“Mary. You’re in the way. Step aside.”
“Ugh… Yes. I’m sorry.”
Thankfully, the doctor’s firm tone managed to reel in Mary’s spiraling emotions.
She quickly retreated, eyes still watery, glaring holes into the back of the doctor’s head with the intensity of someone unwilling to tolerate even the smallest mistake.
Completely unaware of this, the doctor calmly began checking Louisa’s pupil response, her breathing, and then began questioning her.
“Did you eat or drink anything unusual today, aside from your regular meals?”
“No.”
“And how did you feel before vomiting blood?”
“It just suddenly felt hot inside, and then… I spat up blood.”
At Louisa’s calm response, the doctor’s expression grew grave.
“Was this your first time experiencing such a symptom?”
“Yeah.”
Louisa’s face, in contrast to his, remained utterly composed. Looking rather troubled by Mary and the doctor’s concern, she sighed softly.
“Have you felt any discomfort before? A sore stomach, a dull ache—no matter how minor, please share everything.”
“Nothing at all…”
“…It seems we’ll have to monitor your condition more. You have symptoms, but without a clear cause, I can’t say anything definitive.”
The doctor wiped the sweat forming on his brow. He’d thought waking her would provide some clues, but the more they spoke, the more useless he felt.
Louisa eyed the doctor, curious about the tension on his face.
‘Well, of course he’s clueless. It’s not an illness.’
In the original novel, this body didn’t suffer from a disease. It was a unique constitution that, when exposed to demonic energy, instinctively expelled it by vomiting blood.
The only treatment described was the regular intake of holy water. But Louisa didn’t want to “cure” this constitution. In fact, in the original plot, she used it to try and usurp the heroine’s title of “Saint,” believing all the love and attention would then be redirected to her.
It was a massive delusion, one that led to her downfall and punishment for impersonating the Saint.
Of course, she hadn’t acted alone—gossipy opportunists and zealots helped stir the pot, spreading rumors like “Isn’t she chosen by the gods too?” or “She purifies miasma—surely she’s also a Saint!”
‘I need to stay quiet. If I get swept up in that mess, my dream of being a rich bum is over.’
Louisa pressed her fingers against her eyes.
‘And of course, this is happening before the real Saint appears. If my condition gets exposed now, those busybodies will start spreading rumors again.’
Just imagining it was enough to give her a headache. In the original story, the situation had escalated when no one could identify the cause of her vomiting blood. Word had spread fast, and things had spiraled out of control.
‘If it weren’t for having to meet with Rafael, I’d just stay indoors drinking holy water and call it a day… Ugh, so annoying.’
She lowered her hands from her eyes. The pressure had moistened them just enough to glisten like raindrops on violet petals.
And to the doctor, who had just been doubting whether she was crying, the image confirmed his suspicion.
She’s trying to hide her tears.
“It’s fine. I’m not in pain, and it only happened once.”
“You coughed up blood! How is that fine?! That’s not fine at all!” Mary flared up, stepping beside the doctor.
Her face all but screamed she was ready to grab someone by the collar.
“Y-Yes. Indeed. The cause is unclear, which makes it even more dangerous,” the doctor added, feeling strangely overpowered by Mary despite being the elder and professional. He still nodded in agreement.
Their misunderstanding only deepened.
Mary and the doctor both now believed Louisa was forcing herself to stay strong for everyone else’s sake—and their hearts ached accordingly.
“…Now that I think of it, maybe my corset was too tight? Could that have caused something?”
Unaware of the growing misconception, Louisa hurried to wrap up the conversation.
“If it’s the corset, it can put pressure on your organs, which might be harmful. But vomiting blood is rare in such cases, so I can’t say for sure.”
“But it’s possible, right?”
“Well… yes, but if organs were misaligned to that degree, you’d feel—”
“Then let’s just monitor it for now.”
“Pardon?”
“It only happened once, and I feel fine now. Isn’t it enough to just keep an eye on things?”
“…That would be problematic.”
“Then maybe I should just drink some holy water. If my insides are in bad shape, that might help, right?”
“Hmm… In cases of internal injury, holy water is sometimes administered. Each noble house gets a regular supply from the Temple, so we’d have to ask the Duke for it.”
“Great. I’ll ask him myself. That’s all I need to do, right?”
The doctor hesitated, but Louisa’s firm gaze left him with no room to argue. He slowly nodded.
“And one more thing. If the Duke asks, just say I fainted because of the corset, okay?”
“Excuse me? I’m supposed to report to him immediately upon his return.”
Ah, he’s still in the capital? I thought he’d already left for the North.
Given the frequent monster outbreaks in the northern regions, she’d assumed he was already on the move. Louisa hid her inner surprise and replied calmly:
“Please. I want to tell him myself. If he hears I coughed up blood, it’ll just give him one more thing to worry about. Just say I wasn’t feeling well and needed some holy water. I’ll explain later.”
The doctor, uncomfortable with lying, nonetheless couldn’t help but feel sympathetic toward Louisa, who seemed more worried about the Duke than her own body.
People really do forget quickly. Just a short while ago, Louisa had been considered a cold and difficult young lady. But seeing her now—so vulnerable—it was hard to believe she was the same person.
‘Perhaps she kept people at a distance because she didn’t want to be hurt… Maybe that’s why she made such a drastic choice back then…’
Not knowing the full story behind the engagement, the doctor’s misconceptions only grew deeper. He opened his mouth to speak, then glanced nervously behind Louisa.
What is he looking at?
Louisa followed his gaze.
Huh? That person is…
At that moment, the curtain was pulled back to reveal a man with black hair, glasses, and a sorrowful expression.
“…Louisa. I’m sorry.”
It was Damian—Louisa’s older brother—and her first time seeing him since possessing this body.
He was a handsome man with sharp features and an intellectual look, yet his expressions were surprisingly warm and expressive.
Oddly enough, it seemed that everyone else had known he was there except her. Both Mary and the doctor looked on the verge of tears at his sudden appearance.
…Wait, are they actually crying?
The whole situation felt like a shift in genre—like she should be lying in a casket with lilies in her hands. Louisa quietly watched their melodrama unfold.
“It’s been a while… I tried to keep my distance, thinking you might not want to see me, but I was so worried today I couldn’t help myself. I snuck in. I’m sorry.”
“…”
“I think I misunderstood you. I just wanted to set you on the right path because I was afraid you’d go astray… but maybe that was arrogant of me. You care so much more for others than I realized…”
“I see…”
If she didn’t say something, he’d probably go on talking all night. Louisa gave a vague response, not really listening to a word.
From what she recalled, Damian had always cared more about Louisa than the Duke did. But she had hated him anyway, finding him annoying and overbearing.
He might’ve been the only one to say anything affectionate, but to her, he’d been nothing but a nag.
“I’m sorry I misunderstood you all this time…”
Louisa’s eyes began to droop.
Mary, now crying into a handkerchief of unknown origin, sobbed quietly. The doctor, pressing a finger to his nose as if he might sniffle too, turned away.
In the center of it all, Damian shed elegant tears with his handsome face as if performing in a tragedy.
“Louisa… Could you forgive your pathetic brother this once?”
The emotional air dragged on longer than expected, and the longer it did, the foggier Louisa’s mind became.
He’s not nagging, but he sure talks a lot…
Sleep had been creeping up on her for a while now. Her eyes drooped halfway.
She rubbed them tiredly, just like before.
“Ugh…”
Damian’s violet eyes trembled with emotion—utterly moved. His gaze was full of tears, unlike Louisa’s drowsy, dry ones.
Ugh, I really can’t hold it anymore… But why should I? I’m the patient. I can just go to sleep.
And with that, Louisa’s consciousness floated away like a cut kite, drifting off into peaceful slumber.
😂😂😂
Did she just fall asleep on cue? 😂