#17. Partner (3)
Sasha focused more intently than ever on treating Pavel.
Thanks to swift and accurate treatment, Pavel’s condition improved quickly.
It was pure luck she had already prepared some medicinal herbs, just in case.
She didn’t even need to argue with the physician who arrived late—thanks to the lingering effects of the obedience spell she cast on their wedding night.
The physician, impressed by Sasha’s skill, merely followed her directions like an assistant.
“…It’s done.”
Once the treatment was fully complete, Sasha gently brushed aside Pavel’s damp hair, stuck to his forehead with sweat.
He was already a child who suffered often—and this time, it was her mistake that caused him pain.
Suppressing a sigh, Sasha endured the weight in her chest, but the clueless physician broke the silence.
“I’ve been curious—how is it, young madam, that you’re so well-versed in medicine? Did you have a mentor? May I ask who you studied under—”
“That’s not something you need to know.”
Her icy tone cut him off. The doctor flinched and shut his mouth.
“Do you at least know why Pavel reacted this way?”
Though she didn’t use magic, her voice carried undeniable authority.
The physician stammered, overwhelmed by her presence, and explained Pavel’s condition:
“…Even small amounts of mushrooms cause hives and fever. If he consumes too much, his throat swells shut and he could suffocate. It’s a serious allergic reaction.”
Only then did Sasha realize: Pavel was allergic to mushrooms.
“Ha…”
A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
Such a critical detail—how could she not have known?
Because of that, she had nearly caused a tragedy.
Fury boiled in her core. She couldn’t remember being this angry since reincarnating.
Barely restraining her rage, she dismissed the physician.
Then she summoned one of the culprits—the cook.
A man in his mid-forties appeared, clad in his chef’s uniform. Half his face was covered by a scruffy beard, and his mouth curled smugly beneath it.
“You summoned me?”
His tone wasn’t outright rude, but it was far from respectful.
“Did you not know that Pavel couldn’t eat mushrooms?”
Silence.
“So you did know. Then why serve mushroom pasta?”
“…Because you instructed me to, didn’t you, young madam?”
His defiant reply made Sasha’s eyes grow cold.
It was true—she had asked for the dish.
But—
“Even so, you should’ve told me that Pavel couldn’t eat mushrooms. If you had, I would never have let it be served.”
Her throat tightened with guilt as she spoke.
Swallowing the rising emotion, she turned to look at the maid in the corner—Bonnie, the one she had previously scolded.
“You—didn’t you know either?”
Bonnie said nothing, only bowed her head.
That was answer enough.
Sasha dragged her dry hand down her face and muttered bitterly:
“You all knew… and still…”
Staring at the two who offered no excuse or remorse, Sasha declared:
“You both know exactly what you’ve done wrong.”
Still, no reply.
“Starting today, you are no longer permitted to work here. Pack your things immediately.”
“What?!”
The cook’s mouth dropped open in shock. Bonnie looked just as stunned.
Their eyes widened with disbelief.
Then—
“You can’t do that!”
Bonnie snapped, turning on Sasha.
“We were hired by Count Tula, the acting head—not you, the so-called young madam!”
“What right do you have to fire us from this backwater annex?!”
Fuming, she raised her chin and placed her hands on her hips. Her stance screamed defiance.
The cook didn’t intervene—he merely observed Sasha’s expression.
‘Is she shaking with rage? Good.’
He remembered how Bonnie had once returned fuming after being scolded by Sasha. She had complained to other staff that Sasha wasn’t as easy to handle as she seemed.
The others got nervous at first—but when Sasha didn’t do much afterward, they relaxed. They concluded she was harmless after all.
That’s what they thought—until now.
“Leave.”
Her expression was calm, but her voice—colder than ice—struck like lightning.
The tone of a ruler. Strict. Absolute.
The voice of someone who wasn’t silent because she was weak—but because she was restraining explosive fury.
Twice they were stunned: once by her wrath, and again by her control.
‘We underestimated her. She may be young, but she carries herself like nobility.’
Overwhelmed, the cook led a still-fuming Bonnie outside.
And yet—their departure felt strangely untroubled. Not like people losing their livelihood.
‘They must have someone backing them… Count Tula, most likely.’
Though the castle’s true master was Grand Duke Dmitri Volkov, he rarely visited due to the war.
Count Tula remained behind, managing everything—from personnel to finances.
Naturally, the staff feared and obeyed him, not Pavel.
But even that didn’t explain the open rudeness Sasha faced in the annex.
Pavel, despite his health, was still the duke’s only heir. Sasha, his wife.
‘Even if they see us as discarded… this level of disrespect is unacceptable.’
In the nobles’ world, a chronically ill heir was a major flaw. Rumors painted Pavel as forsaken.
Especially since the Grand Duke had moved him into the annex and made no effort to train him as heir.
He even married him to Sasha, a fallen count’s daughter with no strong family backing.
Clearly, the Grand Duke had no plans for Pavel’s future.
But still—the way the servants acted crossed the line.
Not just neglect, but open rebellion.
In Sasha’s previous life, even in a world without class hierarchy, that would’ve been grounds for dismissal.
Here, in a feudal society? This was unthinkable—unless someone told them to behave this way.
‘Someone ordered them…’
As her chest tightened, Sasha took a deep breath.
Then—
“Are you okay?”
She turned. Pavel was awake, looking at her with concern.
Still pale, but better than before.
Sasha stared at him for a long moment, then muttered:
“No… I’m not okay.”
“Huh?”
Pavel hesitated, bit his lip, and finally blurted:
“Should I go yell at that maid for you?”
He must’ve thought Sasha was upset about Bonnie.
Sasha chuckled weakly at the sweet offer.
“No, that’s not necessary.”
Pavel frowned.
He looked like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.
Then Sasha softly asked:
“Why… did you eat it?”
“…”
“You could’ve just told me you couldn’t. Why didn’t you say anything?”
The guilt she’d felt ever since he collapsed came crashing back. Her voice trembled with tears.
She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve.
And then Pavel answered:
“I just… wanted to eat it.”
“What?”
“I wanted to. That’s all.”
“So don’t make that face.”
He hadn’t eaten it to make her cry.
Uncomfortable with his own tenderness, he furrowed his brow and quickly changed the subject.
“I’ll go scold that maid.”
Sasha blinked. Pavel mumbled as if embarrassed:
“You said you’re not okay.”
Ah.
She understood what he meant.
‘He’s trying to comfort me…’
For the first time since it all began, warmth returned to her face.
Her frozen fingertips felt a little less numb.
“You don’t need to.”
“Why not? You said you’re not okay.”
“True. I’m not okay now… but I will be.”
“…?”
“Just trust me.”
Sasha smiled softly and held her hand above Pavel’s eyes, blocking the sunlight.
“For now, stop thinking. Just sleep. Rest is important when you’re sick.”
Pavel grumbled that he wasn’t tired anymore, but still didn’t resist as Sasha gently patted him to sleep.
