“Call for a doctor to treat her. If it’s traditional treatment instead of holy power, it might have an effect.”

Eclace offered the calm suggestion.

Shed’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Carlisle.”

“Yes, my lord.”

At the somewhat steadier sound of Shed’s voice, Carlisle bowed and left the room. Even without lengthy instructions, he soon returned with a doctor in tow.

Compared to the miraculous healing power of priests, doctors could do little more than treat common folk. Nobles never wanted to call for a physician when injured; they always demanded the care of a priest.

But now, what they needed was not a priest—but a doctor.

“Y-you summoned me, Your Grace.”

The physician bowed, struggling to breathe in the stuffy air of the room.

She ordered the priest to step aside at once and began tending to the wound. The priest frowned at the sight of the large, well-worn medical bag the doctor was carrying. He clearly found such crude, unrefined methods beneath him, but he had no choice.

The doctor worked as he had been trained, knowing nothing of holy power or black magic, but being well versed in disinfecting and stitching wounds.

Soon, the bleeding was fully controlled. He carefully applied medicine, sutured the wound, and wrapped fresh bandages around Liana’s body.

By the time he had wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up straight, Shed was already striding towards him, his eyes fixed like a predator’s.

To Eclace, it was like seeing a warhound awaiting its master, not a harmless pup.

“The condition.”

“I’ve done all that can be done. From here, it will require close watch and appropriate continued care…”

“I asked if she’s safe.”

“We’ve only passed the first critical moment. The wound is large and deep, and she lost much blood. Beyond this… it’s in the hands of the gods.”

The answer fell short of Shed’s expectations. His face grew cold, expressionless with suppressed fury.

Damnable priests, damnable doctors—all of them useless.

“Get out.”

He raked a rough hand through his hair. The physician and the priest hurried out without saying anything.

Carlisle and Eclace followed them.

When the door shut, Shed sank heavily into a chair. He clasped his hands together, locking them tightly.

He knew. It wasn’t them who were incompetent — it was him.

Unable to contain the fury rising in his chest, he had taken it out on those around him who were unable to defend themselves.

He had never felt so wretched or so powerless. Not when he had been surrounded by enemies, not when trusted subordinates had betrayed him and sold his secrets, and not even when he had been faced with the towering shadow of a monstrous beast.

He looked at the woman lying on the bed, breathing faintly and shallowly. The sight brought back an old memory, causing his head to throb.

Yes — sometime in the past. Back when his relationship with Luise Ideana could not yet be described as ill-fated.

Even then, she often lay in bed. She had been frail since childhood and had rarely left the Ideana estate. Unable to go outside, she was taught by tutors who came to her, and she never had the chance to make friends.

When he returned from hunting or fighting, bearing trophies and game, Luise Ideana would hurry out to see the things brought in from the outside world.

A servant burdened with the spoils would kneel before the curious young lady and show her what had been brought back. It was in those moments that he grew closer to her.

She seemed to belong in a sunlit garden: She had pale skin, a light and delicate frame, bright, curious eyes and hair the colour of platinum gold that danced in the breeze. She had a clear smile that lifted the hearts of those who saw her.

There was a time when he believed Luise Ideana to be flawless, a noble being without blemish, at least until he learned why she could never step beyond the gates.

“Cough—! Khh, cough!”

“My lady…!”

He watched blood spill from her lips, splattering across sunlit blades of grass, as her small body collapsed onto the earth.

When her frail body was racked with fever and her stomach was so badly damaged that she could not swallow anything,

The maids carried her away with weary faces, wiping away the blood as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.

At night, when she was wracked with convulsions and her body twisted in agony, her cries could be heard seeping through the door.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“Shed… help me…”

When she regained consciousness, her voice was hoarse and strained as she called out to him. On nights when her small frame shook with pain, he held her close.

She would suffer, gasping as though death were near, before finally collapsing into an exhausted, death-like sleep.

The next day, however, she would sit up in bed as though nothing had happened.

“About last night… I’m sorry.”

With a faint smile on her pale face, she apologised as if her suffering were a sin. After each episode, she wilted as though she had lost her life force.

Luise was afraid that her pain would become a burden to others. She even confessed to feeling sorry for her father, who had endured great suffering because of her illness since her childhood.

Perhaps that was why she had become accustomed to enduring her suffering in silence.

Even when blood welled up and she vomited it, she would calmly reach for a basin, spit out the blood,

and wipe her lips with trembling hands.

When she had a fever, she would bury herself under the blankets and bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.

Sometimes, when she could hardly breathe, she would send everyone away, clutch her chest and endure the agony until she was drenched in cold sweat.

Pain had been her daily life, and so she endured it as if it were simply her share in this world.

“Strange, isn’t it? That I’m still alive even after all this.”

Her words, spoken so casually, pierced his heart like thorns. As if what she truly meant was that she was frustrated she hadn’t died sooner.

She believed that death would come faster than any cure for her incurable illness.

But—

“And yet, Luise, you’ve managed to survive until now.”

Standing at the razor’s edge of life, she had endured all this time, hadn’t she?

Shed’s jaw tightened. Liana’s slender hand, resting atop the blanket, was so pale it looked like white plaster, drained of every trace of blood.

“So you must endure this time, too.”

‘No matter how painful it is, you have to keep living as you always have. I’ll curse the night itself if I must. I’ll even pray to the devil if it means keeping you alive.’

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

Thwack!

The sharp, splitting sound made Eclace furrow his brow.

‘Has he lost his mind?’

Annoyance burned as he watched the man swinging his sword from afar.

Wham! Thwack! Crack! Smash!

The noise had gone on all night. It was so loud that he hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Even now, with the sun up, there was no sign of it stopping.

Eclace fought the urge to curse as he watched Shed. That madman hadn’t stopped since the night before.

He had started before dinner and continued without pause, his body drenched in sweat after discarding his shirt long ago. He struck, broke and destroyed anything he could get his hands on.

‘How much has he shattered already?’

Eclace rubbed his tired face as he looked at the pile of broken wood and stone stacked on one side of the mansion grounds. In just one night, the wreckage had grown to such a height that it resembled a small hill.

Even massive boulders that seemed impossible to break with a sword had been reduced to rubble by his hand.

‘That damned mad duke.’

Eclace spat the words inwardly. After a sleepless night, his nerves were raw, and the silent curses in his mind would never be heard by anyone anyway.

‘Why the hell is he doing this all night long?’

Why? Of course he knew. It was because of that woman.

That delicate beauty who resembled Luise Ideana. The woman who had not woken for three days.

“D*mn it…”

Shed, swinging his sword with all his might, finally let it fall. The blade clattered to the ground before the mound of shattered debris.

No matter how much he swung, no matter how much he smashed everything in sight, nothing inside him was eased.

No matter how many times he tried, the tangled mess of emotions and thoughts in his head refused to clear.

‘If only I had moved faster.’
‘If only I had judged more precisely.’
‘If only I hadn’t let my guard down for that one moment.’
‘If only I had kept my eyes firmly on Liana and protected her…’

He knew that such ‘what ifs’ were pathetic and meaningless. Yet they tormented him endlessly, binding him like chains forged from searing-hot steel.

No matter how many times he tried to dispel them, those thoughts remained as stubborn as ever.

If she never opened her eyes again, he would destroy himself next.

The veins in his hand bulged as he gripped his sword tighter.

“Lord Lester.”

Seizing the moment when Shed briefly lowered his blade, Eclace finally dared to speak.

He lifted his head. At the sight of his bloodshot eyes, Eclace flinched.

‘He looks terrible.’

Of course he did — Shed Lester was only human, after all. After swinging his sword all night, it would have been unusual if he had emerged unscathed.

The calluses on his hands had long since split under the strain, blood seeping from the cuts and dripping in scattered drops.

His body was drenched in sweat. His bare torso, stripped of its shirt, glistened with a sheen that made the mass of scarred muscle appear all the more daunting.

His hair, usually brushed neatly back, hung in damp, dishevelled strands over his brow.

He was an overwhelming and wild figure, yet he also looked the weakest and most vulnerable Shed Lester had ever seen.