“Aisha!”

The physician entered at once, closely followed by Daniel and Arthur. Seeing the dark shadows beneath her brother’s eyes, Aisha managed a faint smile. Emotionally overwhelmed, Daniel almost rushed forward to embrace her, but Arthur restrained him and let the doctor through first.

“You mustn’t strain yourself. Until your body has recovered, you must rest completely.”

After examining her thoroughly, the physician breathed a sigh of relief. Yet even so, he spent the next thirty minutes giving stern instructions. He warned again and again that after surviving such a near-fatal ordeal, her body was fragile—so fragile that even a soft spring breeze must be treated with caution.

“You heard him, didn’t you? Don’t even think of getting up.”

“…As if I could, even if I wanted to.”

“Enough! Even your voice isn’t steady—don’t speak. Promise me.”

Eager to follow the doctor’s advice, Daniel cut her off before she could say any more, pressing a glass of water to her lips. Her throat burned as if it had been torn open. Although it was painful, Aisha nodded and accepted the drink, taking it from Daniel as he tilted the cup towards her.

As the water slipped down her throat, a horrific memory suddenly returned. She could see the ominous violet liquid, smell its strange, sharp scent and hear the sound of fleeing footsteps. She could also make out the flickering flames and the face of a certain man in her blurred vision.

Aisha turned her head away from the water and fixed her gaze on Daniel. Startled by her sudden change in expression, he looked uneasy. Meeting his gaze, she spoke in a voice that was both weak and steady.

“…Tell me what happened.”

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Daniel, surprisingly, told her everything he knew. From him, Aisha learned that the drug’s reaction had nearly cost her life, and that Ian had carried her out of the flames.

“Ian… no, His Lordship the Marquis—how is he now?”

“…That man still hasn’t woken.”

Unlike Aisha, who regained consciousness after ten days, Ian had not moved since the ceiling collapsed. Upon hearing that his condition was still critical, Aisha unconsciously bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.

‘It wasn’t your fault. Don’t burden yourself with guilt.’

Daniel repeated it to her over and over again. Aisha gave no reply, only a small nod. But her heart grew heavier and heavier, and that night, she lay awake tossing and turning until dawn.

After a month of silent turmoil, she finally resolved to visit the Lloyds herself once she was able to move again. Her family opposed her decision, but not strongly — they could not stop her.

Time had passed since Aisha awoke, yet Ian still had not. His condition weighed heavily not only on her, but also on the rest of the Parden family. Past grievances aside, there were emotions that could not be helped.

“…It’s been so long since I last came this way.”

With Marie beside her, Aisha rode toward House Lloyd, gazing out the carriage window at the road that now felt strangely unfamiliar. Only last year she had traveled it often, yet now it carried a different air.

“Welcome, my lady.”

“James…”

The carriage arrived soon afterwards. James came out to greet her at the main gate. Aisha’s throat tightened at the sight of him. His hair was whiter, his face more weathered, and he looked weighed down with fatigue, undoubtedly from his master’s illness. Her eyes stung; she turned her head slightly to hide it.

“Sir, I’ll go in now.”

James naturally guided her towards Ian, but Aisha remained silent. Even though he knew there would be no reply, he knocked politely before opening the door; every one of his gestures was steeped in courtesy. Watching him, Aisha felt her chest tighten, but she suppressed the swell of emotion and stepped quietly into the room.

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The summer heat had set in. Cicadas filled the daylight hours with their cries, while frogs chorused through the nights, blanketing the lush, green landscape with their voices. For the servants of noble families with large gardens, the season meant double the workload: tending to the abundant flowers by day and shooing away the cicadas and frogs that tried their masters’ patience at night.

“Still no change with the master?”

“None. The physician said if he wakes at all, it will be a miracle…”

Yet amid all the noise, one place remained silent: the Lloyd estate. With Ian lying unconscious for over a month, the mansion had descended into the gloom of a house in mourning.

“…If the master truly dies, what will become of us?”

“What else? Lady Sophia in the south will inherit the title.”

“But Lady Sophia is… well… Perhaps that distant relative of the house would be better?”

Servants whispered whenever they gathered in pairs or more, anxiety etched on their darting eyes and restless expressions.

“But that woman was exposed conspiring with the old mistress—the woman cast out from the fallen kingdom of Todome. She’s in prison now… Oh! Steward!”

James, steward of House Lloyd, was well aware of the household’s sinking mood. They tried to guard their tongues in his presence, but it was impossible to hide from his ears.

“…Why are you idling instead of working?”

“S-sorry, sir!”

He considered scolding them more harshly but let it go. The servants stiffened in terror, then scattered at his dismissive wave.

“Haa…”

Left alone, James sighed with weariness. Deep lines of age framed his face, every crease etched with worry. Yet he quickly straightened up, smoothed down his clothes, and composed his expression. His steps were steady, his back straight, and his resolve clear in every movement.

Soon, he reached the room where Ian lay. Although he knew there would be no answer, James knocked respectfully before opening the door. Despite the summer heat, the air inside was cool. He checked the large basin of ice in the corner, then moved towards the bed. His expression shadowed with concern, he looked at his master.

Apart from the scar running from above his left eye through his brow, his face had mostly healed. But his body was another matter entirely. From his neck to his waist, his torso bore the ravages of flame — his right shoulder, arm, and back were the worst affected. Initially, the wounds had wept so profusely that the physician had discarded heap after heap of bloodied cloth.

Now, at least, most of the burns had closed. Yet the physician had warned that scars would remain. James’s concern, however, was not for the marks on his master’s body, but for the wounds to his spirit. Still, Ian did not move.

‘His Lordship was on his way down when the building collapsed over him…’

The knights who witnessed the event swore that the partially flame-engulfed beams and roof had fallen upon him. The physician believed that he had sustained a severe blow to the head at that moment and could not say whether he would regain consciousness. James had often asked him for reassurance, but the answer was always the same.

‘If only the young lady would come once more…’

James gazed at his motionless master, tears welling in his eyes. He hastily wiped them away. He remembered Aisha’s visit three days earlier. He had seen it clearly.

“…Is he all right? What did the physician say?”

At the sound of her trembling voice, Ian’s fingers moved — just barely, but unmistakably. The physician dismissed this as an illusion, insisting that nothing had changed. But James trusted his own eyes.

“Aisha, I beg you. At least until the master wakes… no—even just for a few more days, could you visit him again?”

“…James. I’m sorry.”

“My lady…”

“When Ian—when His Lordship awakens, please send me word. And take this…”

That was why James asked Aisha to come again just as she was preparing to leave the Lloyd estate. However, instead of doing so, she drew a letter from her bosom and placed it in his hand. She said only one last word before walking away.

James knew how grievously his master had wronged House Parden, especially Aisha. Yet, given Ian’s condition, he could not help but feel that she was being cold in refusing his request. After all, hadn’t it been his master who had saved her? This thought circled through his mind again and again.

‘What am I thinking…’

He shook his head, pushing down the resentment threatening to surface. Since Ian’s collapse, House Parden had provided them with a great deal of support. Count Parden had shielded them from distant relatives with dubious claims and political enemies eager to exploit Ian’s condition. He had also warned Sophia that others might try to approach her and had sent men to protect her. Not only had the Pardens dispatched their own physician, they had also sent several other skilled doctors to support the Lloyd household.

‘She refused to visit, but the young lady is still in the capital… She has said nothing, but she is surely thinking of the master.’

James dipped a cloth into clean water, wrung it out, and began to wipe the wounds. With the summer heat, the burns needed constant tending.

“My lord, tomorrow I’ll have a letter sent to Lady Sophia…”

James was talking to Ian and pressing a damp cloth against his skin when he felt something move beneath the light summer quilt. He pulled the blanket back at once. There, faint but unmistakable, he could see trembling fingers — then a hand twitched, weak yet alive.

“Physician! Call the physician, now!”

He shouted, and he could hear hurried footsteps pounding towards the room outside. Turning back to his master, James was about to call his name when a pair of cloudy blue eyes suddenly fluttered open.