Chapter 21
In truth, Richard had not been asleep at that time. Being sensitive to the slightest sound, he had focused his attention on Veronica ever since she carefully got up and walked to the bars.
He worried she might get caught by a guard for slipping so freely back and forth past the iron bars.
But what he overheard was Veronica conspiring with a guard.
“Did the warden order her to poison me?”
It came a little earlier than expected, but it wasn’t surprising that Kaseness would try to kill him with poison. Most likely, he had planned to use Veronica to lull him into carelessness.
Even so, Richard trusted Veronica until the evening of the next day.
“Veronica would never betray me. She said she didn’t want me to die.”
Their conversation before falling asleep had extinguished even the smallest spark of doubt. He believed her answer to the guard—that she would accept the warden’s offer—was only a lie, forced out of her by Kaseness’s pressure. After all, it would do neither of them any good if their special relationship was exposed.
But Veronica betrayed his trust outright.
“Hahaha! Serves you right. What kind of fool just swallows whatever someone gives him without question? How could you know what might be inside, ha ha!”
Gone was the kind, gentle expression he had always seen. Instead, Veronica let out a crazed laugh, like a wicked witch.
So this was her true face?
A deep disgust toward her surged in Richard’s chest, along with self-loathing for ever having trusted a witch.
Lying on the wooden bed with his back to her, he vowed he would never again feel a shred of sympathy for that woman.
But then, from the opposite cell, faint moans began to drift over. Her restless, feverish breathing and occasional whimpers grated on his nerves.
Richard cast a cold gaze at the restless lump beneath the blanket.
What’s her game this time? Another ploy to toy with me?
She sounded like someone sick with fever. Then suddenly, it struck him—he was the one who had ingested the poison, and yet he was hardly in pain at all.
That was strange. Aside from vomiting up his meal soon after eating, he had felt no serious symptoms or pain.
Meanwhile, across from him, the noises had stopped entirely. The only thing she had eaten was the tomato soup…
“No… Could it be? She didn’t know there was poison in the tomato soup, and she ate it herself!”
Richard realized that Veronica was the one who had been poisoned. Torn between the vow never to pity the witch again and the irresistible concern pulling him toward her, he wavered.
It didn’t take long before he abandoned his fragile resolve.
“Did you eat poison? If it’s unbearable, I’ll call the guard.”
“…N-no. If the guard finds out, word will get back to Kyle.”
Her delayed answer sounded half-delirious.
Coming closer, he saw sweat-damp hair plastered to her feverish forehead. Yet, as if determined not to show weakness, she had pulled the blanket over herself.
Richard exhaled a long sigh, as though something heavy were clamped on his chest.
“Then you mean to simply endure it?”
“If I hold out a few days, it’ll pass. Kyle said it wasn’t a lethal poison.”
“You mean—you knew the soup was poisoned, and you ate it anyway?!”
His voice burst out louder than he realized. Veronica’s eyes went wide with alarm.
“I told you, the guard mustn’t know! Why do you think I ate poison in your place, if not—”
He dragged a rough hand down his face and sighed heavily. He had been wrong. Veronica hadn’t betrayed him at all. She had foolishly taken the poison instead of him.
Without hesitation, Richard unlocked the bars of his cell and stepped out. The guard, leaning against the wall, was nodding off; it looked like they had at least two safe hours.
He went straight to Veronica’s cell, opened the lock, and stepped inside.
A cool, broad hand pressed against my forehead. Opening my eyes faintly, I recognized the blurred silhouette of black hair and red eyes.
“Your hand feels so cool, Richard. It’s comforting.”
When I gave a faint smile, Richard looked down at me with worried eyes.
“My hand isn’t cool—it’s that your fever is high. I was the one who vomited after eating the sandwich, yet you’re the one showing far more severe symptoms.”
He dabbed the sweat from my face with a dry cloth, sounding puzzled.
Even in the cool air of the underground prison, the fever heat would not leave my body. The cell felt stifling with it. Fanning me gently, he pressed again:
“Why is your condition so much worse?”
“That’s because you didn’t ingest belladonna. I slipped sprouted potato into the sandwich. Sorry for making you vomit, but I had to make it look like you’d been poisoned.”
“No need to apologize. But how did you even know sprouted potatoes would cause vomiting?”
I dug into old memories. When I had fled to the Empire, drowning in debt and penniless, I’d lived in a ramshackle hut, often starving. One day, desperate with hunger, I’d found potatoes discarded at the edge of a farm—the farmer had called them “the devil’s plant,” unfit even for animals. They were sprouting, but I had eaten them anyway… and promptly vomited everything up, writhing with stomach pain. That’s how I learned.
Richard’s eyes turned sympathetic, but I only gave a faint laugh. He changed the subject, his voice low.
“Then why did you eat the soup?”
“The guard said he would check the empty bowl. To fool him, I had to finish the poisoned soup.”
Richard pressed his lips together tightly, then released them. His gaze lingered on my flushed cheeks and swollen lips, weighed down by guilt and grief.
“Please, don’t ever do this again. I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me.”
“…”
“Next time, I’d rather you betray me.”
Before he knew the truth, he had raged at me, thinking I’d betrayed him. Yet, once he realized, he nursed me with the utmost care.
Even after thinking I had deceived him, one sound of my pained breathing had been enough to bring him across the bars to care for me. His kind nature was not something he could easily discard.
But despite his attention, my fever refused to break. Richard kept wiping my brow with his coarse hands and the dry cloth.
Eventually, his face blurred from my vision. The poison dragged me toward unconsciousness.
“Stay awake, Veronica.”
“…”
“Veronica!”
“…Hah!”
His deep voice grew sharp and clear. My eyes flew open. Richard had raised his voice at last to rouse me.
Did I… drift off?
The ceiling spun dizzily above me. After blinking several times, the room steadied.
Looking down, I felt a strong, hot pressure around my hand. Richard was gripping it tightly. My hand, engulfed in both of his, was hidden completely, not even a fingertip visible.
“You haven’t gone back to your cell?”
Richard stared down at me with a face twisted in anxiety, almost panic. Meeting my eyes, he let out a visible sigh of relief.
“You didn’t wake for so long, I feared the worst. How do you feel now?”
“My head’s a little dizzy, but better than before.”
For an instant, guilt crossed his face.
“I’m sorry—for suspecting you of betrayal. And… thank you.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t ask me to do it. It was my choice.”
He was still holding my hand, apparently without realizing it. I stared at our joined hands with a strange feeling. It had been so long since I’d felt anyone’s warmth—so long that it felt foreign.
Suddenly, I realized something.
Maybe… I was just lonely for someone to stay by my side.
I had always told myself the world was something you survived in alone. But of course, being alone was lonely. It wasn’t until Richard came to Fortress that I finally had someone to talk with, to exchange feelings with. That it should happen only after ending up in prison—it was almost laughable.
Cough, cough. My dry cough made Richard’s expression stiffen. To ease his guilt, I teased him.
“To think I’d get better nursing here in prison than I ever did outside. And this hand—are you sharing your warmth with me?”
I interlaced our fingers and lifted our joined hands, making him startle. He quickly pulled away.
“This…! Ahem. You seem recovered enough. I’ll return to my cell now. Rest well.”
He tucked the blanket up to my chin, then pushed my hand beneath the covers and patted it a few times before rising.
Normally, I would have teased him with a few more silly remarks, but this time I lay quietly.
Perhaps it was the first time I’d been cared for so tenderly. Somehow Richard felt solid, reassuring. Maybe it was only the lingering fever, but my cheeks flushed, and a strange restlessness stirred inside me.
I bit my lip and closed my eyes again.
