CHAPTER 75………………
“Lady Wintel… is pregnant?”
Baroness Miril asked in a trembling voice.
Fortunately, wasting disease was a rare condition.
Everyone knew of its existence, but very few had actually seen a patient. As such, even fewer knew its symptoms.
Baroness Miril was one of those unfamiliar with it.
Recalling Etisha’s retching, she cautiously nodded.
“So that’s what it was… Forgive me. I should have helped you sooner.”
She apologized to Etisha.
Seeing Etisha suffering before her eyes yet failing to step in had filled her with guilt.
“To ignore an expectant mother… I’m truly sorry. Instead of staying here, we should call for a doctor right away.”
“Y-yes, let’s summon a physician. Lady Wintel, I apologize for suspecting you were feigning illness.”
“Yes, rest is what you need most now.”
Each of the ladies, glancing uneasily toward Countess Montmadre, offered words of appeasement.
No matter how much Montmadre held sway over them, they couldn’t risk openly turning their backs on the Wintel family.
Especially not now that Lady Wintel was said to be with child.
If anything went wrong and she miscarried, who could bear the consequences?
There was still no definite proof that Duke Kaien was illegitimate, so it seemed wiser to retreat and watch how things unfolded.
“Come now, Countess Montmadre must be terribly shaken as well. It would be best for her to calm herself.”
At some point, Marquis Hexion had slipped to Montmadre’s side and, with practiced grace, escorted her.
“Marquis!”
The Countess was still furious, but she couldn’t very well pull at Larrienne’s hair again in front of him.
“Don’t fret, my lady. A wild foal can be tamed in time. You have far more important matters to focus on.”
“Important… matters?”
“Think broadly. Look far ahead.”
With that, Marquis Hexion led the Countess away.
Etisha, supported by Larrienne, rose to her feet.
Though she had unwillingly become a fake expectant mother, it seemed best to settle the matter firmly now.
“Thank you for your concern, ladies. Forgive me for showing such weakness. But there is no need to summon a doctor. It would be safer to return to Wintel Manor by carriage.”
“Ah, of course. The family physician will be there. That would be best.”
“Please hurry, Lady Wintel. We pray the child remains safe.”
“Yes, then…”
Etisha bowed to each of them in turn before leaving with Larrienne.
They walked toward the carriage, and once they were out of sight of the ladies, Etisha shoved away Larrienne’s support.
“Let go.”
“Tisha!”
“What were you thinking? Why suddenly appear and put me in such a difficult position?”
“I-I’m sorry. Tisha, it’s all my fault. But your face—you look awful.”
“What…?”
“Come here. Your forehead is drenched. You’re sweating so much…”
“…”
“Are you really alright? What if you collapse again? The attacks—they’re getting worse, aren’t they? They’ll only keep worsening, won’t they?”
Frantically, Larrienne wiped at Etisha’s sweat-soaked forehead with the back of her hand.
Her face was pale as though she’d seen a ghost.
“I… ugh, Tisha, what do we do? What’s going to happen to you…?”
“…”
“It’s happening now, isn’t it? If this continues, your mana will explode, and you’ll die like this…”
Etisha turned her head away to avoid her hand, but Larrienne kept following, trying to wipe her sweat.
“Haa…”
Etisha let out a weary sigh.
She wanted to push Larrienne away, but her body was undeniably weak.
Usually, once an episode passed, she would recover as if nothing had happened. But this time, lingering effects weighed on her body and clouded her head.
It felt like she was about to collapse.
I can’t…
She staggered toward the carriage.
If she fainted here, a doctor would surely be summoned. Then her disease would be exposed, and the lie about pregnancy would unravel.
Clinging desperately to consciousness, she forced herself onward. Larrienne’s voice chased after her.
“Tisha, where are you going? Tisha!”
“…”
“Don’t go. Please.”
“…”
“If you’re leaving, then I’m coming with you. I’ll take you there.”
Larrienne ran to her side and supported her.
This time, Etisha couldn’t brush her off.
In the end, Etisha fainted.
After holding out until she boarded the Wintel carriage, she finally lost consciousness.
“T-Tisha…”
Beside her, Larrienne sobbed, at a loss.
To her eyes, Etisha looked so frail that death seemed near.
“What in heaven’s name… What happened, dear daughter-in-law!”
Lady Cirrelege rushed in, climbing into the carriage with alarm.
She had been waiting near the Wintel carriage for Etisha to return, only to see Larrienne half-carrying her, clearly ill.
When she hurried after them, Etisha was unconscious, and Larrienne was crying. The sight left Cirrelege reeling.
“Why, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt? What happened to her?”
She pressed Larrienne for answers. Larrienne, voice choked with sobs, burst out:
“…Can’t you see with your own eyes?”
“…?”
“She’s sick… Damn it. She’s sick…”
Larrienne roughly wiped her tears.
In her anger, she wanted to blurt out everything.
That Etisha had wasting disease. That she was dying. To shout it to the whole world.
Once, she had even tried to use it to threaten Etisha—so really, what stopped her from saying it now?
“…”
She bit her lips until they bled.
By now, she knew full well how things stood.
Etisha hated her.
Truly hated her.
So much that she had abandoned her own family and run away.
But Wintel was different.
Blood trickled down Larrienne’s lips.
Etisha might despise Larrienne Heinz… but not Wintel.
Not Kaien Wintel. Not Cirrelege Wintel.
Etisha cared for them.
“I don’t know.”
Larrienne shook her head.
Earlier, she had let her emotions get the better of her and caused Etisha trouble. But not this time.
“One day, Tisha will tell you herself. Until then, nothing has happened.”
“…”
“Do you understand me? Nothing has happened. Until she speaks first—no one knows anything.”
“…”
“So, Madam Cirrelege, you must also pretend not to know. Don’t let anything slip.”
Wiping her tears, Larrienne stood abruptly and opened the carriage door.
Now that Cirrelege was here, she had no reason to stay at Etisha’s side.
Etisha would surely prefer her mother-in-law’s presence anyway.
“Wait.”
Cirrelege stopped her as she was about to leave.
“When did this start?”
“Well… if it were me, instead of asking when it began, I’d ask how much time is left.”
“…Good heavens.”
Cirrelege covered her mouth with her hand.
“…”
Larrienne glanced at her, then stepped outside.
“Lady Heinz.”
Cirrelege called after her with a brief farewell.
“Thank you. For letting me know that my daughter-in-law… is perfectly fine.”
Larrienne did not reply.
She only shut the carriage door and walked away.
In the distance, a wolf’s howl echoed.
She wandered aimlessly, tears streaming ceaselessly down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground.
She wanted to weep until she was empty—where no one could see.
“Crying again?”
Then, the one voice she least wanted to hear.
Without looking back, Larrienne shouted harshly:
“Get lost!”
Buis Hexion. Somehow, he had followed her.
He smiled in satisfaction, as though her reaction amused him greatly, and spoke lazily with his arms crossed.
“Come now, I told you before—show proper respect when addressing a marquis, Larrienne.”
“Shut it! Shut your damn mouth and get lost, you bastard!”
“How cruel. And after I even helped you today.”
“Who asked for your help? You barged in on your own—pregnant? As if! Tisha pregnant, what a joke!”
Fury drove her to whirl around. Her face was a mess, but she didn’t care.
Meeting Hexion’s eyes, she saw him smile chillingly.
“I know. It’s wasting disease, isn’t it?”
“What did you say, you bastard?”
“Seems I’m the only one who noticed. The symptoms are advanced—nearing the end.”
“…”
“Until now, she managed her daily life. But soon, the disease will progress rapidly. The attacks will grow shorter apart. Left as is, she’ll writhe in pain until death. Perhaps it would be kinder if someone ended it for her.”
“What the hell do you mean? ‘End it kindly’? Are you telling me to kill Tisha?”
“Who knows.”
The Marquis shrugged.
“If you ever need my help, just say the word.”
Larrienne didn’t hesitate—she swung at him.
Her clenched fist struck his smooth cheek with a sharp crack.
“Kh!”
Staggering back, Hexion grimaced.
“You bastard. If Tisha dies, it’ll be by my hand.”
“That hurt, Larrienne.”
“You deserve worse.”
“So violent…”
Raising her fist again, she advanced. Hexion recoiled in distaste, blood trickling from his split lip.
“Stop that. I told you, I hate blood.”
Wiping the blood with his fingers, he grimaced, nauseated.
“Ha.”
Larrienne looked at him in disbelief.
Claiming to have slaughtered the Hexion family to seize his title, yet professing to hate blood?
Then… was he serious earlier? That he lacked skill in combat, and avoided wolf hunting out of fear of blood?
“Well then. From now on, every time I see you, I’ll beat you until you bleed.”
Rolling up her sleeves in earnest, she advanced. The Marquis lifted his hands in surrender, wearing a look of disgust.
