004

As the somewhat intimate medication time ended, Sion’s merciless lips finally released her. Before he could even rise, Agate’s suppressed breath burst over her lips.

“Haah…”

Sion quickly wiped his mouth as a thread of saliva, whose owner was uncertain, stretched between them.

Agate’s breathing, having swallowed the medicine without spilling a drop, seemed to regain its rhythm. Perhaps it was his imagination. It was the perfect crime. Now Adollo, who had gone to brew his folk remedy that would only work in rural legends, would return sloshing water everywhere, trying to force it down the poor young lady’s throat.

Afterward, when her fever dropped, his tedious devotion to those herbs would only grow stronger. He’d never know his precious young lady had already swallowed an untested, “dangerous” medicine. Watching his satisfied demeanor would be quite amusing.

Sion, who always finished things perfectly, habitually swept his gaze over Agate’s face. His typically smooth gaze suddenly caught on the edge of her lips and wrinkled with displeasure.

Her lips were moist. More precisely, they had become moist.

Whether from water or saliva, the perfectly sealed medication administration had apparently been quite passionate. Her broom-like hair, desert-dry skin, and chapped lips that matched so well now had one glossy exception—her lips were smooth as if moisturizer had been applied.

“Will he notice this…”

While this imperfection was glaringly obvious to Sion with his detective-like keen eye, he momentarily wondered if Adollo, with his aging eyes and monocle, would find this minor change suspicious.

About three seconds passed. Sion’s expression softened as usual after organizing his thoughts.

The conclusion: no problem.

Even if Adollo noticed something suspicious, their thought processes were too different for him to reach Sion’s shocking idea. The notion that a mere butler would violate the lady’s lips was a concept that “real” butler Adollo could only imagine in his next life.

While Sion was reassured and carefully wiping Agate’s arm with a wet cloth, Adollo burst through the door without knocking. Though Sion had already noticed his approaching footsteps, he pretended to be startled.

“Ah, you’re here. The young lady was sweating profusely, so I was wiping her down with a wet cloth.”

As Sion stepped back with a thin smile, Adollo examined him once, then Agate, with half-opened eyes. In his hands, as promised, was a silver tray bearing the herbal infusion and a spoon.

Seeing nothing unusual, Adollo placed the tray on the bedside table where the Reminofen had been, without suspicion. Apparently, the unfamiliar pill had completely vanished from his mind in the presence of the groaning young lady.

“Thank you for your help. You may go now.”

“Would you like assistance giving her the medicine? The young lady seems unable to control her body.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Of course, Adollo flatly refused Sion’s polite offer, as expected.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave then.”

Sion pushed up his frameless glasses with satisfaction, casually stuffed the torn medicine packet into his jacket pocket, and turned away without hesitation.

* * *

The next day, when morning came and Sion returned to the mansion, the situation unfolded exactly as he had predicted, almost boringly so. Agate’s fever had been extinguished overnight by Reminofen’s power, and Adollo was busy praising the effects of his herbal infusion with contentment.

“Yes, her fever has disappeared completely. I don’t know what herbs you used, but…”

Barten, who had diligently rushed back with his medical bag as soon as morning arrived, confirmed Agate’s condition had returned to normal after employing every diagnostic tool at his disposal—thermometer, wooden stethoscope, and more. He tilted his head in puzzlement for quite some time.

As someone practicing modern medicine, he seemed somewhat disgruntled that an herbal infusion of unclear origin had supposedly proven so effective.

“Well… this is fortunate indeed. The young lady is so frail that prolonged high fever could have become dangerous.”

Everyone nodded in agreement with Barten’s words.

Everyone except Agate, the subject of the midnight commotion. The woman who had crossed the line between life and death with her body burning like a fire pit the previous night was now staring ahead with unfocused, hazy eyes, just as always.

‘She clearly has no memory of last night. No idea who she owes her life to.’

Sion glanced at Agate, whose consciousness seemed questionable, and inwardly gloated. Anyone seeing her for the first time would undoubtedly consider her a patient. How could that appearance possibly belong to someone who had just been declared recovered by her physician?

Even a doll’s glass eyes would seem more lively than her hazel irises. From her face, which seemed to have aged a decade overnight, to her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat—it would be difficult to find anything normal about her current appearance.

Kanna was hurriedly wiping Agate’s forehead and arms with a wet cloth, as she had sweated profusely during her night of fever, but it was insufficient to create a dramatic improvement.

“She’s sweated so much, she needs a bath. Butler, I’ll prepare the bath, so please bring the young lady to the bathroom when you’re ready.”

While Barten and Adollo were deeply engaged in discussing Agate’s future examination plans, Kanna approached and asked Sion, whose mind had briefly wandered.

“How could I refuse? I’ll escort her.”

Sion’s ready agreement came with an unfailing smile. Kanna’s cheeks flushed red, and unable to meet his eyes, she quickly darted off to prepare the bath.

“Miss? If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll escort you to the bathroom. Kanna has gone to prepare your bath.”

Adollo and Barten were still earnestly discussing Agate’s health, putting their heads together to prevent unexpected fevers. Now was the opportunity, with those overzealous elders distracted.

Sion would play his best card, the one with the highest win rate—his merciless good looks.

‘Agate Irone, this won’t do. Let me erase your heartbreak and sorrow, widow or not.’

In the span of a day, Sion had made two decisions.

First, he admitted he had completely misjudged this villa. Treasures be damned—this grand noble’s villa had no resources to serve as his precious slush fund, no matter how hard he looked.

The standard move would be to quickly establish a backup plan. Flee in the night? No, leaving Ponten would only happen when smuggling himself abroad. Carelessly changing locations and accidentally leaving evidence could result in a nationwide chase with officers—something he would decline even on his deathbed.

From what he had observed over the past ten or so days, Ponten, especially the Irone villa, was undoubtedly an optimal hiding place, cut off from the outside world. In this place where the bustling town center could be toured in 30 minutes, Dr. Barten was practically the only visitor to the ducal villa.

Beyond the location, the villa’s owner was extremely reclusive and avoided external interactions. Sion was confident he could stay here for a year without being discovered.

So what method could he use to accumulate funds for settling abroad while remaining in Ponten? Though highly unappealing to someone who valued his time, he could faithfully and honestly save his substantial salary.

But he had another option that could generate an incomparably larger sum in less time.

Sion’s second decision from the previous night: seduce Lady Agate Irone. If successful, this would be the easiest and fastest way to pull in a large sum.

Of course, he wasn’t certain whether this log of a woman could even be targeted, and he found the idea quite distasteful. But he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

If by some chance she truly opened her heart to Sion and fell head over heels for him, it would be a jackpot in the countryside. By sweet-talking her into drawing substantial funds from the inexhaustible spring that was the Irone main house, this plan would reach perfect completion.

It wouldn’t be entirely disadvantageous for the lady either. If she developed feelings for him, it would prove her seemingly incurable mental illness was healing—a fair price to pay.

Swaying a woman’s heart wasn’t difficult. In fact, women had fallen for him countless times without him even trying, to the point of annoyance. If someone like him deliberately treated her well, surely even a woman as hard as stone would have a chance of falling.