Chapter 74
“Lady Litrisia, is the room temperature comfortable? How about the humidity? Is there anything bothering you?”
“That’s enough, Allen. Just keep doing what you usually do.”
She hadn’t openly said, I’m terminally ill, but…
Even without words, the servants seemed to have picked up on Litrisia’s condition.
Allen fussed over her as though she might shatter at the slightest touch, and the burden of it made Litrisia turn her head away.
That’s when she noticed the wedding dress hanging in the corner of the room.
Once pure and pristine, as white as the heavy snow falling outside the window, the dress was now in ruins—stained and marred.
The dark, dried blood was hideous to look at.
“What should we do about that? The tailor will be so upset.”
“Please don’t worry, my lady. I’ll be sending it to the salon tomorrow, and they’ll make it look brand-new again.”
Saying he should take care of it now that he remembered, Allen began carefully folding the dress.
Watching the round back of Allen’s head beneath his hairband, Litrisia suddenly spoke.
“Allen. Shall I draw a picture for you?”
“Huh? All of a sudden?”
“Yes. I remembered that you once said you wanted to see me draw.”
“Well, of course I’d love that! But—won’t it tire you out? Aren’t you exhausted?”
“I’m fine. Come here, Allen.”
Allen hesitated, unsure if he should, but soon scurried off to grab paper and a pen, returning like a little squirrel.
Litrisia gently stroked the child’s head before taking the pen in hand.
“What should I draw for you?”
“Anything! As long as it’s drawn by you, Lady Litrisia, I’ll love it!”
Litrisia smiled faintly and began sketching. With a few strokes, a cozy little house appeared, with Allen living happily among his orphanage siblings.
“I’ll also make a proper version later, painted nicely on canvas, and give it to you.”
“Really? Wow!”
Allen, still very much a child, forgot all his gloom and reacted with pure joy.
Of course, Mia, standing beside him, jabbed Allen hard in the ribs, as if scolding him for being so thoughtless.
This time Litrisia beckoned Mia over, holding a jewelry box.
“Here. Mia, this is for you.”
“……!”
When Litrisia placed several floral ornaments into her hands, Mia’s eyes widened until they nearly popped out.
“Uh, ah? A-ah?”
She was so flustered she didn’t even think to use her notepad, instead fumbling with frantic gestures.
“I don’t really dress up my hair anyway. And since you love flowers, Mia, I think these will suit you much better.”
Somehow, Litrisia understood all of Mia’s flailing attempts at protest.
Unable to refuse, the two maids—now unexpectedly gifted—just rolled their eyes at each other.
And so began Litrisia’s sudden gift-giving spree.
Most of the items she gave away were either bought with the emergency funds she’d taken when she left the count’s estate, or things she had made herself.
The next day she prepared a new mask for Marsha.
The day after that, she ordered a replacement prosthetic leg for Gorten from the carpenter who had repaired Killian’s desk.
The following day, she trimmed Justin’s beard, and later gave Piril a lens cloth enchanted with purification magic.
Sometimes she even handed out her own dresses to the servants.
Today’s recipient was the castle’s head chef.
When he received the apron and cooking utensils she had made for him, he looked utterly bewildered.
“You’re… really giving these to me? Are you sure I can accept them?”
“Please do. Thanks to you, I’ve always been able to enjoy warm and delicious meals. And the lemon sherbet, too. It suited my taste perfectly.”
“I—I was only doing my job, but to hear you say that… I hardly know what to do with myself.”
Chef Cooker’s round cheeks flushed as he hugged the apron tightly against his stout arms.
“Especially the sherbet—though all I really did was freeze the ice and shave it. Everything else was prepared by His Highness, the Archduke.”
“Killian did?”
“Yes. Didn’t he tell you? Every time, he would place the mint leaves himself, and squeeze the lime juice by hand.”
“……I had no idea.”
“Since you’re here, would you not have a sherbet before you go? It won’t be as good as His Highness’s, but I promise my flavor won’t disappoint!”
Litrisia couldn’t bring herself to refuse his eager offer, so she nodded.
But then her face suddenly paled, and she covered her mouth.
“Ah… Could you send the sherbet up to my room? I just remembered something I must deal with right away.”
She signaled to Allen and Mia, who never left her side.
“Allen, Mia. Wait here and bring the sherbet up when it’s ready.”
“Then I’ll stay here, and Mia can accompany you, my lady—”
“No. Both of you stay. You can have some sherbet yourselves while you wait.”
Forcing her two maids to stay behind, Litrisia slipped gracefully out of the kitchen.
The moment she closed the door to her room, her graceful steps vanished. She rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet as her body convulsed.
“Ugh!”
With nothing in her stomach, only bitter stomach acid came up.
Vomiting had become almost a daily routine in recent days.
It was as if her body were paying interest on all the years it had gone without illness—completely falling apart at once.
Suppressing her sounds so no one would rush in, she gagged and retched until it passed, then rinsed her mouth with cold water.
She splashed her face as well, forcing her mind clear, just as Allen and Mia returned.
They must not have listened to her earlier—since they had come back far too quickly to have eaten sherbet leisurely.
“Why are you back already?”
“Lady Litrisia, did you… wash your face?”
Both pairs of eyes immediately darted toward the bathroom.
“Yes. I was just feeling a little hot.”
“……You’re right! It is a little warm today, isn’t it? Perfect weather for sherbet!”
Even with temperature control in the north, to call it “hot” was absurd—lions would sooner laugh. But the maids played along eagerly. Still, their chins quivered like cracked walnuts beneath their lips.
“Oh, that reminds me! We have to stop by the laundry room! I completely forgot! Please enjoy your sherbet, my lady—we’ll be right back!”
“Mm!”
Eyes and noses red, Mia’s ribbons fluttered wildly as she ran out. She wore every ornament Litrisia had given her, all at once, making for a comical sight.
Strangely, no one seemed to mock her eccentric fashion, as she strutted around the estate like that.
With a stuffy, tear-stifled voice, Allen replied firmly and followed Mia out.
Left alone, Litrisia sank heavily into her seat.
She lifted a spoonful of sherbet to her lips, but soon set it down again. The taste was good, but… it wasn’t his taste.
“No matter how hard I try not to think of it… I can’t help it.”
A pinch of salt. Four drops of lime juice. A single mint leaf atop a lemon sherbet not overly sweet.
It was the recipe written in the navy notebook.
Litrisia sighed, glancing at Killian’s desk—now fitted with new legs—and the long wooden staff beside it.
“One thing’s certain. Killian knew about my illness—and about me—long before Piril ever discovered it.”
Back on that chaotic battlefield, he had even given the strange order to have a wooden staff made. He must have known for a long, long time.
Her head throbbed as the thoughts tangled.
In her room, now bare from giving away so much, Litrisia swallowed her medicine dry.
She grimaced at the bitter taste scraping her throat, when suddenly noise rose from outside.
She thought she heard the faint snort of a horse.
Did a colt escape from the stables?
Her curiosity stirred, but the weakness after vomiting left her unwilling to move a finger. She simply lay there.
But the commotion only grew louder, until finally she heard hurried footsteps—tap, tap, tap!—Gorten running down the corridor.
Gorten, who almost never ran unless it concerned Killian or Litrisia. That alone made her suspect something serious had happened.
Forcing her heavy body up, she opened the stiff-feeling door and met eyes with Mark, standing guard.
She caught a glimpse of Gorten disappearing around the corner in the distance.
“Sir Davis, it sounds noisy outside. What’s happening?”
Now that she looked closely, even Mark’s stone-like face was alight with excitement.
As though someone long-awaited had arrived.
“Lady Litrisia! He has returned!”
“Returned? Who?”
“Your lord—His Highness, the Archduke, has come back!”
“……!”
The strength drained from Litrisia’s hand, the doorknob turning loosely in her grasp.
After nearly two weeks without word, Killian had finally returned.
