Chapter 8
“Ugh… it’s cold.”
As her stomach finally settled, the man now signaled his discomfort in a different way. In a situation where a fire in the hearth was already blazing, there were only three possible ways to deal with chills like this.
One could place a heated stone pouch inside the bed to warm the body, cover him with a thick but breathable blanket, or at least give him proper clothing. But none of those things existed here.
“Ugh… it’s cold. Hngh!”
Shivering violently, the man, who had been lying face down, tried to turn onto his side—but it seemed he accidentally strained the shoulder where the arrow had been lodged.
Freya hurried to the bedside and helped him turn onto the side that did not have the shoulder wound. After covering him with his clothes and stepping away from the bed, she saw how badly he was trembling—like a puppy drenched in heavy rain.
Worried that his condition was too severe, Freya checked the wound again in case infection was the cause. However, there was no bleeding, and externally there was nothing abnormal.
After thinking it over, she concluded it was a side effect of the Bu-sucho poison that caused a sudden drop in body temperature. The man’s shaking worsened further, and before long his face and lips turned as pale blue as someone suffering from hypothermia.
As a form of treatment, Freya rubbed his hands and feet vigorously, massaging him to generate warmth. But it only worked temporarily; once she stopped, the same symptoms returned.
She considered the idea of channeling mana into him. However, she quickly shook her head. He had just been treated—his immunity was likely depleted. In such a state, her mana might become harmful rather than helpful.
Watching his trembling resume again, Freya lay down against the man’s back. In other words, she decided to become a human heater.
The method worked. Gradually, the man’s trembling subsided, and after about ten minutes, it stopped completely. Hearing his steady breathing, Freya quietly got off the bed.
But less than five minutes later, the man began shivering again, complaining of cold. An irritated remark almost slipped from her mouth, but she held it back, knowing he wasn’t doing it intentionally just to torment her.
After throwing more fuel into the hearth, Freya returned to being a human heater once more. After repeating this cycle about twice more, exhaustion overtook her—and she fell asleep.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying alone in the bed. Realizing this, Freya sat up abruptly. The man, who should have been in the bed, was instead placing firewood into the hearth.
“Did you wake up because you were cold?”
The man was fully dressed in the clothes he had taken off earlier.
“Then you should’ve woken me up. Why are you, as the patient, doing that?”
After scolding him, Freya stepped down from the bed. Reaching the hearth, she checked his complexion. He was still pale, but the bluish tint had completely disappeared.
“From the looks of it, it seems you’ve mostly recovered from the Bu-sucho poison.”
“Bu-sucho poison?”
“Yes. The poison applied to the arrowhead was Bu-sucho poison. As for what it is…”
After listening quietly to Freya’s explanation, the man spoke.
“You’re quite knowledgeable about toxins, and your medical skills are exceptional. Where did you learn all of this?”
“From my master.”
“May I ask who your master is?”
“No.”
Freya shook her head.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
the man asked with a suspicious expression.
“My master doesn’t want it known.”
Her teacher, Morgan Hart, was a veteran physician who had served in the imperial palace for many years. One year, war broke out, and he joined as a military doctor. During the five-year war, he discovered surgical medicine and used it to save many soldiers.
When the war ended and he returned to the palace, he advocated for surgical medicine, but faced fierce opposition from the temple. The temple insisted that treating the body with blades was sacrilegious, a rejection of the divine power granted by the gods.
Some fellow physicians supported Morgan’s views, claiming other countries were already practicing surgery, but with the emperor siding with the temple, surgical medicine was ultimately rejected.
Later, at a hunting tournament held to celebrate the emperor’s birthday, a member of the royal family was attacked and mauled by a pack of wolves.
The injuries were so severe that no physician present dared to intervene, with the victim’s intestines spilling outside the body.
At that moment, Morgan stepped forward. Hoping the emperor would reconsider surgical medicine, he skillfully treated the patient. However, the royal died. The surgery itself had succeeded, but the bleeding did not stop due to hemophilia. Because of that incident, Morgan was disgraced and expelled from the palace.
What tormented him even more than his expulsion was the fact that he could not understand why the royal had died. That was only natural—hemophilia was so rare that its existence was virtually unknown in this world.
After that, Morgan traveled everywhere searching for patients who had died from uncontrolled bleeding. Eventually, he arrived in Freya’s territory, Harington.
He had heard rumors of a knight in that domain with the same symptoms as the royal who had survived bleeding injuries.
It was Freya who had cured him using blood-clotting medicinal herbs. It turned out not to be a mutation, but likely hereditary through the maternal line—the condition affected only the male members of the knight’s family. Fortunately, most cases were mild, so treatment had not been difficult.
When Morgan met her, he was astonished by her extensive medical knowledge. He was even more shocked that she not only accepted surgical medicine but also knew techniques he himself was unaware of.
Morgan became fascinated by her, and she in turn was fascinated by his vast knowledge of herbal medicine. Drawn to each other’s expertise, they formed a master–disciple relationship, filling in each other’s gaps.
Through her, Morgan finally understood why the royal had died—but he did not return to the palace. Instead, he chose to settle in Harington. Her maternal uncle, who ran a pharmaceutical business, warmly welcomed him.
Afterward, whenever surgery was required, Morgan always brought her along as both advisor and assistant. Feeling burdened by this, she suggested that he take on a male disciple as well. Morgan accepted her suggestion readily.
The new disciple, Gordon, was highly intelligent and quickly absorbed Morgan’s knowledge and medical skills. Morgan eventually declared semi-retirement and began focusing on medicine-making together with her.
At present, he was away in the capital after receiving a letter from his daughter. He intended to return to the territory once his business there was finished.
“No? Why would he not want it known?”
The man’s voice pulled Freya back to reality.
“Because he is retired.”
Not fully retired—semi-retired—but she answered that way deliberately. Not only for herself, but also because nothing good would come from involving Morgan with this man.
“Even if he’s retired, you could at least tell me his name, couldn’t you?”
“You’re quite rude for someone who seems otherwise reasonable. It is impolite to demand something the person in question does not wish to disclose.”
Freya responded sharply.
“Fine. Then I suppose I can at least know your name, my lady?”
“No.”
Freya shook her head.
“…Why on earth…”
The man trailed off, visibly flustered.
“There’s no need to ask. I have my reasons. And while we’re at it, I have a request. I’d like you not to tell anyone that I treated you.”
“Why is that?”
She couldn’t very well say she didn’t want to be associated with him, so Freya chose the most plausible excuse.
“Because of my reputation as a woman.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched at the unexpected answer.
