Chapter 47
Plita reached out her small hand toward Roze. Roze lifted the corners of her lips into a smile and held it.
“Of course. His Grace will always be by your side. And I will too…”
Roze’s words, spoken to comfort the child, trailed off. It was a promise she couldn’t keep. Always—that was impossible.
“…?”
Heivan sensed her hesitation and narrowed his brows. Still, there was nothing strange enough to press her about. He brushed it off as a needless thought and turned back to the child.
“Come to think of it, I heard a festival begins the day after tomorrow.”
“…?”
Plita and Roze both looked at him, puzzled by the sudden change of topic. Heivan cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing.
“I hear the Middlepion festival is quite famous.”
“…?”
The more he spoke, the more confused the two looked.
“They say there’s plenty to see and do. Roze, have you ever been to a festival?”
“Eh? Oh, no. Nothing like that…”
Caught off guard by the question directed at her, Roze shook her head. Heivan turned to Plita this time. Naturally, the child had never seen a festival either—she rarely left the Grand Duke’s estate.
That was why neither of them realized why Heivan was bringing this up. Scratching at his brow with a sheepish expression, he finally sighed and said it outright.
“Let’s all go to the festival together, the day after tomorrow.”
“…!”
“R-really?”
Roze’s eyes widened at the same time Plita exclaimed in astonishment. When Heivan nodded in answer, a joyful squeal burst out of the little girl.
“Did you know? At the festival, there’s candy, and people wearing costumes like dolls. And at night, there are fireworks that sparkle and scatter across the sky like glittering flowers… Roze, what’s wrong?”
Plita had been chattering excitedly, repeating what she’d read about festivals only in picture books. But when she saw Roze hunched over, she rushed to her side in alarm.
“What is it? Are you sick?”
“…No. I’m fine.”
“You’re definitely sick! Your face is completely pale!”
Tears welled in Plita’s eyes as she placed her tiny hand on Roze’s forehead.
“Huh? No fever… Your forehead’s actually really cold.”
“See, my lady? I told you, I’m fine.”
Roze forced a smile to reassure the girl. Plita stared at her uncertainly, then cautiously asked,
“Are you really okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then why were you curled up like that?”
“Well… I think lunch didn’t sit well with me.”
After a brief hesitation, Roze offered a plausible excuse. Believing her, Plita jumped up and tugged at her arm, struggling to pull her to her feet.
“Then you need medicine! I’ll call the physician for you.”
“No, I’ll go myself. It’s better that way, so he can check my condition directly.”
“Mm…”
Plita blinked, thinking her reasoning sound. Roze suppressed the pain in her chest and spoke again.
“So, if it’s alright… may I step out for a while, my lady?”
“To get treatment?”
“Yes.”
Roze nodded. After a moment of worry, Plita pushed her gently with both hands.
“Alright. Hurry back. You need medicine quickly to get better.”
“Can you be alone? Or should I bring another maid?”
“I want to be alone! I don’t need anyone else. I’ll be fine by myself. Besides, I have to think about what we’ll do at the festival tomorrow.”
She pointed to her sketchbook. It was filled with drawings—most of them of the three of them, hand in hand, enjoying things together. Roze glanced at it, smiled, and then nodded.
“Then I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah! Yeah! Go quickly.”
Plita pushed her again, urging her not to delay. Clearly, she was very worried about Roze’s health.
Roze let herself be ushered out, but glanced back.
“Hurry!”
The child, holding the door half-closed, peeked through the gap and urged her once more. Roze smiled and waved, then turned away. The moment her face was out of sight, it contorted in pain.
No. Not yet…
Plita might still be watching. Swallowing the urge to collapse, Roze forced herself to walk naturally.
One step, then another.
Each step made her stomach churn. Still, she endured, passing through the hallway and heading toward the stairs.
“Ugh!”
Only when she was out of Plita’s line of sight did she clutch the wall and sink down. Cold sweat trickled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin.
Her health had suddenly worsened that morning. She’d been fine enough the day before, but during the night chills had come, and by dawn her condition had declined sharply.
“…This can’t happen.”
Sitting on the cold floor, she dragged her hands down her face.
Since Heivan mentioned the festival yesterday, Plita had been nothing but excited. She had already forgotten her tears over the Countess and her daughter and was now busy planning for the outing, her face glowing.
It’ll be so fun! The three of us going together! Roze, you’re excited too, right?
Plita naturally assumed she, Heivan, and Roze would all go together. If Roze couldn’t go because of her health, the child would be devastated.
I can’t disappoint her.
Wiping her clammy face with trembling hands, Roze braced herself against the wall and forced herself upright. Immediately, her vision darkened and dizziness washed over her. She waited for it to subside, then lifted her head.
Just then, footsteps sounded on the stairs below. Hastily tidying her appearance, she wiped the sweat from her face. A maid from the Count’s estate came into view, and upon spotting Roze, bowed politely.
Unlike the Grand Duke’s servants, who treated her coldly, the Count’s staff showed courtesy—likely because she was known as a maid of the Grand Duke’s household.
It was laughable. The same position, but such different treatment depending on where she stood. Still, that difference worked in her favor now.
“Excuse me. May I ask you something?”
“If it’s something I can answer, of course.”
“Is there a skilled healer in the territory?”
“Pardon? Oh, within the manor, there is—”
“No, not here. Outside.”
Roze quickly cut her off before she summoned the Count’s physician, repeating the same excuse she had given Plita.
“I think my lunch isn’t digesting properly.”
“Ah, if that’s all, you don’t really need a physician. There are standard remedies kept here for the staff.”
The maid answered kindly. Roze faltered, then forced a weak smile.
“I wanted to look around outside as well. I told the young lady I had permission to go out under the pretense of seeking treatment.”
“Ah, I see. In that case…”
The maid nodded in understanding.
“Tsk, tsk. How could such a young lady come down with such a wretched illness…”
The healer clicked his tongue as soon as he examined Roze’s condition. But Roze accepted his sympathetic gaze with composure. At this point, there was nothing to be shocked or saddened by.
What she needed was not a miracle cure, but something to dull the pain, even for a while.
“I can lessen the pain, but curing this illness is impossible.”
“I know. I’m not asking for a cure. I only want something to ease the pain.”
Instead of despairing, Roze nodded calmly. Her matter-of-fact reaction made the healer stare at her before speaking again.
“Did they tell you how long you have left?”
“…What?”
“I mean, how much time you have to live.”
Her green eyes trembled at his blunt words. She tried to smile, then shut her lips tightly. After a moment, a faint laugh escaped her.
“They said about a year… If I’m lucky, a little more. But not more than two.”
“Hm. A year, you say.”
The healer grimaced and muttered reluctantly. Roze’s face stiffened at his reaction.
“Why do you say it like that? Do you think they were wrong?”
“Not exactly. At the time, that may have been accurate. But if the illness has progressed faster since then, the prediction must change too.”
He waved his hand dismissively. Yet Roze’s expression remained rigid. The healer glanced at her, sighed, and finally spoke with a heavy tone.
“In my opinion… you don’t even have a year left.”
“…Less than a year?”
The blood drained from her face. Already pale, her features now looked almost bluish. The healer studied her and nodded.
“It seems the illness is advancing more quickly than before. At this rate, within half a year…”
