Chapter 2.2

“It seems to be apoplexy.”  

The doctor, who had been urgently summoned, declared the diagnosis after examining Emma thoroughly.  

“Apoplexy? What is that?”  

“Well… It’s a condition where sudden paralysis affects parts of the patient’s body. It’s not contagious, but it’s often described as striking like lightning.”  

“Paralysis?”  

“Yes, meaning she may lose the ability to use certain parts of her body. We’ll know more once she wakes up, but repeated episodes like this could be fatal.”  

“That’s… impossible…”  

Yvonne’s face turned pale as she murmured in disbelief. She looked at the doctor, her eyes pleading.  

“No, doctor. You have to save her. Please. Emma is someone I can’t live without.”

“I wish I could do more, but the only treatment is consistent medication… The problem is that the medicine is difficult to obtain. The ingredients are incredibly rare, and without special connections, it’s nearly impossible.”  

“That’s… unfortunate…”  

“Still, you might want to ask Monsieur Debroge when he returns, just in case.” 

Leaving those words behind, the doctor departed. Emma remained unconscious for quite some time.  

Yvonne stayed by her side for days, nursing her with utmost care. Perhaps due to her devotion, Emma finally woke up. However, as the doctor had warned, she could no longer use her left leg.  

Yvonne relayed some of what the doctor had said to Emma, but deliberately withheld the part about the possibility of death. She feared that Emma’s anxiety might hasten her demise.  

“I see.”  

Emma, who had initially been shocked by her inability to use her left leg, soon grew calm.  

“Yvonne.”  

“Yes, Emma?”  

“There’s no need to push yourself. This isn’t your fault… It must simply be my fate.”  

Her composure only deepened Yvonne’s guilt.  

When Emma asked, “Do you understand?” Yvonne nodded as though she did, pretending not to feel any guilt.  

But deep inside, she made a firm resolve. She would find the medicine and cure Emma, no matter what. After all, it was entirely her fault that Emma had ended up this way.  

From then on, Yvonne made every effort to procure the medicine, but all her attempts were in vain.  

The medicine’s ingredients were cultivated in a monastery and were so rare that, as the doctor had said, without special connections, it was impossible to obtain.  

“I’ll have to ask Monsieur Debroge.”  

She doubted Marceau would be able to do much, but he was still a nobleman. His position would surely make things easier than her own.  

If he couldn’t get the medicine, there would be nothing she could do, but giving up without even trying would be foolish.  

And so, Yvonne waited eagerly for Marceau’s return.  

Marceau came back two weeks later.  

As someone who was essentially living off his generosity, Yvonne hesitated to immediately ask him for a favor after his long journey.  

But time was of the essence, and her hesitation was brief. Yvonne told Marceau about Emma’s condition and asked if he could obtain the medicine.  

Fortunately, he didn’t seem displeased. In fact, he even gave her a positive response.  

“Medicine for apoplexy… I can get it.”  

“Really?”  

“Yes. Clemen died of apoplexy. She passed before the medicine was completed… I had been funding the monastery’s research for her sake, but she never got to use the finished product.”  

“Oh…”  

Yvonne had heard from Louise that Clemen had died of illness, but that was all she knew. She never imagined it had been due to apoplexy.  

Flustered, Yvonne hastily apologized.  

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”  

“There’s no need for you to apologize. Because of that, I can now get the medicine for you.”  

“…”  

“I’ve been supporting the monastery for years, so they’ll likely grant my request without hesitation.”  

“Then…!”  

Just as Yvonne’s face brightened with hope, Marceau interrupted her.  

“However, the ingredients are so rare that it would be difficult to supply them for a long time. If you, my niece, were the one afflicted, it’d be a different story. But Emma, the woman who came with you, is a stranger to me.”  

“…”  

“I’ve provided you with conveniences thus far… but supplying the medicine indefinitely is out of the question.”  

“If it’s a matter of cost, I can pay for it. Please…!”  

“This isn’t about money. There are noblemen willing to pay a gold talent for the medicine if it’s available.”  

Yvonne froze. A gold talent? That was twenty-five times the value of the single gold mina she had.  

She had thought, naively, that the coins the third son of the Conrad Family had tossed her would be enough to cover the cost.  

Realizing how far short she was, Yvonne felt a wave of panic.  

“T-Then… if it’s not money, what must I do to obtain it? What can I do…?”  

“What must you do? Why would you go to such lengths for that woman?”  

“Emma is like family to me. I’d do anything for her.”  

“Anything?”  

“Yes, anything.”  

Yvonne’s voice carried a determined resolve. She wasn’t bluffing. Ever since she and Emma had endured beatings and been cast out of Rivette, she had vowed to do whatever it took for Emma’s sake.  

Marceau stroked his chin thoughtfully before speaking.  

“You must have heard about Jeanne from Louise.”  

“Huh? Yes.”  

The sudden shift in topic puzzled Yvonne, but she listened intently.  

“How much do you know about Jeanne?”  

“…Only that she ran away with a tutor.”  

“Did you know she had a marriage prospect?”  

“I didn’t. I only heard that she was preparing for marriage because she was of age…”  

“It wasn’t officially announced, but Jeanne’s marriage was practically decided. She was to marry Earl Marlon.”  

“Earl Marlon…?”  

“One of the five families with control over the Rido Canal’s passage rights. After the Arthus family, they hold the most influence.”  

Yvonne vaguely recalled hearing something about this from Louise. The canal was nearby, and the families that operated it were said to be incredibly wealthy and powerful.  

“The Earl is forty years old, but he’s been widowed for some time and has only one daughter of marriageable age. He promised to give Jeanne anything she wanted if she could bear him a son to inherit his title.”  

“F-Forty years old?”  

And he already had a grown daughter?  

Yvonne’s eyes widened in disbelief. Louise had called Diego, the “bastard” tutor, despicable for being thirty-three. But this man was over forty and a widower with children. 

“Did Miss Jeanne know about this?”  

“Of course. She had to know the man she was marrying. They even went on a few dates.”  

“…”  

“Ungrateful wretch. Smiling so sweetly in front of me while scheming behind my back. I raised her out of respect for her mother… She was nothing like Clemen.”  

Marceau lit a cigar, seemingly to calm himself. As he puffed on it, the room quickly filled with smoke.  

Even as Yvonne coughed repeatedly, Marceau continued smoking, indifferent to her discomfort.  

“Clemen devoted her entire life to me. Even when she was ill, she thought only of me. And why wouldn’t she? What man would marry a woman with another man’s child? If it weren’t for me, she’d have raised Jeanne alone.”  

Neither Marceau nor Clemen had blue eyes, yet Jeanne did. Yvonne now realized that Jeanne must have inherited them from her biological father.  

Looking back at Jeanne’s portrait, Yvonne finally understood the question that had lingered in her mind.  

“Still, Clemen… she was lovely. Jeanne, too, was quite tolerable, given that she resembled Clemen.”  

“…”  

“But those damned blue eyes… Every time I saw them, I was reminded of Clemen’s first love. Still, I tried to be a father to her. I even found her a suitable match!”  

“…”  

“And that’s not all. I gave her my name—Debroge! What commoner woman could ever dream of acting like a noble? And yet, she ran away! With a penniless, aging tutor!”  

Unable to contain his anger, Marceau slammed the table.  

Bang!  

Yvonne flinched, startled by the loud sound, her shoulders trembling. She lowered her gaze, holding her breath.  

“That woman ran away and then hastily made up a story about being sick to buy time. Do you know what Earl Marlon said?”  

“I’m not sure…”  

“He said, ‘Let’s pretend none of this ever happened.’ He doubted whether a sick woman could even bear an heir properly!”  

“…”  

“Because of her, I couldn’t sell the spices I had purchased in bulk to trade through the canal! Do you know how much that is worth? A staggering 20,000 gold talents!”  

“Forgive me, Monsieur, but couldn’t the spices be sold later? Spices don’t spoil…”  

“You’re right, spices don’t spoil easily. The problem is that I signed a contract stating I would deliver them within the next month.”  

“A contract?”  

“Yes, a contract. If I fail to deliver the spices within two months, I’ll have to pay three times the penalty stipulated in the agreement. I trusted the canal and signed it, thinking a month would be more than enough.”  

“…”  

“But Jeanne, that woman, ran away, and everything went wrong! Do you think it makes sense that I still haven’t received permission to ship, even though I need to set sail by next week?”  

Yvonne felt she understood why Jeanne had fled, even though it wasn’t the time to voice such thoughts in front of an enraged Marceau.  

Diego, the man Jeanne had run away with, was undoubtedly the “bastard” Louise had mentioned. Compared to Jeanne, he was certainly an older tutor, as Marceau had said.  

But Earl Marlon, the man Diego was being compared to, was even worse. Despite having a daughter of marriageable age, he had wanted to marry Jeanne…  

Marceau didn’t seem to be in his right mind either. Even if Jeanne wasn’t his blood daughter, how could he call Earl Marlon a suitable match? It was incomprehensible.