TWFLLYM Ch 46

The Moment a Lie Is Needed (2)

[Roserikta] "Huh? It opened quite easily."

She tilted her head, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. Her performance hit the mark, forcing the guards to exchange puzzled looks.

[Guard] "Then what the Captain said was......"

[Roserikta] "Oh, the Captain? Is he feeling alright?"

She pivoted the conversation instantly. Making Eaton a patient provided the cleanest exit from this mess.

She reached out with exaggerated concern, pressing her palms against Eaton’s cheeks and forehead.

[Roserikta] "His eyes look dazed...... and he has a fever."

[Guard] "Ah......? Is that so?"

The guards traded silent, frantic glances. None of them genuinely wanted to arrest their leader. Until the very second they drew their swords, they had prayed for Eaton to deny his own words.

Roserikta’s arrival was a miracle. The idea that Eaton was merely speaking nonsense due to a fever was a thousand times better than treason.

[Arad] "Captain! If you had a fever, you should have said something!"

[Eaton] "No, I don't have a fever—"

[Arad] "Oh, be quiet. No wonder you kept talking such rubbish."

[Guard] "Exactly. Hey, everyone, grab the Captain. Let's get him into bed before he says anything else."

[Arad] "Good idea."

[Eaton] "I'm not sick! ......Mmph!"

Arad grew tired of listening and firmly covered his mouth.

[Roserikta] "Yes, lying down is best. He might experience hallucinations or voices. Binding him to the bed will keep him safe."

Arad brightened at the suggestion to tie him down.

[Arad] "Oh, is that so?"

[Roserikta] "Yes. It’s a common symptom of this delirium. I will keep an eye on the Captain."

[Arad] "We couldn't ask for more. Thank you, Lady."

[Roserikta] "Don't mention it. Please move him to his room quickly. And make sure those knots are tight."

[Arad] "Yes, yes. Right away. Hurry up, move!"

Arad barked orders to the other men.

Thus, the guards bound Eaton to his bed, and word soon reached Kalart that his Captain was suffering from a fever-induced madness.

---

[Kalart] "I don't like this."

He stared down at the sleeping Eaton and spoke curtly.

Eaton had finally drifted off after the guards forced a sedative down his throat. Since they lacked a prepared sleeping draught, they had scrambled to mix ingredients, resulting in an accidental overdose. Eaton was now in a heavy slumber that would likely last twenty-four hours.

Roserikta insisted on staying by his side. If black magic had taken root in Eaton, she needed to watch the progression closely.

Naturally, this arrangement soured Kalart's mood.

[Kalart] "The Gibero estate must have a personal physician. Wouldn't that be better?"

She understood his meaning. He wasn't debating medical expertise; he wanted her elsewhere.

She looked at him with a hint of curiosity.

[Kalart] "Why do you look at me like that?"

[Roserikta] "Well...... you sound just like you did before."

Kalart showed no obvious signs of distress. Whether the Countess had already cast a spell on him, failed in her attempt, or if the magic simply took time to manifest remained a mystery.

[Kalart] "Why should I sound any different?"

He shifted his displeased gaze from Eaton to her.

[Kalart] "I am tempted to consult the High Judge to see if I can legally order every other man in this Empire to stay healthy whenever a physician is unavailable."

[Roserikta] "Oh......"

So, the lingering effects of the love potion—the intense affection and obsession—remained.

Roserikta felt a wave of frustration. She needed a deeper understanding of black magic to navigate this. Still, she felt relief. For now.

[Kalart] "Eaton is sturdy. His illness is unfortunate, but you don't need to watch him every second. Another person can take your place."

He had a talent for making words that would hurt Eaton's feelings sound incredibly sweet to her ears.

[Roserikta] "I am unfamiliar with this specific ailment, Your Highness. I want to study it closely."

[Kalart] "As a pharmacist."

[Roserikta] "Yes, Your Highness."

He let out a soft, silent sigh.

[Kalart] "I suppose I can't stop you when you are determined."

[Roserikta] "Your Highness......?"

[Kalart] "No, I should at least try."

Muttering to himself, Kalart suddenly lowered his head until his eyes met hers. His intense gaze felt like needles against her skin.

[Kalart] "So, ask for my permission."

[Roserikta] "Pardon?"

Anyone who didn't know him would find this request absurd.

Why did a pharmacist need permission to tend to a sick knight?

[Kalart] "A kiss will do. Then I will allow it."

[Roserikta] "......"

He tilted his head slightly, offering his cheek. Her own cheeks burned as that handsome face moved into her personal space.

[Roserikta] "But Your Highness."

[Kalart] "Don't say no. If you do, I might actually order everyone to leave Eaton to his fate, sick or not."

[Roserikta] "No, it's not that......"

I don't hate the idea. How could I?

[Roserikta] "I have something to ask."

Kalart turned his head. Their eyes met again.

It was a simple thing, yet her heart hammered against her ribs.

She loved the way he looked at her during a conversation. He focused on her with such desperation, as if he were a deaf man trying to catch every vibration of her voice, terrified of missing a single word.

It was impossible not to love a man who looked at only her that way.

[Kalart] "Anything."

[Roserikta] "When you met the Countess."

His jaw tightened.

[Kalart] "What about it?"

[Roserikta] "You said...... she was beautiful."

Her voice dropped to a whisper for reasons she couldn't explain. She cleared her throat and looked away before continuing.

[Roserikta] "She is likely the first person you’ve viewed that way. So, I wondered if......"

[Kalart] "If?"

[Roserikta] "If you felt any...... well, any affection for her."

"Affection" was a polite term. Seeing Eaton mutter about the Countess' wishes like a puppet suggested that her black magic didn't just inspire liking; it imposed an absolute, overwhelming obsession.

[Kalart] "Let me ask you something as well."

He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She melted into his touch. Genuinely, she loved everything about him.

[Roserikta] "Yes, Your Highness."

[Kalart] "Are you asking me this even though you know the Countess is a married woman?"

Oh......

Right. Count Gibero existed. He was so ghostly and faint that it was easy to forget he was the Countess' husband. On the other hand, it also meant he held very little importance to his wife.

[Roserikta] "Well, a person can feel drawn to another; it doesn't always have to be romantic."

Just like the Captain. He didn't seem to love the Countess as a man loves a woman.

[Roserikta] "You like Clobell, too. In that way......"

[Kalart] "I wonder."

He ran a thumb over her lips, stopping her mid-sentence.

[Roserikta] "Your Highness?"

[Kalart] "She is beautiful. I don't know why, but she doesn't look like you or the others."

[Roserikta] "Oh......"

Was it just her imagination? His gaze grew darker as he touched her lips.

Roserikta worried this intensity stemmed from his thoughts of the Countess.

The Countess wouldn't have just sat there while they were alone.

She wouldn't have staged a carriage accident just to have tea. She brought him here for a reason.

I just don't know what it is yet.

Actually, she had a guess. A black witch's desires were usually quite clear. She wanted the man in front of her. And she wanted everything he owned—the entire Kriyen Empire.

Kalart’s hand dropped. He straightened his back, and the sudden distance made Roserikta feel cold.

He returned to his usual height, making her neck ache to look up at him.

[Kalart] "But she is married. Unfortunately."

[Roserikta] "Ah......"

The word 'unfortunately' pierced her heart.

Did that mean he would have pursued her if she were single?

Was the black magic beginning to work?

Would he eventually turn into a puppet like Eaton? Would he...... forget her?

Worry spread across her face like a creeping fog. His expression shifted back to his cold, indifferent mask.

[Kalart] "Forget the kiss. Tend to Eaton as you wish. I appreciate your hard work."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

She bit her lip as she watched his retreating. She wanted to call out to him.

Where are you going now that you've turned your back on me?

---

[Countess] "What is this!"

She screamed at her reflection. The mirror didn't show her face; it displayed the sleeping Eaton. Next to him, Roserikta leaned her head against the wall, drifting off.

[Countess] "I finally turned him to my side, and now he's useless!"

Slam!

She threw the mirror down in a fit of rage. Cracks spider-webbed across the glass as it hit the floor.

[Countess] "Ha......"

Her chest heaved. When she saw the shattered mirror, she bit her lip until it bled.

[Countess] "Why does everything have to break?"

This was the second mirror she had destroyed in her anger.

Breaking a mirror was bad luck for humans and witches alike. For humans, it was a superstition; for witches, it was a practical disaster. A mirror was a vital channel for their magic.

[Countess] "Now I have to make another one. How annoying."

But annoyance was the least of her problems.

She pulled down the fabric of her dress, exposing her chest. A wound sat there, raw and unhealed. Every time she used her power, the gash widened.

Replacing a mirror was easy, but doing so with an open wound was a burden. Even small weights eventually crushed a person.

She stared at the injury with a hateful expression. The wound seemed to breathe, slowly opening and closing in a rhythmic, agonizing cycle. She had endured this for over sixty years.

She was done with it. If she could rid herself of this pain, she would skin that young brat from Versaryl alive.

[Countess] "Well, at least it will be entertaining."

She released her dress and sank into the soft sofa. Despite her relaxed posture, her face remained savage.

[Countess] "Why is nothing going my way? From that brat at Versaryl to everything else."

She chewed over her thoughts.

The answer was always the same: the Versaryl Pharmacy.

[Countess] "How does a love potion still exist? That substance was banned long ago. Especially at Versaryl."

In the kingdom of witches, the name Versaryl held immense power.

Ages ago, before human kingdoms even existed, the witches of Versaryl set the standards for magic. Most modern recipes originated from their books.

Versaryl was the beginning of magic, but also the beginning of rules. Those witches were the ones who created taboos and restrictions.

[Countess] "Is that not hypocrisy? Versaryl banned it, yet Versaryl kept it."

Because of that potion, the Prince had fallen in love despite his cursed eyes. That was the crack in her plan. She thought the cure would return the curse to its original state, but she was wrong.

Like a broken bowl glued back together, the curse on the Prince now had a faint, permanent seam.

The Prince should have fallen for her the moment he saw her. He should have been swallowed by a passion so dark he could never escape. She had waited twenty years for that.

And now, there was a crack. He didn't recognize her as his only source of beauty. He even showed resistance.

[Countess] "That miserable brat......"

She clenched her fists until her nails drew blood.

[Countess] "Why did she have to interfere?"

A young witch who didn't even know her own identity was ruining everything.

The Countess decided to act, regardless of the risk.

[Countess] "Fine...... since she is already in my hands."

She opened her eyes. She began to trace shapes in the air with a trembling finger. Her eyes, once like deep amethyst, flashed a blood-red hue.