RVMPT Chapter 129

Chapter 129

Harold threw his sword toward the direction the arrow had come from. There was a thud—the hidden shooter was hit and fell. He sensed no more killing intent.

“Ha…”

Kaiden’s face twisted—his plan had gone wrong.

From Kaiden’s reaction, Harold confirmed there were no more hidden subordinates. And Kaiden himself was in no condition to threaten Diana; even staying conscious looked hard.

Diana wasn’t hurt.

Letting his guard down slightly, Harold suddenly noticed something wrong in his own body and gave a short, ironic laugh. So Kaiden intended to kill Diana for sure.

He didn’t know what poison it was, but the arrow had been coated with a powerful toxin.

If Diana—without her powers—had been struck, she would already be dead. As Harold felt relieved that she hadn’t been hit, his body pitched forward.

“Harold…?”

Diana instinctively grabbed his back and froze. Her palm felt wet, and her fingertips bumped against something hard.

She saw the arrow lodged in Harold’s back, then looked down at her hand.

Red.

Blood ran down her hand and dripped onto the floor.

Right—when she’d thrown herself into his arms, she’d glimpsed something flying by.

So Harold had taken the arrow for her…

“Ah…”

Her voice trembled like a shaking leaf. Her tongue felt stiff; words wouldn’t come out properly.

“Please wait! I’ll bring a physician! Do not pull the arrow out—removing it could cause heavy bleeding!”

Arthur’s pale face flashed past as he sprinted off, shouting. His urgency snapped Diana back to herself.

This wasn’t the time to freeze. She had to heal him—heal him now.

She quickly cupped Harold’s face, but her holy power stayed silent. In that split second, she realized she had forgotten that her power was gone. She pulled out her pocket watch.

There were about 10 minutes left until it would be two full weeks without her power.

Why are there still ten whole minutes left…?

Her impatience made her bite her lip harder. Harold’s body was getting hotter. Even the man who stayed calm under torture was struggling to hold himself up.

Except for the times when his illness caused severe fits, she had never seen him this weak.

And she couldn’t heal him right away…

Her mouth felt parched with helplessness, and fear slammed into her.

What if Harold dies like this? What if, in these ten minutes, I lose the chance to save him forever?

Time crawled, but his condition worsened fast.

Dark thoughts kept flooding in no matter how she fought them. She could clearly picture his fiery body going cold and stiff, Harold lying motionless, never to move again.

…No.

She couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t want to lose him.

“Diana.”

He lifted his head; their eyes met. His thick thumb pressed lightly to her lips. Only then did she feel the sting where she’d bitten them.

“I’m fine.”

He smiled with his eyes, tugging the corners of his mouth with a familiar, playful ease.

“I won’t die. I have to live to a hundred with my wife—I can’t die yet.”

“…”

“Where would I go, leaving my lovely wife behind?”

His face smiled as usual, but there was no strength in his voice.

Diana’s face twisted; the tears she’d held back burst out.

“I meant to reassure you, but I made you cry,” he said wryly, squinting. He reached inside his jacket for a handkerchief.

It was stained red—the blood from fighting had soaked through. He clicked his tongue.

“Useless to carry it, like this.”

Diana caught his hand before he put it away.

“Diana?”

“….”

She clenched the useless handkerchief and wiped her tears with her sleeve.

Get a grip.

He was the one in pain; this wasn’t the time for her to be comforted.

Do what I can do.

Even without power—no more crying. She steadied herself.

“I’m not scared. I’m not worried that you’ll die. Because you won’t.”

Her fingers trembled; she hid them by making a fist, swallowing against the lump in her throat over and over.

Eyes brimming, she forced them wide and thought about what she could do now. Then she grabbed a fallen sword, slit the hem of her skirt, and made strips.

She wrapped and pressed the wound as best she could with the makeshift bandage.

A cheer rose in the distance.

She thought she heard them chanting Andrew’s name.

“Sounds like it’s over,” Harold murmured.

“…Looks that way.”

Harold’s forehead was slick with cold sweat. Seeing the pallor of his lips—a color she’d hoped never to see again—Diana bit the inside of her cheek.

“Harold, are you sleepy?”

His eyes were half-lidded.
“A little tired.”

She wasn’t a doctor, but she’d heard you mustn’t let a badly injured person fall asleep—they might never wake up.

“Talk with me for just ten minutes. Don’t fall asleep. Can you do that?”

“I’ll do whatever my wife says. If I fall asleep here, your poor eyelids might burst from crying.”

He carefully touched the puffy skin under her eyes. His rough fingertips made the sensitive, swollen skin sting a little.

It hurts.

Even this small pain stung—how much must he be hurting now?

She fought down a fresh surge of tears. Forcing a smile, she asked,

“When we go home—soon—what do you want to do?”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? I want to eat with you. A nice dinner by our chef, dessert while we share our day, then a walk, goodnight, sleeping together… and in the morning, a warm good-morning.”

Simple, everyday things. That was what she wanted most—to enjoy ordinary life with him again.

Thinking back, those were the happiest times. There were hard days and confusing moments, but the more she recalled, the more the happy memories stood out.

“I want that too. Anything else you want?”

“Hmm… Let’s travel. Our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon, huh? That reminds me—you once tried to run away from me.”

“Ugh… Then not to the Prolang Kingdom…?”

“Anywhere else in mind?”

“…Not really.”

“Then Prolang it is. It might be fun to see the place you planned to flee to.”

“Are you planning to tease me there like you’re doing now?”

“You pick up on things fast when it’s like this.”

“Ahem!”

Their talk felt almost like a normal, everyday conversation. But the air reeked of blood, and a glint of red showed at Harold’s lips whenever he spoke.

His words grew slower. From time to time his throat worked hard, as if swallowing back blood.

“If it’s hard, lean on me more. Just don’t fall asleep.”

“…Pardon my weight,” he said, resting fully against her.

She checked the time.

Three minutes left.

Only three minutes—but his condition was worsening too quickly to hope lightly.

Fear pressed in—fear of the loss rushing toward her, fear of losing the most precious person.

The tears she’d held back rolled down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and asked,

“D-do you have anything you want?”

“To eat with you, have tea, share our days, sleep and wake together. And go on our honeymoon.”

“…That’s what I said.”

“What you want is what I want.”

Two minutes left.

“Then—other than what I said?”

“…”

“H-Harold?”

Her heart dropped. She looked frantically—his eyes blinked slowly.

“…Hard to think of something on the spot. But there is something I want to say.”

“What is it?”

“I love you, Diana.”

One minute left.

“I have something I want to say too.”

Diana held his face in both hands.

“Harold…”

At first, she’d tried to save him because she needed money. Soon after, it was because of the first bond she’d formed in this world—liking him, pitying him.

But without realizing, the meaning of saving him had changed.

Now she knew exactly what it was.

“I love you.”

She kissed him.

And then—holy power surged back into her body.