17. Breaking the Secret (2)

Constantine Kramer.

Caligo’s Oathkeeper.

This meant he was someone who had endured a difficult and painful succession process.

Therefore, he never thought his patience would be this thin. No, he had lived believing his patience would not lose to anyone.

His formative years were defined by endurance and perseverance, with survival as the underlying premise. As those years passed, the concept of survival grew to encompass not only his own but also that of the countless residents of the vast Kramer territory.

A life lived reluctantly, burdened by the sense of duty of an Oathkeeper carrying the weight of too many lives in his hands.

He was just a man living such a life—full of responsibilities but devoid of enjoyment. As a result, none of the desires that drove others crazy particularly appealed to him.

With no joy in life, one might turn to pleasure for interest, but that cooled before he could even try.

— Wow! How about that woman? Her br*asts are huge! No, that woman over there looks good too. Your ancestors said women with hips like that bear children like popping corn!

It was because of Caligo.

Listening to Caligo’s mental commentary would cool even a thousand years of arousal.

— Master! Are you really going to die living like this?! Really not getting married? No mating? Not making an heir, huh? Humans usually love mating, master, what’s wrong with you?

Fortunately, it was rather fortunate that his s*x drive didn’t seem particularly strong.

— Master? Could it be you…

Neither s*x drive nor the things others typically went crazy for—desire for honor, power, or wealth—could move him.

— Is that it? What humans call impotent? Master, are you impotent?!

Ah, though perhaps he should say he had some desire for sleep.

Even then, not as much as others, just at the level of ‘Please let me sleep quietly and deeply for even two hours a day.’

— Really impotent?! Oh my! My master being impotent…!

Before meeting Saena, Caligo would frequently wail and lament about his master being impotent.

“……”

But that was ancient history now.

Constantine woke up holding a warm body in his arms.

A sweet sleep like honey after so long.

In peak condition as if he had never been injured.

His mind was silence itself.

This supreme peacefulness.

How he had missed it.

And it all came from her.

‘…Again.’

He had unconsciously clung to her like this and received benefits.

‘Despite trying so hard to maintain vigilance.’

Yes, vigilance.

If he were in his right mind, he should quickly withdraw again.

He should be content with this accidentally tasted peace while feeling sorry.

It would be good to leave polite thanks and apologies with proper manners.

But as mentioned before, his patience had now become as thin as paper.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that all the standards of his previous life disappeared after meeting Saena.

His body was reacting terribly to the female form in his arms, boasting its improved condition. It was difficult to control himself even while knowing full well what results this brief sweet contact would bring.

‘What complete trash.’

He had tried desperately hard. In his own way at least.

Of course, if he had known from the start that having contact with him could threaten her lifespan, he would never have approached her in the first place…

‘No, did I really not know…?’

Wasn’t he just playing dumb, thinking that since her reaction to his body temperature was fine, that part would be fine too?

In truth, he had no defense.

If examined deeply, somewhere in the depths of his conscience was probably wavering.

But he had been desperate, and her body temperature stabilized him.

It melted him and led him to a completely different world.

The feel of her soft skin against his, her body heat, her scent. The sensations that seemed to completely absorb him when he entered her.

It was as if she existed just for him.

In those moments of being drawn in, he could only think about somehow keeping her. Only about somehow keeping her by his side.

If it weren’t for the Yolly incident, it would still be that way now.

‘Would she still smile at me if she knew the nanny was dying because of me?’

If she knew that Yolly’s death-like sleep was likely in response to the deadly disease Constantine had given to her nanny?

Just imagining it made his breath stop.

If he assumed she would avoid him, look at him with fearful or disgusted eyes…

Not only did his breath stop, but his hands began to tremble.

“Ha…”

Though knowing he should push her away, he couldn’t do it heartlessly.

Even while desperately maintaining distance, his eyes constantly sought her out. And whenever he lost control of himself like this, he would invariably find himself holding her in his arms.

Like a leech living parasitically off her.

‘Get off her, you bastard.’

Cursing at himself, Constantine slowly pulled the female body from his arms.

“Ugh…”

The warm body clung back as if reluctant to separate. Constantine felt his heart skip.

‘…Warm?’

Wait, something was strange.

His cool body temperature was abnormal, but this level of warmth didn’t seem normal either.

He hadn’t noticed immediately because she was always warmer than him, but now Saena’s temperature seemed beyond just warm—it felt hot.

“…Saena?”

Only then did Constantine check her forehead and nape with the back of his hand while pulling away from her. With her flushed cheeks and reddened eyes, she clearly seemed to have a fever.

Looking more closely, she was still in the same clothes he’d last seen her in. And since his wounds were mostly treated, it wasn’t hard to make a basic deduction.

It appeared she had found him, treated him, and then fallen asleep without taking care of herself, catching a cold in the process.

Constantine hurriedly got up from the bed and pulled the bell cord. Before the maid could arrive, he went out to the hallway and shouted for a doctor.

“Doctor! Bring a doctor immediately–!”

Shortly after, the Kramer family physician arrived.

Contrary to Saena’s belief, the Kramer family did have a physician.

Constantine simply chose not to receive treatment from him.

“It’s a mild cold with fever.”

“…Mild?”

At his cold question, the doctor flinched and changed his words.

“…While it is a cold with fever, it’s not too severe. With prescribed medicine and plenty of rest, she’ll recover quickly.”

“How quickly?”

“Two to three days… probably…”

“Bring the medicine quickly.”

“Yes! Your Grace.”

The doctor explained the necessary measures to take for the patient while the medicine was being prepared, then quickly disappeared.

This included wiping her whole body with a lukewarm damp towel and changing her into clean clothes.

Constantine considered briefly before calling three of Saena’s close maids. Then he gave instructions.

As he wasn’t suitable for wiping her bare body.

After the body washing was complete and Saena was changed into thick, comfortable sleepwear, Constantine carried her to the Duchess’s room. Of course, he was careful not to let bare skin touch.

By then, the medicine must have been prepared as the physician sent it via a servant. This came with instructions on how many times per day to take it, how to take it, and advice to keep changing the wet cloth on her forehead if the fever persisted.

Constantine nursed her in her room, which he hadn’t visited in a while. While he couldn’t wipe her bare body, he could certainly change the wet cloth and give her medicine.

Though he wore long-sleeved clothes and even gloves to minimize contact, Saena kept pressing her feverish body against him, as if instinctively knowing he was cool.

Why did that sight appear so lovable to him?

To the point where it was frustrating that bare skin couldn’t touch.

The time spent with Saena, who lay there completely entrusting herself to his care, was both satisfying and painful.

Whether it was the medicine’s effectiveness or she was healthier than expected, he felt both joy and regret seeing her show improvement with the fever breaking after just one day, rather than the two to three days the doctor had mentioned. And Constantine felt ambivalent about these mixed feelings of his.

To the point where he wasn’t sure what he truly wished for.

“…Constantine?”

But one thing was clear—he didn’t wish for her to be sick.