Aaron’s expression twisted grotesquely.

It was absurd enough that she had a raging fever from a minor flesh wound, but now he had to nurse her too?

What nonsense.

He couldn’t understand how someone so alert to enemy movements on the battlefield could be so clueless in everyday situations.

It was unfathomable when Rombon, who couldn’t read the atmosphere and just blurted out whatever came to mind, would ever learn to be proper.

The suggestion wasn’t even worth considering.

Aaron snorted.

“Keep acting up and I might leave you out of the next expedition. Your mother at home would be delighted not to worry about her son. Go live in your hometown and farm.”

“Live with my mother? Good grief!”

“Take this opportunity to get married.”

“As if that’s up to me!”

Didn’t he get beaten by his mother every time he went home without bringing a pretty girl?

Seeing him shudder, Aaron guessed he was thinking about his mother.

Aaron barely glanced at the grumbling Rombon.

Provoked, Rombon passionately emphasized his usefulness.

“You shouldn’t deprive me of opportunities to demonstrate my valor. You know how loyal I am to Tudra. Despite appearances, I can easily do the work of five ordinary knights. Imagine not having such a capable deputy commander. Wouldn’t that be too great a loss?”

“Do your job before I change my mind.”

“Understood.”

So fickle.

Rombon responded immediately, backing away with a sly smile.

“But please apply the wet cloth yourself. It’s incredibly effective for reducing fever.”

Having said his piece, Rombon slowly turned his large body while muttering.

“I’d do it if I could. But she was once a saint, and if I touched her incorrectly and got cursed, that would be terrible.”

Aaron understood the concern, but felt equally uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because she was a saint or anything like that. If she had the power to curse, she wouldn’t be suffering from such a trivial ailment.

Though she was going to be his wife, he had no affection for her, making it awkward to share the same space.

It made him more nervous than planning strategies or encouraging his knights.

Aaron rubbed the sword hilt with his thumb and remained motionless for a while.

The energy emanating from his robust physique was tinged with anguish, freezing the surrounding air.

The knights, not daring to look directly at Aaron’s intimidating face, tactfully went about their duties.

How long had he been standing there?

Rombon returned with a tray containing medicine and wet cloths.

Even the usually smooth-talking Rombon chose his words carefully, noting Aaron’s deep contemplation.

“If it’s too uncomfortable, should I go instead?”

“No.”

Rombon, having bravely offered to sacrifice himself, studied Aaron’s expression.

Would a superior who didn’t know how to express affection properly care tenderly for his future wife?

Predictably, he’d probably just toss her some medicine and neglect her.

Given his cold-hearted nature, Rombon actually pitied Lucilia. Just earlier, Aaron hadn’t cared whether she had a fever or not.

Rombon began to admonish Aaron, who would clearly fail to fulfill his duties as a husband.

“If her health deteriorates, it will cause problems with our journey. Since the King has approved this marriage, shouldn’t you at least pretend to be pleased? Ignoring her will only lead to more headaches if issues arise.”

“When did I say I would ignore her?”

“What?”

Aaron extended his hand to the dumbfounded Rombon. He casually took the tray and nodded.

Get lost.

Understanding immediately, Rombon waved away the knights lingering nearby.

“You get lost too.”

“Don’t be like that to me as well.”

“You’re the most annoying. I want to be alone, so go.”

Aaron retorted curtly, his gaze fixed on Lucilia’s tent.

It was the first time his heartless superior had looked so pitiful.

Rombon had to leave without even offering words of encouragement.

Aaron continued staring at the tent.

“I can’t let her die like this, so someone has to take care of it.”

The fingers holding the tray turned white.

The world often presented inexplicable situations.

This was one of them.

Though the dawn air was bitterly cold, heat rose from his body. She was the one who was sick, yet his own body felt hot.

It must be embarrassment at having to care for a woman for the first time.

Cursing irritably, Aaron reluctantly stepped forward.

Folding his tall frame almost in half, he pulled the entrance flap aside.

Perhaps due to his heightened awareness, he had the illusion that even the air inside the tent was warm. Seeing his breath spread, he cursed himself as “crazy” once more.

He waved his hand to disperse the air and squeezed himself inside.

“I’ve brought medicine.”

He spoke words she couldn’t understand to encourage his own nervous self.

She wouldn’t respond anyway, so act naturally. You’re doing fine.

As expected, there was no notable reaction from her.

When he first examined the wound, he hadn’t been particularly moved, but now it felt different.

He needed to look carefully and apply the medicine directly. He also had to administer the fever reducer, and if necessary, might even have to wipe her body with a wet cloth.

“To think I have to do this again.”

He sighed at the thought of having to lift her skirt once more.

If she were a man, he could simply tear the clothes for easier access to the wound, but reality was reality.

His hand hesitated uncharacteristically before finally grasping the dirt-stained hem of her dress.

Since he had to treat her anyway, he boldly lifted it up.

As soon as her pale calf was exposed, Aaron averted his gaze to the corner of the tent.

He felt irritated by his inability to control his tense, pounding heart.

He had seen countless injured soldiers and personally handled horrifically mutilated casualties. Someone like him shouldn’t be trembling over such a minor wound.

Even to himself, it seemed he couldn’t maintain composure in front of a woman.

Precarious breaths constantly escaped from Lucilia’s lips. Her labored breathing increased his anxiety, making further delay impossible.

Aaron lowered his eyes and stared at her slender leg.

He folded the skirt up once more to prevent it from falling down after it had been raised to above her knee.

Trying not to look at her exposed thigh, he grabbed her calf while averting his gaze.

He was surprised at how much thinner her leg was compared to his forearm, and again surprised by her smooth skin that had no imperfections.

Her skin was so white that he felt his own dirt might transfer to her if he touched it. Despite having rolled on the ground with dirt clinging to her here and there, she still looked clean, making him wonder if he was somehow bewitched.

Indeed, she was a woman who offered no benefit from close association.

“You said you’d try to be helpful… but when?”

Aaron chided the unhearing Lucilia and made a clicking sound with his mouth.

Setting aside his impressions of her, it was time to face reality.

He sprinkled the medicine made from ground dried herbs onto the wounded area and wrapped it with a clean cloth.

“Looking at her condition, she won’t be able to swallow medicine.”

If Rombon knew, he would have spouted nonsense about having to transfer it mouth-to-mouth. Or perhaps he would have suggested holding her semi-upright and slowly pouring it in.

Either way, he would have predictably suggested methods requiring physical contact and then snickered about it.

Still, it was thoughtful of him to provide wet cloths.

Instead of medicine, he could use the wet cloths to reduce her fever. Though not as Rombon expected—he wouldn’t personally wipe her body.

Aaron casually brushed back her hair, which was soaked with cold sweat, and placed a water-soaked cloth on her forehead.

Having completed the basic treatment, he could finally catch his breath.

Sitting in an awkward position, he stared blankly at her pale face.

Lucilia looked so shabby that it was hard to believe she had once been a saint.

Even a beggar would look less pitiful than her.

“Enough, who’s worrying about whom?”

His own situation, having to take responsibility for her illness too, was surely the most miserable in the world.

“That’s it.”

He never had any sense of responsibility to watch over her to see if she improved.

His only thought was to escape this stifling space and breathe fresh air as soon as possible.

Lucilia Teneri, the saint whose circumstances changed overnight; Aaron Artnal, the knight who had been thriving but suddenly got saddled with this burden.

“Let’s contemplate our respective grievances later.”

Thinking he could return later to check if her fever had subsided, he pushed the wooden tray aside.

Just as he was about to move from his crouched position.

“Ah, when… when did you… come in?”