Laila was the one who believed in his worth even when he himself hadn’t recognized it. Eugene didn’t want to disappoint that faith. More than anything, he wanted to hone his skills as quickly as possible and prove that her judgment had been right.

“Don’t worry. You’ll definitely become the greatest physician someday.”

As if she had read his thoughts, Laila spoke gently. There was unwavering trust in her voice. Emotion welled up in Eugene’s chest.

“Thank… you.”

“If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry. I keep wondering if I’m holding you back…”

“Holding me back? Not at all!”

Startled, Eugene raised his voice.

That was unthinkable.

A man of his lowly birth becoming a noble’s personal physician that alone was an extraordinary rise in status.

Back then, Laila had only been the daughter of Count Nelasidad.

Not long after, she became the Duchess of the prestigious Loardy family.

“Thank you. I know how hard you’ve been working.”

Laila smiled faintly.

Eugene was currently carrying out the task she had entrusted to him something that demanded immense time and concentration, to the point of sleepless nights.

The fact that she recognized his effort made his heart race.

“No, it’s only natural. It’s what I should be doing.”

He admitted shyly. Laila’s eyes softened warmly. A few seconds of silence followed.

“…That’s the kind of person you’ve always been, Eugene.”

When she opened her eyes again, her violet gaze was unfocused.

“Lady Laila?”

Eugene immediately noticed the change.

An uneasy feeling crept up his spine.

“Lady Laila, are you alright?”

He leaned closer to examine her.

“You always burn with passion to heal others…You never give up…I envy you.”

Her voice was faint, almost like she was speaking to herself. Her gaze was hazy, her tone distant. Eugene’s expression hardened. Quickly, he pulled out a penlight and checked her pupils and light reflex.

“Ah… I mean…”

Her eyes slowly regained focus. A heavy silence fell between them. Laila composed her expression and looked at him calmly. Her violet eyes, like pressed flowers, rested on him. After a brief pause, she spoke again.

“I’ve run out of medicine, Eugene.”

The color drained from his face.

“Lady Laila, I gave you enough for a whole month!”

His voice rose involuntarily. Just two weeks ago, he had prepared more than the usual amount.

He knew he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t refuse her. Sweat formed on his back as he mentally reviewed her prescriptions.

The tinnitus and headache medicine—unchanged.
The sedatives for her insomnia—unchanged.
Stomach medicine, painkillers, medication for her trembling hands…

“Ah.”

He let out a short breath.

He had forgotten, he had reduced one of the headache medicines by half to lessen its potency.

“…Ha…”

A quiet sigh escaped him.

The more frequently she took the medicine, the more worried he became. Overuse could damage her body.

“Taking too much is not good for you.”

“Please, Eugene.”

“…Just this once.”

At her plea, he gave a bitter smile.

In truth, he had no choice.

A physician couldn’t refuse a patient who desperately needed their medication.

“But this time, you must follow my instructions exactly.”

“I will.”

Laila smiled faintly, took the medicine he prepared, and left the treatment room.

Silence settled. Eugene quickly recorded her symptoms and examination results before burying his face in his hands.

This wasn’t good.

Not at all.

‘She can’t keep taking it like this…’

“…Come to think of it.”

His thoughts drifted back to the Duke of Loardy.

‘Does His Grace… not know about Lady Laila’s condition?’

Judging from his reaction, he didn’t.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to smoke in front of someone suffering from tinnitus.

“…Lady Laila.”

A troubled sigh left Eugene’s lips.

He had always thought the duke was fortunate to have such a gentle and kind woman as his wife.

But the man he saw today was her complete opposite.

Arrogant. Rude. Ill-tempered.

A bitter smile flickered across Eugene’s lips before fading away.

***

Vincent lounged crookedly on the couch, drawing in the smoke of his cigar.

At a friend’s suggestion, he had come to the social gathering tonight.

In the hazy atmosphere, people exchanged subtle, knowing glances. But Vincent sat among them with a darkened expression, his thoughts consumed by what had happened recently.

“Laila Nelasidad.”

He murmured the name of the woman who had become his problem.

Normally, the haze of smoke would dull his mind, but tonight, his thoughts were sharper than ever.

The more he thought about it, the deeper he sank into a maze with no exit.

What the h*ll was that?

Three days ago, Laila had taken another man’s side.

Not only that, she had looked at Vincent coldly.

And she had smiled at that man, a smile she rarely showed him.

Vincent clenched his fist so tightly that the veins stood out.

His throat bobbed, a low, animalistic growl scraping up from deep within his chest.

“…Anyway, Vincent, we still haven’t heard your opinion. What do you think?”

“……”

“…Yeah, Vincent. Say something. Which side are you on?”

While he’d been lost in thought, the conversation had shifted several times.

Vincent curled one corner of his lips, still holding the cigar.

“Shut up.”

The noise buzzing in his head was unbearable.

He was trying to think, so why were there so many distractions?

At this rate, he felt like plunging his head into cold water.

For someone like him, who never overthought anything, this was nothing short of maddening.

“Hey there.”

A sultry voice cut in.

Vincent turned sharply.

A blonde woman with a beauty mark beneath her lip was looking straight at him. Her eyes tilted upward at the corners, her figure full and enticing.

She smiled knowingly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Nice to meet you again.”

“R-Rosenta?”

The reaction came from beside him.

Viscount Milian stammered in surprise.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“O-Of course! Here, take my seat!”

Milian scrambled to move as Rosenta sat down gracefully.

Rosenta Marienne, once known as the Empire’s Rose.

Her dazzling beauty had once dominated high society.

Vincent let his gaze slide over her lazily.

The sharp charm, the provocative eyes, nothing had changed.

“So, have you been well?”

She leaned lightly against him, batting her lashes.

Milian looked on with envy.

Lucky b*stard.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?”

Vincent finally recognized her properly and frowned.

Of all people, it was one of his former partners.

And one of the more troublesome ones at that.

He shoved her off as if brushing away filth.

“Hey, hey—come on, it’s Rosenta! It’s been years since you saw her. You can’t be that cold, right?” Milian nudged him.

Rosenta pouted.

“Seriously. You haven’t changed at all in three years. Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

The more she spoke, the worse Vincent’s expression became.

Milian suddenly realized his mistake.

Once Vincent snapped, he was impossible to rein in.

“R-Rosenta… you might not know, but Vincent got married last year.”

“I know. To some declining house, right?”

Rosenta shrugged casually.

Vincent said nothing, setting his cigar into the ashtray.

It wasn’t entirely wrong.

The Nelasidad family had long since lost its standing.

His late mother-in-law, the count’s second wife, had been a commoner who never truly fit into noble society.

“Well, I guess you’ve been working out?”

Rosenta’s hand suddenly landed on his thigh.

Vincent froze.

She traced upward slowly, admiringly.

Before her hand could go any further, he grabbed her wrist.

It felt disgusting, like something crawling on his skin.

“What? That’s not like you—”

She didn’t get to finish.

“Aaah!”

A sharp scream rang through the hall.

Wine poured down over Rosenta’s head, soaking her hair and dress.

“You—what do you think you’re—!”

Her whole body trembled in rage.

“Even a courtesan wouldn’t behave like you.”

Vincent looked at her coldly.

“Can’t you take a hint? Get lost.”

Her blonde hair dripped with wine.

Laughter spread through the room.

Rosenta’s face turned red with fury.

“You—!”

She grabbed his collar, her hand raised to strike.

Vincent didn’t resist.

If she wanted to hit him, so be it.

Their faces drew close from the force—

“…Vincent?”

A familiar voice cut through the now-silent hall.

His heart dropped.

He turned.

Laila was standing there, looking straight at him.

“What are you doing here…?”

This kind of gathering wasn’t a place for someone like her.

Vincent’s thoughts scrambled as the scene finally registered.

D*mn it.

He shoved Rosenta away.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

Rosenta on top of him.
Their faces close together.

To anyone watching it looked exactly like they were about to kiss.

Even though they weren’t.