“If it wasn’t your doing, then fine. Don’t cause a commotion and get caught up in needless rumors. What master would weep openly for the death of a mere maid? If you want to receive the prince’s love, you should know how to maintain your dignity!”

With a slam, her father closed the door and left. Selina stared blankly at his retreating back. After standing for a while in terrible silence, she bent down to collect the urn of ashes that had fallen like trash. Clutching tightly the earrings she had given to Hela, she staggered to the bed and sat down. The Karnos household, having quickly finished the aftermath, had already assigned her a new maid.

“From now on, I will be serving you, my lady. My name is Yuria.”

The unfamiliar face entered with a creak of the door and bowed her head. Selina stared intently at the newly arrived maid and ordered:

“Bring me the Typhon receipts.”

“…Pardon?”

The blacklist, the list of trading companies, matters entrusted to the black market—the new maid understood none of it. As the maid simply blinked in confusion, staring at her like she was a madwoman, Selina grabbed a vase, threw it at her, and screamed for her to get out.

Left alone in her room, Selina placed Hela’s belongings in her mother’s box. Hugging that old box, she curled up and wept bitterly, just as she had done before her mother’s death many years ago. Her eyes blazed fiercely as tears poured out.

Then she suddenly stopped crying. In that brief moment of returned sanity, she could accept her father’s harsh words. Yes, girls like this can be found anywhere. What an undignified sight. Not befitting of nobility.

But then the tears burst forth again.

“Hela… Sob… Hela…!”

That girl who had followed and trusted her without question. She repeatedly broke down in deep grief over the absence of Hela, who had been by her side for over ten years.

* * *

“Analysis shows hallucinogenic effects, sleep-inducing properties, and mild aphrodisiac effects.”

Achilleon put down the document he was holding at his aide’s report. He hadn’t expected the dessert prepared by Selina to be ordinary, but an aphrodisiac? Either she was very brave or very foolish.

“And?”

“We found a n*ked man trying to escape through what appears to be a secret passage in the garden and confirmed his identity. It’s Orseus of House Schulus, nephew of Duke Clymene from the Council of Elders.”

Achilleon frowned.

“n*ked, from Selina’s garden?”

“Yes, we caught him trying to flee, but his mind wasn’t sound. He was completely intoxicated, muttering strange things, clearly hallucinating. When he recognized my face, he prostrated himself begging for forgiveness. He seemed out of his mind.”

“Intoxicated?”

“Yes. We couldn’t learn anything more. When pressed, he insisted he couldn’t speak of it and talked nonsense, making proper conversation impossible. Should we assign the Krypteia to investigate?”

“No, that’s enough. Good work, Rainan. Did you find out anything about the dead maid?”

“We’re still investigating. The Karnos side is being very secretive, making it difficult to secure decisive evidence.”

Achilleon gestured that he could withdraw. He had long suspected that something was hidden in the Karnos mansion. A family that ranked in the middle-upper tier among Council members had amassed wealth overnight. They claimed it was due to the hot spring business boom, but the circumstances were suspicious.

On the day of the party, he had secretly investigated the mansion through Rainan. Achilleon noted several clues: intoxicated noble guests, the Karnos property extending south of Mount Odepotos, El’s hallucinations. Most likely, these factors were intertwined in a dirty business that provided Karnos with an inexhaustible source of wealth.

Putting down the report, Achilleon glanced out the window. Not far from the training ground, he could faintly hear the soldiers’ shouts. The golden sunlight announcing the beginning of summer bathed the garden.

After checking the time, Achilleon was about to change clothes to join the training. His hand paused as he began to remove his clothes. Unlike the gloomy western bedroom in the annex, Achilleon stared at the bright weather with furrowed brows, then rang a bell to summon his aide again. Rainan responded promptly as always.

“The lady has fallen asleep. Her fever has dropped significantly since last night, and according to the royal physician, with sufficient medicine and nutrition to strengthen her body, she will gradually recover.”

Achilleon turned his steps away from the training ground and headed toward the western annex where Hari was staying. When he opened the bedroom door, the lukewarm heat characteristic of a patient who had suffered from fever hung in the air. Through the lightly fluttering curtains, he could vaguely see the silhouette of a woman lying in bed.

Achilleon looked around the room, which showed clear signs of neglect. A basin of cold water, a dried and twisted towel, a lukewarm glass of water, and scattered medicine lay on the bedside table. There was a dirty stain on the carpet, perhaps from spilled water, and the sheets were rumpled and hanging off the bed.

Neither in the corridor nor in the room was there any servant caring for Hari. He drew back the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed to check on her condition. Margharita’s face, having suffered from fever all night, was flushed red. It was the result of being soaked through and caught in the night rain. Though he had expected this outcome given her already weak constitution…

Achilleon pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at the woman’s pale, cracked lips that emitted hot, labored breaths. His gaze deepened as he observed Margharita, who had been barely conscious since nightfall. As expected, the stone that had hung around her neck was gone. His gaze moved from her slender nape to her bloodless, small face.

Her expression was always rigid, shadowed, with her eyebrows drawn together in a perpetual frown. But now, the woman whose sharp edges had been broken after gathering all her strength, looked as vulnerable as a child. Gently closed eyelids and relaxed facial muscles. Her limbs, sprawled lifelessly, were as thin as twigs. This raised questions.

Why does she grow more emaciated with each passing day?

Despite being fed adequately and receiving quality care since the Imprinting Ceremony.

Even if it were due to anxiety in her heart, hadn’t Lagonia and Galate already fallen? There was nothing the woman could change. If she chose to wither away because she couldn’t accept that reality, that would truly be foolish.

Clicking his tongue, Achilleon moved to tidy the messy bedside table. Changing his mind about summoning a maid to scold, he refilled the water himself and moistened a dry towel. He didn’t want to disturb the deeply sleeping woman by creating a commotion with servants who had failed in their responsibilities.

“Mmm…”

While wiping away the cold sweat on her face with the wet towel, the woman twisted slightly. Her face, peaceful until just a moment ago, wrinkled in what appeared to be a nightmare. Watching Margharita suffer, her fingers twitching almost convulsively, Achilleon unconsciously held his breath. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she writhed and mumbled incomprehensible words, just as he was reaching out to call for the physician.

“…Grandmother.”

Achilleon grasped Margharita’s hand as she sobbed. When he held down the hand that was painfully clawing at the sheets, the crying seemed to stop briefly, but soon silent tears soaked the pillow. The coldness of the woman’s body transmitted through her skin. While her face and neck burned red with fever, her finger joints felt cold as a corpse.

Achilleon stood rigidly watching her, and came to his senses only when Rainan’s report came with a knock.

“Your Highness, Commander-in-Chief Hoperon requests to see you. He says he has an urgent matter regarding the merit awards.”

“Tell him to come back later.”

“If the lady’s condition is not good, shall I call for the royal physician?”

Achilleon removed his hand from Hari’s forehead, remained silent for a moment, then shook his head. If she were to unconsciously blurt out something… It would be better not to let anyone into the room.

Achilleon poured powdered medicine into the woman’s mouth along with water. His hand supporting her fragile body tensed. He opened the window to drive out the stuffy heat in the room and loosened her sweat-soaked clothes slightly. The woman opened her eyes long after her breathing had calmed.

“…Achilleon?”

The woman, who opened her eyes wide in surprise, said nothing about her loosened clothes.

“Why is there no one attending to you?”

“I sent them all away.”

“If your condition has deteriorated this much, you should accept help.”

“I didn’t want to because it’s uncomfortable. I’m not stubbornly enduring for no reason. I took my medicine on time and followed the physician’s advice to wipe my body with a wet towel every three hours to bring down the fever. I can do it all by myself.”

Achilleon raised his eyebrows at her firm stubbornness. But Margharita remained adamant. It was more uncomfortable to have strangers rummaging around her room providing insincere care. Achilleon, who had been staring at Hari, rewet the towel that had fallen onto the bed. She wanted to refuse but remembered her position as a concubine. A prince showing concern for his favored woman, her regaining strength through his devoted care—that would be a more plausible picture. In truth, she had no strength left to refuse, so Hari just lay in bed watching his actions.