Chapter 16
“Doctor?”
The people lined up in front of Isabella, looking completely intimidated, didn’t look like doctors at all.
They looked more like prisoners captured from a battlefield.
Tattered clothes here and there, fearful expressions, eyes flickering nervously.
“The journey to the north must have been rough.”
Cleor placed both hands on Isabella’s shoulders to reassure her.
The doctors frowned, apparently dissatisfied with Cleor’s answer.
It wasn’t that the journey north had been rough—it was the person who came to fetch them who was intimidating.
“Demor.”
Just hearing that name made the doctors shiver.
“Yes, did you call me?”
“You’re said to be famous?”
Demor’s reply confirmed it.
These were indeed renowned doctors.
Demor had gathered them all, people well-known in territories bordering the northern frontier.
Each had expertise in different fields.
Some were said to excel at remedies for colds, others were skilled in treating fractures, and some were experienced with pregnancy and childbirth.
“You’ve probably been examined enough at the Count’s mansion, but the doctors here might be different. Isabella, you should undergo a checkup.”
Isabella let out a small groan.
Contrary to Cleor’s words, Isabella had never received a proper examination at the Helsington Count’s mansion.
Except when she first started falling ill as a child, that is.
When the symptoms of a cursed person appeared, the doctors of the Helsington territory hesitated to examine her.
Things might have been different if the Count had taken active interest, but he was indifferent.
All that happened was that his butler Ethan would report Isabella’s symptoms and bring back some medicine.
Though she had considered it a favor, Isabella now knew the truth.
The Helsington Count cared not for her well-being but for the reputation of the family.
“Th-then, I-I-I’ll undergo the checkup.”
A doctor who stammered as if unsure whether he could even conduct a proper examination stepped forward.
When he took Isabella’s hand, Cleor flinched violently.
“Hyek!” The doctor, startled, let go of her hand.
“Can’t you examine without touching her?”
“Ah, th-that’s because I need to check her pulse directly…”
“It’s okay, Cleor. Illness doesn’t spread by touch.”
“What?”
Isabella misunderstood.
Cleor simply didn’t want anyone else touching her body, even a doctor.
She seemed to think Cleor was worried for the doctor.
“Isabella, I know better than anyone that this isn’t contagious. I’ve touched your body countless times, even held you unclothed.”
Cleor spoke loudly, as if for the doctors to hear.
The line of doctors and Demor turned red in the face and stared off into the distance.
“Cleor!”
Isabella protested quietly in embarrassment, and Demor let out a sigh.
It seemed the examination was going to take a while.
Isabella sighed as she looked at the mountain of medicine piled on the table.
“You said I have to take this after meals. And then that yellow medicine, right?”
Cleor had memorized the confusing order of her medications perfectly.
He waited until Isabella finished all her medicine before offering her cherries preserved in honey.
Only after she had a taste did Cleor begin his work.
It had been three days since Isabella shared a room with Cleor.
She had nothing in particular to do.
She simply ate the meals delivered faithfully from the Duke’s mansion, always with the family, and spent most of her time lying in bed or staring at the ceiling.
When the midday sun was pleasant, Cleor would carry her to the window to bask in it.
He would seat her where the sunlight was good, place a heater nearby, wrap a thick blanket around her shoulders, and serve her warm tea—all by himself.
Perhaps because of his devoted care, Isabella gradually felt her condition improving.
‘But dying can’t be postponed, can it?’
According to the Count’s records, no cursed person had lived past the age of twenty. The last record was from over a hundred years ago.
What was the use of taking these medicines?
Even Cleor’s devoted care felt burdensome.
She felt she had to make him understand that the medicine and treatment were meaningless.
But why was he being so good to her?
Could this, like the northern treatments he mentioned before, be a cultural trait of the north?
To give one’s all to a fiancée.
She watched him carefully as he sat in front of her, flipping through reports.
Because his head was bowed, she couldn’t see his obsidian-black eyes.
Instead, his tall, straight nose caught her attention.
Cleor, absorbed in his work, gave off an exceptional aura.
“Do you need anything?”
Sensing her gaze, Cleor asked bluntly.
His words contrasted sharply with his overly kind actions.
“I don’t need anything.”
“You keep staring.”
“Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry.”
It was clear he was being kind out of a sense of duty.
What other reason could there be?
How long would this kindness last?
“I’m fine being alone.”
“I’m fine even if it’s just the two of us.”
“You looked busy.”
Barack’s report said they had amputated Joan’s rotting arm and were about to cut off the left leg next.
Cleor had added to the report: “Even with crutches, the punishment must continue,” and slammed the report shut.
“I’m not busy now.”
He propped his chin and looked in the direction Isabella was looking.
When Isabella closed her mouth, the bedroom fell silent.
“What are you staring at so intently?”
Nothing in particular.
But she felt compelled to answer.
“What about the snow?”
At that moment, snow was falling gently. The white flakes were large and soft, like cotton balls.
“How is it, the snow?”
How is it what?
Isabella looked at Cleor.
As she stared, his face flushed slightly.
Was he warm?
“You mean, how do I feel about the snow?”
“Yes, how does it feel seeing the snow?”
Seeing how it felt?
Isabella gazed at the bare trees in the garden.
All the clothes that had covered them through spring, summer, and fall were gone, now standing under the cold sky, feeling the snow.
“How cold it looks… lonely.”
Like me.
She heard Cleor take a sharp breath.
After that, neither of them spoke.
The next morning, Isabella slept in late for the first time in a while.
Cleor, who had pretended he would sleep alongside her, quietly left after she fell asleep and returned before she woke.
He thought Isabella wouldn’t notice his nighttime excursions, but she was sensitive enough to hear him coming and going.
However, last night she had slept so deeply she hadn’t heard a thing.
She was becoming accustomed to the north.
A bad sign.
“Isabella, are you awake?”
Cleor appeared, doing his best to help her adapt to the north.
He carried a basin of warm water.
After placing it on the nightstand, Cleor helped Isabella sit up.
He watched as she dipped her hands in the warm water and washed her face.
“You can stop now.”
“Stop what?”
Isabella took the towel he offered and wiped her face.
“Attending to me. You’ve learned the northern traditions well, so you can stop.”
“Traditions?”
Cleor couldn’t understand what she meant.
She lightly nodded.
“You’re being good to me because of northern tradition, right?”
A snort of laughter escaped him.
How could she make such a ridiculous misunderstanding?
There was no such tradition in the north.
Northern men were generally cold due to the harsh environment.
Northern women were the same.
Even married couples had nearly entirely separate lives.
In the north, spouses lived their own lives and shared childcare—a partnership of sorts.
“I think it’s tradition.”
Cleor lied.
He thought saying this would ease her mind.
“As the heir of a northern family, it’s my duty to uphold traditions.”
Cleor slid his hand beneath Isabella’s knees.
Perhaps reassured by his touch, her hand around his neck relaxed slightly.
“The sunlight is good. They say getting sunlight in the morning improves your condition.”
Contrary to his words, the sun hadn’t appeared.
The sky was dark, and snow poured heavily.
But Isabella didn’t point it out.
She sat by the window as Cleor guided her. She watched casually as he drew the curtains.
When he opened the window, Isabella’s eyes widened.
The snow fell gently on the trees, now adorned with colorful clothes.
When did he do all that…?
No, why did he…?
“It’s already cold. No need to see even more coldness. How does it look? Warm?”
He asked attentively.
The white snow fell like petals over the knitted garments.
On the red, the white flowers melted, making the tree appear even redder.
Thus, yellow and red flowers bloomed in the duke’s garden. Fresh green leaves appeared as well.
In the middle of winter, spring had arrived.
Isabella’s heart skipped a beat.
Warm?
Of course.
She even felt herself growing warm inside.
“I hope you like it.”
Her eyes, full of awe, were answer enough, but she wanted to hear it in words.
Isabella couldn’t hear Cleor.
In this magical scene, her mind went blank. Everything felt distant, and only the vivid petals were visible.
Everything felt unreal.
Her heart pounded, yet her breath was steady.
“Isabella?”
When she didn’t answer for a long time, Cleor looked at her.
The moment their eyes met, tears streamed down Isabella’s cheeks.
That day, a magic meant solely for Isabella unfolded, and her heart cracked.
She realized the small crack was widening, threatening to shatter her heart.
A bad sign.
The fewer good memories, the better.
She didn’t want to grow fond of the north.
