“I’ve finally found it.”

Though damaged by unidentifiable stains, it seemed to be what she’d been looking for.

“Truly commendable.”

To her son struggling to breathe, to her son suffering in agony—that pathetic praise was all she offered.

Chartia couldn’t understand this bizarre situation at all. Could that woman not see what was happening right now? Or did she simply not care? What on earth…

Only after checking the rest of the parchment and tucking it into her inner pocket did the Grand Duchess approach her son.

“Does it hurt terribly?”

Her questioning voice was quite affectionate. She gently wiped Julian’s sweat-drenched forehead with the back of her hand.

“I’m, fine.”

He barely managed to answer through his gasping.

“A doctor won’t be able to treat this, so bear with it a little longer. I’ve finally found a quite capable mage. They should arrive tomorrow.”

“…”

Now seemingly unable to manage even a single word, he made a metallic sound and nodded faintly. Soon his eyes, contorted in pain, closed. Chartia, holding his slumping body, gritted her teeth.

Bear with it a little longer since she’d found a mage!

At those words that didn’t even resemble proper comfort, she felt dizzy. Because having called for a mage to treat him in advance meant she’d known this would happen.

She’d hoped it wasn’t true. She’d just wanted it to be her own misunderstanding. She’d hoped the Grand Duchess’s calm demeanor was simply her temperament, just that reason. 

But if she’d known everything and still dumped this dangerous task on Julian, that was truly… wasn’t that too much?

“…Do you mean you knew this would happen?”

“Not certainty, but to some extent.”

When she acknowledged it without excuses, Chartia grew even angrier. The emotions buried under shock bubbled up furiously. Her face burned bright red and her body trembled.

“How, how could you do this? He’s still your child!”

Even her own parents from her past life, whom she’d barely met, had neglected her but never driven her into danger.

She knew the relationship between Julian and the Grand Duchess wasn’t close, that his deficiency originated from the Grand Duchess. But she absolutely couldn’t tolerate this unjust treatment.

Yet Gloria remained composed even before the sharp reproach.

“What presumptuous resentment. I’ve never forced anything on this child. Swearing loyalty to me, following even orders like this—all of it was that child’s choice.”

“You know the reason!”

“…”

“Not because he wants to serve you, respects you, or any such reason—but because you’re his mother! Just to receive one glance from you…!”

A sharp scream rang through the empty space.

Behind her tightly shut eyelids, that back that had looked so pitiful rose to mind. The man who’d said children want to be loved, who’d smiled bitterly while saying so. The foolish man who doubted his own worth and believed he’d never be loved.

The more she recalled, the more unbearable his wounds felt. Barely composing herself as her throat tightened, Chartia continued with difficulty.

“…He’s your child. I’m not asking you to love this person. That’s not something you can request or demand. Just if you think of him as even slightly special… please treat him as your child, not as some useful tool.”

It was a statement that crossed the line enough for a mere fake fiancée to make. But Chartia didn’t regret it. She didn’t avoid that piercing blue gaze descending on her either.

She’d braced herself for mockery or dismissal. But Gloria merely smiled gently.

“You’re greatly mistaken. It’s not that I don’t love this child.”

“…”

“Love simply isn’t that important to me. Not everyone can have the same hierarchy of values, can they?”

‘Ah.’

Chartia bit her lip instead of sighing. In the place where excitement, anger, and sorrow had vanished, only futility rushed in.

What lay between mother and son was a fundamental “difference” that could never be changed. 

So this person would never be able to give Julian what he wanted for his entire life. That cruel certainty struck her.

But the existence held in her arms was too precious to acknowledge and give up on. Though she knew it was futile, she knocked on the door once more.

“I’m not asking for much… Just, couldn’t you cherish him a little more? If you’d just care a little more…”

“That’s why I brought you along too.”

“…Pardon?”

“You can heal him, can’t you?”

At the gentle voice, she stupidly lifted her head.

[Did you think I recommended this trip to you with some purpose in mind?]

On the first day, she’d asked that. And Chartia belatedly realized she’d never denied it.

Assigning Julian to the adjacent room, keeping her with him through that strange errand, even her following him now and being part of this entire situation—it had all been for this moment.

“Such a sinful child. I leave it to your choice.”

“…”

“I hope you can protect your worth well.”

An unfamiliarly warm hand gently stroked Chartia’s disheveled hair.

“When that child wakes, tell him I went back first.”

Leaving those words, Gloria turned decisively. Her straight steps moved forward without stopping or looking back, and soon disappeared.

Left behind alone, Chartia embraced the large body. Tears she couldn’t help flowed down, dripping onto him. She couldn’t bear how pitiful and heartbreaking he was.

She could only barely hope that the man who’d lost consciousness in pain hadn’t heard those cruel words or seen that retreating back.

‘This isn’t the time to cry.’

Chartia roughly wiped her tear-filled eyes. Still unstable breathing, stiffened cheeks and jaw—she quietly traced them with her eyes before finally reaching her hand toward him.

‘She leaves it to my choice.’

There had been no choice from the start. From the moment she realized she loved him—no, from that lakeside where she’d faced him—her choice had only ever been Julian, only him.

Her right hand covered Julian’s eyes. She knew instinctively. She needed to use the formula for purifying black magic.

Chartia slowly poured power beneath her hand. She felt her heart contract and relax intensely. Her pounding heartbeat accelerated uncontrollably. 

Terrible pain struck as though glass shards were mixed in her blood, tearing all her blood vessels and crushing her muscles. 

Her hands trembled at the overwhelming sensations, but still she didn’t stop.

She suppressed her rising breath and swallowed the blood that surged up. While still whispering repeatedly by his ear, though he must still be in pain.

“Please don’t hurt.”

May he erase all those terrible, absurd words and remember only this.

“You are the most important person in the world to me. Someone truly precious. The one I want to see happiest above all else.”

Not an existence pushed aside for lacking worth—you’re a truly remarkable existence.

“Just remember that you’re so loved.”

Though he wouldn’t remember this moment. Though she knew her words couldn’t be even a bit of salvation for him, Chartia finished speaking to the end.

…Still, I hope your pain lessens, my beloved protagonist.

* * *

She’d prided herself on being sufficiently immune to pain, but the agony like organs twisting and limbs tearing wasn’t at a bearable level. 

Eventually her lips, having swallowed screams, were ragged like a rag. But even while shedding physiological tears, Chartia never removed her hand from Julian.

After quite a long time passed, only when the darkness covering him scattered and vanished did she finally withdraw her hand. She barely supported her collapsing body with her arms.

‘Pull yourself together.’

This wasn’t the time to collapse. But her body had reached its limit—black stains had spread not just on her palms and arms but on her legs too. It looked exactly like rotting flesh.

Though the horrific state should have frightened her, Chartia paid no mind and checked his condition. His breathing had noticeably stabilized and his complexion had improved considerably.

Only then did relief surge, but she couldn’t relax yet.

‘I need to move.’

Though she’d resolved the curse covering him, he wasn’t completely recovered yet. There might be internal injuries, so she needed to call a doctor.

Chartia covered his chest with her shawl and staggered to her feet.

“I’ll call, a doctor… Just, wait a little.”

Chartia climbed the eternal-seeming stairs, barely supporting herself against the wall. Relying on the dangling lamp, she barely reached the surface. When she pushed open the heavy iron door, red hair wavered like a heat haze in her dizzy vision.

“…Rosé?”

She must have rushed out—like Chartia, she was in indoor clothes. Rosenia opened her mouth in apparent shock at her wretched state.

“What on earth…!”

Separate from the urgent situation, it was such timely timing. This must be the flow of the story after all. Chartia thought vaguely.

Wasn’t the role of coming to rescue Julian magnificently originally Rosé’s? Above all, the only one who could comfort him with his heart torn apart was Rosé standing before her.

Without deprivation or despair, with only relief, she took a step toward her.

“Rosé, this will be, confusing but… hah, could you help, the Young Grand Duke?”

“Why is the Young Grand Duke…”

“It’s hard to, explain right now but… there was, an accident… ugh! He got, injured… I can’t, do healing magic… so please.”

As the story continued, the agitation that had risen on Rosé‘s face calmly subsided and even contorted viciously.

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“…Huh?”

The questioning voice was somehow terribly cold. Flustered, Chartia finally looked at Rosenia properly. She was glaring at Chartia with eyes mixed with contempt and hatred.

“You really are… the worst.”

The assessment spat out like chewing rolled miserably on the floor. Her clenched jaw and tightly gripped fists fully reflected her fury.

At the unexpected reaction, her body reflexively stiffened. Had asking for help so naturally been a mistake? 

She’d arbitrarily judged that Rosenia would naturally accept since she’d grown quite close to Julian recently.

Being too desperate to see the other person had been her error. 

Looking back, asking abruptly without explaining the situation or making her clean up after her sister were both things that could reasonably anger her.

After opening and closing her mouth several times, Chartia finally bowed her head.

“…Sorry. I didn’t mean to, bother you… I’ll call a doctor.”

“No. I’ll go check. Sister, don’t worry about it and sleep.”

“…”

“Don’t wander around looking like that.”

Rosenia spoke coldly while scanning her wretched state up and down. There was no time to add more words. Rosé, brushing past her shoulder, walked into the observatory.

Chartia, discovering the lamp she hadn’t managed to hand over, hesitantly followed Rosé. But the iron door slammed shut in front of her.

Chartia raised her hand toward the doorknob but hastily covered her mouth.

“Kugh!”

A lump of blood poured onto her palm. Hot, slick blood dripped down between the lines of her palm. Helplessly, she just curled her dirtied hand closed.

‘…I must apologize properly next time.’

Though she didn’t know if the very angry Rosé would accept her apology, if she’d made her suffer during today and the past time, she should properly apologize.

Chartia barely dragged her body, now heavier than before, back to her room. When she closed the door, all tension finally released and she collapsed forward as though she’d been waiting.

She’d reached her limit.

“Hnngh!”

She curled up her body that trembled like having a seizure. It was terribly cold, exactly like being submerged in ice water. The clothes clinging from cold sweat worsened the chill even more.

She needed to change clothes. Like gravity pulling her body to the floor had become dozens of times stronger, she couldn’t even lift her head.

She might really die like this.

Through her blurred vision, she saw the stains on her body spreading wider and wider. 

Perhaps she’d turn pitch black into ash like this and even her traces would disappear. Thinking such things blankly, Chartia soon closed her eyes.

‘I wonder if Julian got better…’

Even in that moment as consciousness faded, only that worried her.