Chapter 17
Cleore was startled the moment he opened the door.
Clara’s fist was flying straight toward his stomach.
Fortunately, Cleore had quick reflexes—if it had been Isabella instead, she would have been hit and slammed against the wall immediately.
“Clara! What are you doing?”
“What about you? What are you doing?”
Clara lifted her heels and tilted her chin defiantly.
Cleore quickly closed the door, worried that Isabella, who had just fallen asleep, might wake up.
“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’?”
“How long are you planning to keep Isabella locked up? First kidnapping, now confinement?”
Cleore was dumbfounded.
Isabella came to the dining room every meal without fail. Cleore wanted to bring her food to her room when possible, but if he monopolized even that time, Clara, Angela, and Victor would never let it slide.
He thought he had been managing Isabella’s health and the family’s peace reasonably well.
But confinement?
“This won’t do. Let’s fight!”
“Not yet. Come back in about ten years.”
“Are you scared you’ll lose? If you keep avoiding the fight, I’ll take Isabella to my room!”
She spoke casually to her older brother but used the utmost respect with Isabella.
Yet, Cleore didn’t feel offended at all.
Seeing his immature little sister show such deference toward Isabella made him feel oddly pleased.
Still, what was right was right, and he needed to put this reckless brat in her place.
Especially since Clara might try to sneak Isabella away at night.
“Fine. Bring your weapon. No holding back.”
Cleore’s gaze hardened. Clara’s did too.
“I’m joining the fight too.”
At that moment, Angela appeared at the end of the hall, her footsteps clicking sharply.
Cleore, Clara, Angela, and Victor stood in the center of the training grounds.
The practice area in the rear courtyard was nothing but an empty space.
If it weren’t for the smooth stone floor and the four of them brandishing weapons, no one would have thought this place was a training ground.
“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you’re young, Clara.”
Angela’s voice was soft and sweet.
“Mother, Father. No respect for the elders, huh?”
Clara gripped her hammer tightly and shot back defiantly.
“Music to my ears.”
“You talk too much.”
Cleore muttered lazily. That was the cue—their weapons clashed simultaneously in the center.
Victor, meeting Clara’s hammer, slid backward with his sword.
Even so, Angela absorbed the blow with her spear, preventing Victor from flying out of the training grounds.
“Tch, what a waste!”
“Who taught you to attack sneakily like that?”
Victor shouted.
“I learned it from Father.”
Clara stuck out her tongue mischievously.
Victor frowned and yelled, “I’ll teach you properly!” before lunging at her.
Victor dodged Clara’s hammer and struck at her openings.
“Son, what are you looking at?”
Watching the fiery battle between her father and brother, Cleore narrowly dodged a spear aimed at him.
Cleore stepped back and looked at Angela.
In that instant, Angela aimed her spear at Cleore’s thigh.
He leapt up, stepped on her spear shaft, and swung his sword toward her neck.
Angela’s waist bent sharply.
“Impressive.”
“Mother, you’re always remarkable.”
Unlike the harsh words between the father and daughter, the battle between mother and son seemed oddly warm.
Of course, that was only in their conversation.
In reality, the mother and son fought with deadly intensity.
“Son, if you keep saving precious things, they’ll turn to crap.”
“Mother, didn’t you teach me that when many hands touch something, it’s not good to hoard it?”
The spear tip blocked Cleore’s blade.
Cleore pushed Angela with strength.
Her feet slid backward.
She smoothly redirected Cleore’s force and moved behind him.
As Angela lunged, her spear brushed Cleore’s cheek.
“No mercy, Mother.”
“Music to my ears.”
Cleore finally began to unbutton his shirt for a proper fight, but a scream interrupted them.
The four stopped immediately.
“Betty?”
Cleore looked at Clara. She nodded vigorously.
He ran.
“You giving up? Already lost?”
Victor’s voice followed him.
Winning or losing wasn’t important now.
Betty’s scream was because of Isabella. Cleore was certain.
Cleore rushed up to the floor.
The hallway in front of the bedroom was in chaos.
Betty stood there, crying uncontrollably.
“Betty! What happened?”
Cleore caught his breath and put a hand on her shoulder.
Betty turned pale and looked at Cleore.
Her eyes fell on a scar on his cheek.
“B…b…b…”
Shivering, Betty pointed to the scar and fainted on the spot.
“Good heavens, Betty!”
A maid of the same age rushed to her.
“What happened?”
Though it was unfortunate that Betty collapsed, Cleore wanted to know what had happened in his room—precisely, to Isabella.
“Miss had a nosebleed.”
Blood… a shiver ran down his spine.
Time passed.
Though not long in reality, it felt like eternity to Cleore.
In the meantime, Betty had been moved to a room, and Clara, Victor, and Angela had returned, causing a ruckus.
Clara sobbed until she finally cried openly, and Victor pulled at his hair.
Only Angela remained calm.
But everyone in the ducal mansion knew that was the most dangerous state of all.
It was an emergency.
The maids and knights sensed the tension and began contacting each other, filling the hall with people.
Their expressions were somber, as if attending a funeral.
“Brother… you should’ve stayed close.”
Amid the grief, little Clara muttered in a voice full of sorrow.
“Sorry.”
Cleore apologized.
He had left her alone.
Bleeding from her nose, pulling the cord… what must she have been thinking?
In this strange northern ducal mansion, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.
It hadn’t even been long since Joanne’s accident.
He should have been more careful, more restraining and attentive.
As Clara said, he should never have left her side.
“Sorry… I’m sorry.”
Cleore muttered an apology to the door, unsure to whom he spoke.
Then, the door slid open.
Everyone who had been bowing their heads looked up and saw Chief Physician Crinbero stepping in.
Crinbero flinched at the crowd and then twice at their sharp, piercing gazes.
“Sh-should I come back later?”
Before he finished, Cleore grabbed his arm and pushed him inside.
Crinbero ended up landing in the arms of the knights.
“See you in ten minutes, Crinbero.”
Angela’s cold expression followed Cleore into the room.
Isabella awoke suddenly, feeling something running from her nose.
She instinctively covered her nose with her hand and turned toward the window where Cleore had been.
He wasn’t there.
Luckily, she hadn’t seen anything embarrassing.
She felt around, found a handkerchief, and pressed it to her nose.
Nosebleeds during sleep were common.
There was no quick way to stop them. Waiting was the answer.
The entire white handkerchief quickly turned red.
‘That’s quite a bit.’
She thought of it casually, like noting a large breakfast portion.
She soaked a second handkerchief.
The bleeding didn’t stop.
Blood ran down her hand and dripped onto the blanket.
Red stains spread over the white sheet.
Isabella reluctantly pulled the cord.
Soon, Betty arrived.
Betty turned on the light and saw Isabella, then screamed:
“Kyaa!”
After that, so many people rushed in, the room became chaotic.
Betty held a handkerchief under Isabella’s nose, and a knight ran to fetch the physician.
Maids came in and replaced the soiled blanket with a clean one, wiping her hands with warm towels.
“Miss Isabella, did you hit your nose?”
Isabella shook her head.
Betty’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Isabella couldn’t understand why the look, which would usually seem like sympathy, felt like genuine worry.
By the time Betty had replaced the handkerchief twice, Chief Physician Crinbero arrived.
“Bring some cotton.”
Immediately, a maid ran off and returned with a basket full of cotton.
Too much, Isabella thought silently.
Crinbero rolled the cotton into a small piece and inserted it into her nose.
The cotton quickly soaked with blood, which ran onto the blanket again.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just use a handkerchief?”
Isabella held her dizzy head.
“The cotton is better. May I touch your nose, Miss?”
Isabella nodded slightly. Crinbero pinched the upper part of her nose firmly.
She frowned.
“This is the fastest way to stop it. Please endure the discomfort.”
He spoke politely, yet his pride as a physician made it clear that refusal was not allowed.
“Then, at least a handkerchief…”
“Why would you need a handkerchief?”
“To keep the blanket clean.”
Everyone in the room flinched at that.
She was bleeding so much and worrying about the blanket?
This was no ordinary young lady.
Her story must have been so tragic that she couldn’t even show her pain.
The maids glanced at one another, quietly sobbing.
Isabella realized the atmosphere in the room had shifted.
Crinbero clicked his tongue, seeing her eyes flit around.
The patient’s stability was most important.
While he understood their concern, the maids and knights hovering anxiously were unnecessary.
“Everyone, leave. Don’t let anyone in until I come out.”
Isabella’s face relaxed.
“Isabella, are you okay?”
“Miss, are you okay? I’m sorry.”
“Isabella…”
“My dear, you bled. Precious blood.”
Thanks to Crinbero’s treatment, the nosebleed stopped quickly.
He advised rest and sufficient water and said he would return tomorrow.
As soon as he left, Cleore and the ducal family poured into the room.
They couldn’t meet Isabella’s eyes, apologizing as if they were criminals.
“We’re sorry for worrying you.”
Isabella felt compelled to say something.
“Don’t apologize, my dear.”
Angela held Isabella’s hand, stroking the back of it, her eyes moist.
“Sister… I’ll catch the Red Blood Eagle. I heard if someone who bled a lot drinks its blood, it’s good!”
Cleore flicked Clara’s forehead.
“Ah! Brother!”
Clara glared at him.
“How are you going to catch a monster ten times bigger than you? You can’t even shoot arrows properly. I’ll catch it, so don’t worry.”
Clara pouted.
But Cleore was right.
Clara wasn’t skilled enough to catch the Red Blood Eagle.
It frustrated her that she couldn’t give Isabella the good medicine herself, but it was more important that Isabella took it.
Clara puffed out her cheeks and remained silent.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
The door opened. Crinbero peeked his face in.
“Miss needs absolute rest. Right now, resting is the most important thing.”
The Noverdic ducal family exchanged glances.
-
You go out.
-
Lady, you go first.
-
Mother, Father are the most uncomfortable here. They should leave first!
“Sorry again, but…”
When the family hesitated, Crinbero intervened.
All eyes focused on him.
“It’s best if everyone leaves.”
Two lives or four?
Demor, watching Crinbero from the shadows, shook his head.
