Chapter 75
“Lady Litrisha! At least take this with you!”
“Thank you, Sir Davis!”
Litrisha took the shawl Mark had brought and draped it over her shoulders.
The exhaustion and pain that had weighed down her entire body until just moments ago felt like a lie. She ran frantically down the corridor.
With each hurried breath, she felt her body straining, but her impatience wouldn’t allow her to slow down.
Through the window, she saw Killian dismounting his horse.
It was Killian. The real Killian.
As Litrisha spiraled down the staircase to the first floor, Killian had just handed the reins to Gorten and was removing his gloves.
“Killian…!”
She couldn’t hide her joy.
Even with her chest heaving from short breaths, Litrisha dashed straight into the courtyard.
“Ugh!”
Whoosh.
The wind was stronger than she expected, and the shawl slipped from her hands, flying far away.
But she didn’t even have time to look at it, as she grabbed Killian’s arm.
“Killian, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Even after so long, his handsome face remained, though his thick eyebrows were slightly furrowed.
“People inside the castle were very worried when you suddenly went silent. I… was too.”
“….”
Killian stood like a statue, saying nothing, and Litrisha grew uneasy.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Did… things not go well?”
“Things?”
Killian slowly moved his head from side to side as if it pained him to speak.
From riding for so long, there was a soft crack from his neck as the bones adjusted.
“Ah. Things were resolved just fine.”
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since they last met, but Killian’s reaction was unusually stiff.
Just when she thought it might be a misunderstanding…
Killian moved his arm as if brushing her off in annoyance. Litrisha’s slender hand slipped from his effortlessly.
A chill spread through her at Killian’s cold attitude.
“Ah…”
Litrisha stared blankly at her outstretched hand.
The wind blew again, causing her rounded shoulders to hunch. Her weakened body struggled even against this modest breeze.
Unable to hold back, a cough escaped her lips.
If it were Killian, he would have wrapped her tightly with his coat instead of the flying shawl—or taken her inside the mansion immediately and thrown all the firewood into the fireplace to warm her.
Yet, strangely, he just fiddled with his ear, looking bored and indifferent.
Perhaps sensing someone watching, he reluctantly removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
Even then, it felt purely obligatory.
Then Killian left her standing there, muttering, “I’m tired, I’ll head inside first,” and strode into the castle.
“What… what is this…”
Everyone who had come to greet Killian was left speechless by his attitude against the cold wind.
Among them, Mark seemed the most shocked.
Grabbing the shawl quickly, he repeated like a parrot, “This can’t be… My lord could never act like this toward Lady Litrisha…”
Litrisha, too, could not follow Killian immediately and clutched his jacket tightly, her hands red from the cold.
His usual refreshing minty scent was replaced only by the smell of smoke.
Killian’s unfamiliarly cold demeanor felt like something inside her was crumbling.
Litrisha forced a small smile.
“Killian must… be very tired. Gorten, prepare warm bathwater in Killian’s bathroom. Sir Davis, you can step away from Killian now.”
“Are you crazy? You must be crazy! Why would you do that to Lady Litrisha? Do you know how… how much she—!”
“Marsha! Calm down! Watch your words! How can you say ‘crazy’ to His Highness?”
Gorten intervened as Marsha stormed into Killian’s room.
Marsha pounded her chest in frustration, causing the delicate mask Litrisha had gifted her to rattle each time.
With a scornful glare at Killian, Marsha strode forward.
“Oh, even if you’re bad at romance, this is ridiculous. How much will you regret later? I can’t live because of you, truly!”
Just as she was about to slap his muscular arm as she had done whenever Killian returned from the battlefield injured,
Smack!
Killian irritably batted Marsha’s hand away.
“Where do you think you’re touching right now?”
For a normal noble, this would be expected. But Killian had never done this before, leaving Marsha dumbfounded, clutching the hand that had been pushed away.
Killian even frowned at the slight burn scar exposed on Marsha’s arm.
“Alright. I’m tired. Everyone, leave.”
“I’ll just fill the bathtub and step back, then.”
“Fill the water?”
His unusually sharp blue eyes swept Gorten’s legs with disapproval.
“With those legs? Fine, I’ll do it myself. Don’t make me say it twice—everyone out. You too.”
“Me too, my lord?”
Mark, just entering the room, pointed to himself in confusion.
Annoyance deepened on Killian’s face.
“I hope I don’t have to repeat the command three times for you to understand.”
Seeing his heightened irritability, Gorten decided to escort Marsha and Mark out.
As the door slid closed, Killian, instead of heading to the bathroom, flopped onto the sofa.
At that moment, the door creaked open again.
“Didn’t you hear me tell everyone to leave?”
“What’s wrong with you, coming back and immediately raising your voice?”
It was Justin, followed by Piril.
Killian, holding a cushion in one hand as if ready to toss it, widened his eyes at their entrance.
Though subtle, the smallest changes were noticeable to someone of Justin’s skill.
“Am I a ghost? You’re reacting as if you’ve seen something you shouldn’t. Or did you forget I was here after so long? Tch.”
Following Justin, Killian’s head turned, drawn as if by a magnet.
When Justin and Piril finally sat across from him, Killian’s lips trembled slightly.
It wasn’t the right expression for him, but it seemed like an intrigued smile.
“Do you think I could forget you were here?”
“Glad to see you, but oddly displeased, nephew.”
Justin scratched his neat beard and sighed.
“I’m sorry to bring such news right after your struggles in the capital, but the treatment results aren’t good.”
“…Treatment?”
Killian’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
Justin couldn’t meet Killian’s gaze and looked down. Piril did the same.
“Ever since you left for the capital, Litrisha’s condition worsened. Her fever rose…”
“Was she in much pain?”
“She was beyond mere pain. Symptoms that had disappeared reappeared, along with others… She endured silently, though it must have been unbearable.”
Justin rubbed his hair in frustration. His sideburns looked like they might vanish entirely.
“I’m going mad! I told you both I’d make sure she recovered, that she’d live. And yet, I see no clear way forward.”
“How long does she have?”
Justin furrowed his brow. Piril only stared at the fists resting on her knees.
“As I told you before. No changes expected.”
“…As you told me before?”
Killian, now sitting properly, fiddled with the sofa’s armrest, scraping the smooth marble with his nails, deep in thought.
“Yes. You need time to accept it too. For now, let’s rise. Once your mind calms, we’ll talk again.”
“Ah. I suppose so. That’s… shocking news. I need some time to process it alone.”
Justin patted Killian’s shoulder a few times for encouragement, then left with the stoic Piril.
Thud.
Confirming the door was now fully closed, Killian lowered his head and took out a transmitter.
Tap tap. He tapped it with his fingertip; it vibrated and lit up.
“….”
