Every inch of my body hurts.
She was fairly certain she had collapsed in the clearing just outside the forest — but where was she now?
Riersha groaned, drenched in sweat from a raging fever.
“Nngh…”
A familiar scent drifted from the blankets wrapped around her. Wherever this was, it smelled like her room — which meant it probably was her room.
Thank goodness. But who found me?
She was still gathering her thoughts when a voice rang out.
“Miss Riersha! Doctor — she’s opened her eyes! The young miss is awake!”
“…Again? Good grief…”
Every word she breathed out felt scorching hot against her lips.
Whatever had happened, it was clear she had fallen seriously ill.
Riersha blinked, her vision hazy, and slowly took in her surroundings.
Sona had already rushed off to fetch the physician. Left behind were her brothers, all of them watching her with expressions tight with worry — yet underneath that worry simmered something far more dangerous.
Every single one of them looked as though they were about to disembowel someone.
And then there was—
I’ve never seen Brother Risideon look that angry before.
A heaviness settled in Riersha’s chest. She had frightened them all.
Grandfather told me not to do anything reckless.
She hadn’t anticipated this. She certainly hadn’t anticipated collapsing right in front of Ian Charlotte.
Risideon drew close and crouched beside her, his expression carefully composed into something gentler than the rest.
“Riersha, are you all right? My personal knight has gone to fetch Father — he should be here soon.”
Riersha gave a small nod to show she understood, and Risideon offered her a soft smile before adding, almost pleasantly:
“I think there’s quite a lot we’ll need to hear about. From you.”
“…”
“In great detail.”
Riersha flinched and redirected her gaze to a thoroughly innocent patch of ceiling.
He’s furious.
Far more furious than she had expected.
Just then, salvation arrived in the form of Sona, who swept back into the room with the family physician at her heels. He crossed the threshold and immediately set to assessing Riersha’s condition.
“Miss Riersha, are you experiencing any particular discomfort?”
“I’m not sure… my whole body hurts… and my head too.”
She described her symptoms in a small, subdued voice. Her entire body ached as though she had been thoroughly beaten, so thoroughly that she could barely distinguish one pain from another.
The physician gave a knowing nod.
“Yes, the full-body pain is entirely to be expected. You collapsed because your body could no longer sustain the overuse of your magical capacity.”
“…Pardon?”
“You came very close to something far worse.”
“…”
“The fever has come down to a manageable level, and you are conscious — that is a great relief. But you must know, Miss Riersha… you have been burning with fever for over three days.”
The physician’s relief was genuine, and plainly visible.
Three days. Three days of fever.
Riersha’s eyes went wide.
It had felt like closing her eyes for a moment and opening them again.
But it hadn’t been.
And the cause — overuse of her magical capacity?
Then all those days she had been feeling so exhausted, so worn down…
Had that been because of the ability training sessions with Ian Charlotte?
She was still staring blankly at the physician when Risideon, seated at her side, spoke again. His voice was gentle, careful — aware that he was asking this of someone who had only just opened her eyes.
“Riersha… do you remember anything from before you collapsed?”
“Hmm.”
She knitted her brows and reached back through her memory. The last thing she could clearly recall was…
“…Whuh happened to Mister Ian?”
The image of Ian Charlotte’s face, looking down at her without expression.
That was the last thing she remembered.
And she was only asking about it now!
The moment the question left her lips, a long silence fell over the room.
“…Ian Charlotte?”
After a beat, it was Ricador who broke the silence — his voice low and clipped, grinding out the full name like he was chewing on something unpleasant. The look on his face made clear he was not pleased that this was the first name out of Riersha’s mouth upon waking.
But she couldn’t help it. There was something she needed to confirm.
This was important.
“You’ve barely just woken up, and your first concern is what happened to Ian Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“…”
“So what happened to him?”
Ricador opened and closed his mouth, apparently at a loss for words. Riscal, sitting nearby, let out a slow sigh and answered for him.
“Ian Charlotte was caught breaking into one of the empty manor houses and has been taken into custody. As for why he broke into an unoccupied building in the first place — that, none of us can say.”
Riscal frowned as he said it, clearly baffled by the logic.
But Riersha’s ears had snagged on one thing and one thing only.
An empty manor house.
The dungeon.
Which meant…
She cast her mind back to the words she had whispered to Ian just before she lost consciousness.
“Actually… I probably shouldn’t be saying this. But there’s a prince who’s been staying in the manor next to mine for a little while. Father says he’ll be returning to the Imperial Palace soon, so…”
“…”
“If you asked him for divine power, I think he might grant it. That’s a relief, isn’t it?”
“…I see. How fortunate — to think the Duke’s illness may finally be healed.”
⁂
Arachrene Ducal Castle. The dungeon.
Ian Charlotte sat in chains, his entire body bound.
Not only had he trespassed into the heirs’ domain — evidence of ability use had been discovered at the scene.
Caught in the act, Ian had not spoken a single word in over three days.
“Ian Charlotte, prolonging this will do you no good. You would be wise to tell us the truth — why you did what you did.”
“Whether I speak or not, I die either way, don’t I.”
“That’s not wrong.”
Rosinante inclined his head in agreement and smiled pleasantly.
The chances of Ian Charlotte walking out of this dungeon alive were vanishingly slim.
And even if he somehow survived, the most he could hope for was to be cast out of his family as a broken man.
Something cold and sharp moved behind Rosinante’s eyes.
“Though even if you leave here dead, how you go out is another matter. And who knows — depending on what you say, the young duke may choose to be merciful.”
“…”
“Miss Riersha has just regained consciousness. It would be in your best interest to open your mouth before she gives her testimony.”
Ian broke into a cold sweat.
The reason he had managed to remain in reasonably intact condition up until now was precisely because Riersha had not yet regained consciousness.
When Ian had first been dragged into the dungeon, Pernoa had looked ready to kill him on the spot — but then:
“Keep him alive. There’s still much to hear.”
With those words, Pernoa had left.
It seemed there were many questions surrounding why Ian had broken into the empty manor in the heirs’ domain.
Or perhaps they already know everything, but without direct evidence, they have no choice but to keep me breathing.
Either way, the situation was dire.
Still — the worst had not yet come. That much was something.
Ian exhaled slowly, allowing himself that small measure of relief. Rosinante caught it and narrowed his eyes.
With the air of a man who had grown thoroughly tired of asking the same question for days on end, Rosinante posed it once more.
“What did Miss Riersha say to you that day?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Ha.”
Rosinante stared at him, incredulous. His mind drifted back to what had happened three days ago.
He had been surveilling Riersha with his ability, on Pernoa’s orders, when he had clearly seen it — Riersha leaning close to Ian, whispering something in his ear.
A secret.
Shortly after, Riersha had collapsed without warning, and Ian had launched himself toward the domain where the heirs resided.
It had all unfolded in an instant.
Meanwhile, Ian continued to deflect Rosinante’s questioning with his convenient claim of not remembering — but inwardly, he could not quite suppress the hollow, rueful feeling rising in his chest.
She played me.
She had played him thoroughly.
He had known it was a trap even as he heard her words. He had known, and he had moved anyway — because he could not afford not to.
The thing she had told him was the kind of thing that could unravel over four years of careful work in a single breath.
Riersha’s awakening.
Pernoa’s return.
Arcmund’s poison, soon to be cured.
And then — Isierd Declair.
The moment Ian heard that the prince was staying in the heirs’ domain, he made his decision. He would take the risk.
Even if everything else crumbled to nothing, that prince had to die.
He couldn’t be certain how much of what Riersha had told him was true and how much was fabricated, but he’d had no choice but to act.
One thing was clear: she had been shrewd enough to weave truth and lies together so seamlessly that he couldn’t parse where one ended and the other began.
Ian had thrown his chips onto the slivers of truth buried in her deception.
And in the end, he had been caught before he could so much as confirm a single hair on the prince’s head.
Though perhaps… Arcmund’s poison truly has been cured.
He was only realizing it now.
Ian let out a quiet, self-deprecating smile and finally spoke.
“Miss Riersha is quite extraordinary. Now that she’s awake, perhaps you ought to go offer her your congratulations.”
