“From the moment the symptoms appeared, no one has been allowed past her door. Even the reason for refusing care remains unknown.”

“…”

“We questioned the maid who’s been granted access, but she only repeated the princess’s instructions not to worry. It’s been days since anyone’s seen her, so we don’t know whether her condition has improved or worsened. But what can we do? If the princess herself insists, what authority do we have to compel her to accept treatment?”

It was a thinly veiled appeal. They were powerless to intervene, so would his grace please step in? Knowing the nature of Ruben’s feelings toward Helia, Will felt doubly uneasy. He didn’t relish being the one to draw the two of them together when it seemed best to keep them apart.

“Ha.”

A hollow laugh escaped Ruben’s lips.

Of course. In the end, this was another trap Helia had laid to ensnare him. To think she would exploit even her suffering for this purpose—what a ruthless woman. Or perhaps it was all an act. The problem was that, despite being fully aware of her machinations, Ruben had no choice but to walk straight into them. His elegant features twisted into a scowl.

“How long has it been?”

“This is the third day.”

Three days? His brows furrowed involuntarily. If it were a severe illness, three days could be enough to claim a life. Without asking further questions, Ruben rose to his feet.

“Prepare the carriage. We’re going to the Star Residence.”

If there was no choice but to go, it was better to leave immediately. Will hurried to assist his master in making the necessary arrangements for the journey.

Standing a few steps away, Enoch observed quietly, his clenched fists trembling ever so slightly.

****

When Ruben arrived at the Star Residence, the waiting staff bowed deeply. Among them, Della, the head maid responsible for the residence, approached quickly. Though her heart was heavy with guilt, her worry for her mistress outweighed any personal feelings. Ruben met her gaze as she drew closer. Thankfully, there was no reproach in his eyes.

“Is the princess in her room?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Three days ago, when we helped her back to her chambers after she collapsed.”

Collapsed? That was news to him. He had been indifferent when he heard she was unwell, suspecting a ruse. But hearing that she had actually collapsed made the situation suddenly feel real.

Helia Bailey was sick. She had collapsed in front of the staff and hadn’t been seen since.

His heart thudded erratically in his chest, an unfamiliar, uneasy rhythm. Yet, as if the emotion belonged to someone else, Ruben maintained a composed exterior and asked calmly.

“What were her symptoms?”

“She mentioned dizziness on her way to her chambers. Her body was very warm when we assisted her, suggesting she had a high fever.”

The answers were all conjectures. There is not a single definitive fact among them. Frustrated, Ruben ran a hand through his hair, the movement harsher than usual. Even he didn’t realize that the gesture carried a trace of unexplained anxiety.

Dizziness and high fever. Even without medical knowledge, it was clear that no healer on the continent could diagnose her condition based on such vague symptoms alone. Ruben strode toward Helia’s room with an unreadable expression, his steps steady and measured. The staff and the Duke’s personal physician, who had been waiting at the Pavilion, followed in silent procession.

As Ruben advanced, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. The attendants trailing behind him froze as well. Puzzled, he glanced around the hallway before addressing Della.

“Seems like you’re short on staff.”

“Well, um…”

After hesitating briefly, Della revealed the truth. The story follows: Helia had an issue with a maid serving her tea not long ago. She had thrown the teacup in anger and dismissed the maid. In fact, she had denied two maids in total, leaving only three to serve her.

Ruben was incredulous. Though he had delegated the household’s administrative matters to his steward, the staffing and management of the Duke’s estate ultimately fell under his jurisdiction. Yet Helia had been not only meddling but outright dismissing his employees. She was, without question, abusing her position.

This estate belonged to the House of Effenberg, not her. Helia was merely a guest, yet she had taken liberties as if she were its mistress. It was a blatant overreach of power.

However, regrettably, now was not the time to address such matters. Resolving to have a firm conversation later, Ruben quickened his steps. The servants, likewise, resumed following in his wake.

As they neared the bedroom, the door suddenly opened. Ruben halted abruptly.

The person who emerged, however, was not Helia. That left only one likely possibility—it must have been the maid Helia herself had granted access to. Ruben, maintaining his usual detached demeanor, approached her. Lina noticed him and bowed politely.

“Where is Her Highness?”

“She’s asleep.”

“And her condition?”

“She’s recovering.”

Lina responded courteously to Ruben’s inquiries. Yet, every answer lacked substance.

Ruben fixed his gaze on her. Although his demeanor remained polite, he silently appraised her with growing displeasure. Lina’s composed countenance betrayed neither fear nor hesitation. Instead, her eyes seemed indifferent, devoid of apparent concern for her mistress’s condition. It was a detachment Ruben found intensely grating, though he reflexively suppressed the irritation rising within him. The maid’s sentiments toward Helia were irrelevant—or so he tried to convince himself.

“And yet, no physician has been permitted to examine her thus far,” he said.

“It was Her Highness’s wish.”

Lina’s tone remained measured, and her response was delivered with the same unflappable calm. But her unwavering neutrality grated against Ruben’s nerves, his mind already simmering with disdain.

‘A loyalty that would move one to tears.’

This maid would stand idly by if Helia ordered them to let her die. To think she kept someone like this so close—a mere handful of trusted individuals, and this was the caliber she chose.

Ruben’s jade-green eyes turned cold, an icy chill sweeping through the room. Sensing the atmosphere shift, the servants stiffened, instinctively avoiding any movement that might draw attention to themselves.

“I’ll see her.”

“Her Highness instructed that no one be admitted.”

“Not even her fiancé?”

Ruben’s voice was sharp, laced with accusation, but Lina merely lowered her head in acknowledgment, an unspoken confirmation of Helia’s command.

Ruben scowled. The servants behind him exchanged furtive glances, whispering anxiously among themselves.

‘What a farcical arrangement,’ he thought bitterly.

Helia’s whims dictated everything. When unnecessary, she stirred trouble incessantly, and when necessary, she rendered herself entirely inaccessible. This dysfunctional dynamic epitomized their relationship, marked by perpetual misalignment and discord. No matter how much Helia resisted, the chasm between them remained unbridgeable.

After a brief silence, Ruben spoke deliberately.

“Then allow me to rephrase.”

“…….”

“As the Duke of Effenberg and the master of this estate, I must check on the well-being of my guest.”

“However—”

Lina faltered, her protest trailing off. By asserting his authority as the lord of the house, Ruben left her with no ground to argue. Though entering an unwell lady’s room uninvited was a blatant breach of etiquette, the Duke had made it clear he was prepared to accept that impropriety. With no viable recourse, Lina reluctantly stepped aside.

Ruben pressed on.

“Her Highness asked for a private space beyond my reach.”

“…….”

“That space was not her bedroom.”

Lina sighed softly, stepping back to open the door. The room beyond was dim, shrouded by drawn curtains.

“The physician still won’t be allowed to examine her.”

“I’ll handle the persuasion myself.”

Brushing off Lina’s caution, Ruben strode into the room. The servants outside watched his retreating figure anxiously as it disappeared into the shadows.

Ruben headed straight for the bed. Helia lay motionless, sound asleep, her usual sharp expression erased. Her pale, serene face bore no trace of the acerbic remarks she was known for, her tightly closed lips suggesting they would not utter a word anytime soon. Though sick, she did not groan in discomfort or breathe laboriously. Even in her sleep, she betrayed no signs of her suffering.

“Is she already recovered?”