IDNT 14

Chapter 14

Layla stared at the glass teapot Rainier had brought, which contained medicine. When he poured some into a small teacup and brought it over, she pouted.

“I think I can only drink it if I’m alone.”

“Then I’ll have to feed it to you.”

“I can drink it by myself…”

Watching him casually shake the teaspoon, Layla thought he was truly a formidable opponent.

And she still couldn’t figure out what this cold-blooded man’s true purpose was for sneaking into the Aviere family’s estate.

At this point, could it really be that killing her was his goal? If so, maybe it would be better to just kick him out, even if it meant losing the so-called blood supply she needed.

But he was her only antidote right now, so she had no choice.

There was no cure for the Mermaid’s Tear poison. The only antidote was royal blood.

“Ah.”

“I said I can drink it—mph…”

Layla had no choice but to swallow the spoonful of medicine that entered her mouth.

“This tastes… different.”

“Yes. I re-prescribed it myself.”

“Oh… But why does it taste so fishy?”

“Because I re-prescribed it.”

“Now that I look at it, the color’s weird too. Why is it so black?”

“Because I re-prescribed it.”

His mechanical responses made Layla sink deeper into gloom. She couldn’t refuse what he was giving her, not in this situation. With that thought, she reluctantly accepted more.

“Ah.”

How thorough he was—she had to open her mouth obediently and accept spoonful after spoonful of medicine he fed her.

“You spilled some.”

“Yes.”

When he wiped her chin with his hand, Layla gave him a long look.

“I thought you said hands are dirty.”

“I’m a doctor, so they’re clean.”

Quack.

She thought that, but reminded herself she wasn’t in a position to argue, and let out a small sigh.

“Your hands are trembling so much, Rain.”

“Because I drank.”

“Again? Feels like you drink every day.”

“I drink every day.”

Layla looked at him giving such offhand replies and recalled the original story.

‘Your Majesty, why are you saying random things like this?’

‘I… do that when I’m nervous.’

Was he nervous because he was thinking of killing her?

Layla stopped staring at Rainier and lowered her gaze, focusing instead on the spoon entering her mouth.

Then suddenly, she became aware of his breathing and looked up at him. Their eyes met—and he dropped the spoon.

“Ugh… What’s wrong?”

“You suddenly glared at me.”

Maybe because he dropped the spoon, the inky-black medicine left a long streak down her negligée.

“I wasn’t glaring.”

“Yes.”

When Layla looked at him again, he deliberately turned his gaze away. She thought he was acting even stranger than in the original and brushed the spilled liquid from her clothes with a handkerchief.

“I don’t want any more.”

“That’s not allowed.”

“I’m full.”

“Just a little more.”

There was still enough left in the cup to pool at the bottom. Seeing him shake the cup, Layla reluctantly gave in and took more.

Only after she finished everything did he reach out toward her face.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking if anything was left on your chin.”

Then he stood up from the bed, gathered the belongings he’d brought, and glanced at her.

Layla had been watching him warily for a while now, so everything he did seemed suspicious.

“My lady.”

“Yes?”

Having packed his things, Rainier looked straight at her and spoke.

“From now on, you must trust only me in this mansion.”

His confident tone made Layla realize the real meaning behind it: Don’t trust me.

“Yes, I’ll trust you, Rain.”

She nodded and smiled faintly as she said it.

At her smile, his expression instantly turned icy as he headed out the door.

He left.

As soon as he did, Layla pounded her chest, trying to vomit up what she had swallowed.

“Ugh…!”

But nothing came out. It was as if her body had absorbed it already.

“What do I do now…”

She sighed, staring at the bed.

At this rate, her only option might be to use marriage with Sonnet as an excuse to leave this house.

With that thought, she glanced at the stains on her clothes again. The medicine had clearly been black when she drank it, but the spot she wiped now appeared as a red blotch.

“Isn’t this even more dangerous?”

She rubbed the mark on her chest and let out another sigh.

That evening, Layla was summoned to dinner.

Normally, her excuse of being ill would have worked, but today Sonnet Bruce had requested to join them for dinner because he had business to discuss.

Layla considered feigning sickness and firmly refusing, but she reminded herself she needed Sonnet and went.

Oddly enough, she felt much better today. Before, even walking was difficult, but now she could manage walking. Just not running—it was a vague, in-between state.

“Layla.”

Sonnet, waiting at the dining room entrance, beamed as soon as he saw her and approached.

“Sonnet.”

Layla grabbed his hand before he could take hers and leaned on him like a cane.

“Layla?”

“I missed you.”

Conscious of the dining room setting, she slowly hugged him.

She had planned to throw herself into his arms, but her legs were weak. If she tried that, they’d both fall, so she had no choice but to approach him cautiously and hug him that way.

“Me too.”

Hearing his voice tremble, Layla pulled back. He clearly had his own desires regarding her.

She still needed to confirm whether he truly had a mistress, though she didn’t trust him anyway. She trusted Hugo even less—that was why she wanted to verify.

“Could you hug me one more time?”

Sonnet asked as he hugged her again. Layla softly said okay and let it happen.

His large hands against her back felt uncomfortable. The trembling she sensed through her clothes seemed suspicious.

“When will you go in?”

“Ah…”

Layla jumped at the voice. It was Rainier, watching her and Sonnet with a scowl like he had seen something intolerable. He frowned deeply and spoke.

“Go inside.”

“How rude, Rain.”

“Hugging in front of all the servants is quite rude enough, Lord Bruce.”

With that, he separated Layla and Sonnet with a cold expression, glanced at Sonnet dismissively, and strode inside.

“Don’t be angry. Rain’s just worried about me.”

“…Okay.”

At her words, Sonnet nodded and held her hand.

“Let’s go in.”

“Mm.”

Layla followed, forcing a bright smile.

Inside were the Count and Countess, as well as Sieber and Hugo. And Rainier.

“You’re late, Layla.”

“Father.”

Layla smiled radiantly at her father, as if nothing was wrong.

In her past life, she’d adored the Count. Her desire to live outweighed any resentment.

It was the same now. If smiling was the price of survival, she could smile as much as needed.

“I asked her to come in a little later.”

“You did, Lord Bruce? Ha ha, well done.”

Layla deliberately ignored Hugo, who was slouched in his seat, and sat down.

Normally, she should have sat closer to the Count—she was his first child, whereas Sieber was the daughter of his mistress.

But now, the seat nearest the Count belonged to the Countess, and opposite her sat Sieber, with Hugo beside her.

Next to the Countess was Rainier, then Layla. Across from her sat Sonnet, as if he wanted to face her.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had dinner like this.”

“It has, Father.”

Layla spoke cheerfully, and the Count smiled back at her with delight.

“How’s your health these days?”

“I’m better since Rain came. He’s very skilled.”

“Is that so?”

“She’s faking it.”

The one interrupting the father-daughter conversation was the Countess.

“See? She feels better now that Lord Sonnet is here.”

“Layla’s like that sometimes. She uses her illness as an excuse one time too many.”

Joining in was Hugo. Sieber lightly elbowed him, as if to stop him, while smiling all the same.

Even after what happened with Rainier last time, he acted as if nothing had happened.

“The Count is truly kind.”

“You’re still as blunt as ever, young Lord Ronald.”

“Thanks to that, you didn’t fall for her act.”

At Hugo’s words, the Count gave an awkward smile and looked at Layla. But she didn’t want to respond the way she once did.

‘I’m really sick. Really! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?’

She truly was dying. She was then, and she was now.

But because everyone treated her as an overly sensitive hypochondriac, the Count never realized the truth.

He’d never even seen her cough up blood from the slightest shock.

“She even told me the other day that she didn’t have long to live, so I should marry her.”

Hugo’s remark earned a “Why would you say that?!” from Sieber, who hit him hard on the shoulder. The others all smiled like it was a funny joke.

“Hugo’s so witty. Right, dear?”

“Ha ha. Yes, indeed.”

“Hugo, that’s not funny. Stop it. Why do you keep picking on Layla?”

Even while pretending to scold him, Sieber chimed in.

“What do you think, Rain? Is she faking it?”

At Sieber’s question, Rainier glanced at Layla. She figured he must feel nervous sitting here disguised as a commoner among nobles—that was why she asked.

Seeing that, Rainier smirked and answered.

“No.”