Chapter : 17
The eyes of Ittern, caught between the two, darted back and forth busily. If Wintier tried to grab Zigkardt by the collar in anger, she would have to cling to his arm first to stop him.
A heavy silence stretched on. If anyone had seen an 8-year-old boy standing tall in front of the enraged Emperor Wintier, they would have thought they were either seeing a ghost or already dead.
Then Zigkardt put the herbs away again. The moment Wintier’s eyebrows twitched, the boy spoke in an indifferent voice.
“If Your Majesty does not believe me, then you do not have to—”
“Dad!”
Just as Wintier, furious to the point of explosion, reached out to grab Zigkardt by the collar, Ittern screamed and cut in between them.
Wintier, who had almost grabbed his only daughter by the hair, quickly withdrew his arm. His hand flew backward and struck a sturdy shelf with a loud bang.
“Ugh, that must’ve hurt.”
Ittern frowned deeply, biting her lip.
“Ittern, step aside. That insolent brat needs to be—”
“Dad! Wait! Just wait a moment. If the herbs the young duke brought really have that effect, shouldn’t we try them first?”
“That’s enough. I must have been a fool to even consider listening to a child like that. Guards!”
“If you just send the young duke away, I’ll never look at you again for the rest of my life!”
The soldiers who had rushed in at the Emperor’s shout hesitated and stopped upon hearing Ittern’s words.
Wintier stared down at his daughter with wide eyes, then opened and closed his mouth with a deeply wronged expression.
“What did you say? The rest of your life?”
“The rest of it. Until I become a wrinkled old grandmother, I won’t speak to you. I’m not joking!”
To anyone else, it would have sounded like a child’s tantrum toward her father, but Ittern was serious.
“This might be the only chance I get! I have to try everything I can!”
In this life, Zigkardt—the one who had once never even exchanged a glance with her until death—had come all the way to the Empire on his own.
He had brought hope that he might be able to save her mother.
If there was even a chance to heal her mother, she wanted to ask help from even a passing squirrel right now.
“That’s the only way to stop Father from becoming a war-crazed maniac!”
Even if she could not fix his fierce temper, perhaps that could be handled once her mother woke up.
Wintier was clearly shocked by his daughter’s declaration that she would never speak to him again.
And behind his daughter, that tiny brat quietly smirking—how infuriating it was.
If not for Ittern, he would have already grabbed him and shaken him upside down just to see everything he had eaten.
“…Dad, please. You want Mom to wake up quickly too, don’t you? That’s why you were so angry before, right?”
Deep lines formed on Wintier’s brow. Thoughts of those arrogant mages resurfaced.
Ittern hurriedly continued.
“So please, just trust the young duke’s words once. What does it matter? A few hours, or even a few dozen minutes? If Mom can open her eyes… I don’t even know what her voice sounds like, Dad.”
At that moment, unexpectedly, Ittern’s voice broke. Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes.
She had meant to persuade her father, but she truly did not know what her mother’s voice sounded like.
Once, in her previous childhood, she had asked Dora what her mother’s voice was like.
“The Empress was truly gentle when she spoke. When she sang, it was like a small bird chirping, and when she spoke, it felt like soft silk brushing against your cheeks.”
‘I remember getting angry at Dora after hearing that.’
Grief that could not be filled remained no matter how many words others offered.
If she could not see or hear her at all, it might have been easier. But knowing her mother was alive—able to be seen and touched—yet she alone did not know her voice felt unbearably unfair.
“…Fine.”
At Wintier’s words, Ittern, who had been crying, lifted her head abruptly.
Wintier spoke again.
“Let’s do as you say. So stop crying and come here.”
Sniffling, Ittern wiped her eyes and fell into her father’s arms.
Feeling the small body trembling, Wintier’s expression darkened.
Zigkardt, watching the father and daughter embrace, stood there with a strangely shocked expression.
The boldness he had shown earlier in front of the furious Emperor seemed to have vanished, replaced by something almost hollow.
“Young duke.”
Zigkardt blinked. His clear red eyes met the Emperor’s. He responded only after a long pause.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“If the princess insists this strongly, I will trust you once. Stay in the palace and use whatever you need. If you need people, take them. If you need other medicines, take them as well.”
“…”
“While you are preparing that medicine, your words will be equivalent to the Emperor’s will.”
Ittern’s eyes widened as if they might pop out.
Was he really offering such extraordinary support?
She stared blankly at her father, unable to believe what she was hearing, but Zigkardt did not seem particularly surprised.
He merely nodded slightly, as if this outcome were only natural.
‘Was he always this fearless? What happened to that timid boy from before? Was he acting? Or did he go through a rough adolescence?’
While Ittern struggled to process everything happening in rapid succession, Wintier gently set her down.
“Your eyes are swollen.”
His fingers lightly touched the corners of her eyes and quickly withdrew.
It almost seemed like he was afraid that just touching her might hurt or frighten her.
‘Father is awkward too…’
Ittern rubbed her red eyes with the back of her hand, then pressed her small face into Wintier’s palm.
Before he could even pull his hand away in surprise, she rose on her toes and hugged his neck tightly.
“Thank you, Dad.”
Wintier’s expression stiffened. It was a fierce look that would have terrified anyone else into running away, but Ittern only giggled.
‘You’re embarrassed.’
Ittern spoke.
“So… are you staying in the Imperial Palace until the young duke finishes making the medicine?”
“Yes, yes. That’s how it must be.”
This is really not going my way.
There were plenty of people who knew how to prepare herbal decoctions, so it would have been better to just send him away…
At that moment, Zigkardt, who had been standing like a statue, stepped forward.
“If it is not too much to ask, I would like to request Your Highness the Princess’s generosity.”
“…Me? I mean—me? Generosity? What kind… how?”
Zigkardt turned toward Ittern and smiled faintly. The smoothly curved eyes looked strangely mischievous.
“I would like to borrow one of the rooms in the Princess’s palace. These herbs need to be simmered for a long time, and I believe a place with the best light and air conditions would enhance their effectiveness. In that case, the Princess’s palace would be most suitable.”
