after Izuli entered the room. Even with no wind, her faint, sweet scent drifted through the air and tickled his nose.
“I want to drink….”
Something red and sweet. He knew what it was, and thought he must be going mad. Unless he was a vampire from a storybook, there was no reason to crave Izuli’s blood—it was absurd.
The pain lessened a little once everyone left and he let the aura fade, but the burning thirst remained unsated.
“I’m fine. I think it’s just because this is my first time using aura with this body.”
Seeing his lips were dry and cracked, Izuli brought him a glass of water. As he took it with trembling hands, their fingertips brushed briefly—and he felt the pain ease slightly. But it was so brief he dismissed it as his imagination and drank.
He emptied the glass in one go, and she refilled it. After this happened five times, she realized he was lying.
“You’ve drunk five glasses already and you say you’re okay?”
“Now I really am.”
His thirst had lessened just a tiny bit, but he was satisfied with that. It was like pouring a single glass of water into the middle of an endless desert—the dry sand absorbed it, and soon it evaporated without a trace under the harsh sun.
“Can you fill the bathtub with water? I still feel some heat—I think I need to bring it down.”
“Ah, yes, yes! Please wait a moment.”
Izuli rushed to the bathroom and turned on the cold water, then returned.
“Shall I help you?”
He only felt intense thirst and mild pain—moving was no problem, but for some reason, Ricardo nodded without thinking. As Izuli came to support him, his suspicion turned to certainty: the moment they touched, the pain miraculously faded. The thirst remained, but it was better than suffering both agonies at once. He didn’t know why, so he said nothing about it.
Reaching the bathtub, he felt a pang of regret at the brief contact, then swallowed dryly. Getting into the cold water fully clothed helped a little. Leaning against the tub, he looked at Izuli.
“I’ll be fine after a short while—wait outside. I’ll be out soon, and we’ll put our plan into action right away.”
“…Understood.”
Since he kept saying he was okay, Izuli had no choice but to nod. After leaving the bathroom, she rubbed her palms together—the warmth of his burning skin still lingered as if branded there.
—
“Auntie, cheers!”
Melaria pushed a wine glass toward Evelon, who smiled and reached for it. The clear clink of glass echoed as they settled back onto the sofa. Melaria downed her wine in one gulp, sighing with flushed cheeks.
“Auntie, it feels like heaven is helping us lately, doesn’t it?”
She set her glass down and counted off their good fortune on her fingers one by one.
“That fool came back, but now he’ll die the very next day—and it’s not even our fault!”
If he’d died for no reason, they might have been suspected. But with Izuli’s negligence as perfect cover, they had nothing to worry about. As soon as they’d left the room, they’d held hands and jumped for joy, even bringing out their precious expensive wine to celebrate.
“Doesn’t it feel like Leo is destined to be heir?”
Evelon nodded in agreement with every word—then paused abruptly.
“Melaria, did you not understand what I said last time?”
“Pfft—I understood. I just didn’t accept it.”
Thinking she wasn’t drunk enough yet, Melaria refilled her empty glass.
“Let’s drop that topic now—drink up. This is good stuff.”
It really was delicious, being the wine they’d hoarded carefully, so Evelon only shot her a sidelong glance before tilting her glass back.
“Auntie, when the fool dies, we’ll hold a big funeral. Then we’ll announce the cause of death and prove we’re innocent. What do you think?”
“Great idea. Should we put on a proper act for once?”
“Auntie and I are good actors—we’ll definitely fool everyone.”
They cackled, calling it the perfect plan. Glass after glass, they drank without pause, and drunkenness set in quickly. Melaria didn’t miss the chance to bring up the heir topic again.
“So who do you want to make heir, Auntie?”
“Baron Benedict made an offer—his cousin or someone like that… anyway, he asked me to make the boy heir. Seems decent enough.”
“But shouldn’t we pick from distant relatives?”
Baron Benedict was one of their retainers and had collaborated with Evelon for years.
“If we check the family tree, Baron Benedict is probably a distant relative too. Ah—I’ll need to look that up….”
Remembering this, Evelon stood to find the family register. Just then, the door burst open and Janna rushed in.
“D-Dowager!”
“Hm? Nanny? Perfect timing—help me get to the family archive so I can….”
“It’s an emergency!”
Janna cried out, her face pale as paper.
“The M-Marquis has returned to normal!”
A moment of silence fell.
“What?”
Melaria was the first to recover. She’d just been plotting how to persuade Evelon to make Leo heir—now she was filled with rage.
“Why is that fool’s life so stubborn! Is he really alive? Are you sure?”
Following her outburst, Evelon finally accepted reality and flew into a rage, hurling her wine glass.
“Ugh! He’s absolutely useless to my life!”
First the late marquis, then his son—father and son had only brought misfortune to Evelon’s life.
“Auntie, we need to go see him first—drink some tea to get rid of the alcohol smell.”
Though she’d lost a perfect opportunity, Melaria calmed Evelon to score points. Evelon panted heavily before drinking the tea.
“Dowager, it’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean, Nanny?”
Evelon asked weakly, slumping onto the sofa.
“Is there something worse than that fool being alive?”
“I mean, not only has his fever broken—he’s back to normal! He’s not a fool anymore!”
Crash!
The teacup slipped from Evelon’s hand and shattered. Janna’s words hit them like a bomb, leaving them stunned.
“He’s… not a fool anymore?”
“Yes! The physician confirmed it—high fevers can sometimes affect the mind, so the reverse isn’t impossible either….”
“That can’t be. There’s no way… I definitely gave him the medicine….”
“Dowager!”
Janna cut her off in panic. Evelon realized her slip of the tongue and clamped her hand over her mouth. Janna opened the door to check no one was outside, then returned with a sigh of relief.
“It’s impossible….”
“It’s true—I saw it myself.”
Janna had gone to check on them because she knew they’d be celebrating with wine, curious when the fool would finally die. She’d planned to mock Izuli for grieving—but instead of sad sobs, she heard voices full of joy coming from their room.
Peeking through the half-open bedroom door, she saw the physician and several others gathered there. She’d thought they’d all gone mad, but then she heard the physician speak—and froze in place.
“This is truly a miracle! To have returned to normal like this!”
Even then, she’d thought he’d just survived. She’d scowled, thinking his life was annoyingly persistent—but then Izuli, tears glistening in her eyes, took the marquis’s hand and asked:
“Kal. What comes after ten?”
“Eleven.”
At the clear, steady reply, Janna had jumped back in shock.
