IARMDH Chapter 35

 

 

 

The next day, Erne woke up later than usual.

 

His head felt heavy, and he wasn’t feeling well.

 

He grabbed Judith, who was busily moving about from the morning, and asked.

 

“Did you come into my room last night?”

 

“Last night? No.”

 

Judith replied that she had fallen asleep early because she was unusually tired.

 

She wasn’t the type to lie about things like this.

 

Then what was that last night?

 

Was it a dream?

 

Erne tried to recall the events of the night before.

 

He remembered hearing Judith’s voice and opening the door—but no one had been there.

 

Wait… did he actually open the door?

 

His memory was hazy, like he had drunk too much.

 

Maybe even the voice and the act of opening the door had just been a dream.

 

While Erne was lost in thought, Judith placed her hand on his forehead.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Erne, you have a fever.”

 

“A fever?”

 

Erne pushed Judith’s hand away and touched his own forehead, then hers.

 

Her hand had felt cool, and sure enough, he did have a slight fever.

 

“Looks like you might be coming down with a cold.”

 

A cold—when he hadn’t caught one even after walking in the rain in the middle of winter.

 

Had he really gotten weak just from taking a break from training for a while?

 

Wait—a fever?

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

He hastily removed his hand from Judith’s forehead.

 

She looked at him, baffled.

 

“You’re the one who was touching me, Erne.”

 

“It could be contagious.”

 

“That makes sense. It’s a cold.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

Erne nervously ran a hand through his hair, then clutched his throbbing head.

 

Damn it. This was definitely that illness Henry had mentioned.

 

That mysterious disease—of unknown cause, uncertain whether it was infectious or bacterial, with no known cure.

 

***

 

It had started with just a slight fever. At that point, Erne was still well enough to have a decent conversation with Henry, who had come to check on him after hearing the news.

 

“I don’t think it’s an epidemic. There haven’t been any new cases lately. Still, just in case, be careful, ma’am.”

 

Judith also heard the full story from Henry.

 

Apparently, people who had come into contact with the mummy or gotten too close to it seemed to have been infected with some kind of pathogen.

 

But even a few people who hadn’t been exposed had died—so everyone needed to be cautious.

 

 

“But it’s strange. Erne was fine—why did he suddenly get like this?”

 

 

According to the investigation by the security forces, all the people who fell ill started showing symptoms on the same day.

 

Since Erne’s fever began much later, Judith hoped it was just a common cold and not related to the mummy.

 

But sadly, that hope was in vain.

 

Starting the next day, Erne’s condition worsened.

 

His fever would spike furiously and then briefly subside, only to flare up again.

 

He couldn’t stay conscious through it.

 

“Erne, are you awake?”

 

“………”

 

No response.

 

Judith gently cracked open the door to his room.

 

He was lying still on the bed, not moving at all.

 

She quietly placed a tray with thin rice porridge and fever medicine on the table.

 

Then, carrying a basin of cold water and a towel, she returned to the bedside.

 

“You’re burning up… completely burning.”

 

Judith pressed her hand to Erne’s forehead and bit her lip at the searing heat that met her palm.

 

Even someone as strong as Erne could be knocked out by a fever like this.

 

What kind of pathogen was in that mummy?

 

She’d set out to examine a corpse that didn’t decay… and now he was about to become one.

 

Erne’s breathing was irregular.

 

This was a man who hadn’t even flinched when stabbed with a poisoned blade—now lying helpless like this unsettled Judith deeply.

 

She carefully wiped his forehead and neck with the cold towel.

 

But the heat radiating from him wouldn’t go down with just that.

 

Judith hesitated—then unbuttoned his shirt and opened it.

 

His heaving chest was like a furnace.

 

The wet towel slid from his neck to his chest, to his sides, and then to his abdomen.

 

“What’s the use of having muscles if they can’t fight off a fever?”

 

Should she take off his pants too?

 

Judith placed a hand on his thigh.

 

Even through the fabric, the heat was overwhelming.

 

“…I guess I’ll have to take them off.”

 

Stripping a man’s pants while he was unconscious made her feel like the worst kind of pervert—but this was purely medical care.

 

She was doing this to save him.

 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him naked before.

 

Not that she planned to undress him completely—just the pants. Just the pants.

 

Just as her trembling fingers touched his waistband—

 

A strong hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.

 

Heat surged through their contact.

 

“…Why is it that every time I wake up from unconsciousness, you’re doing something like this?”

 

His voice was laced with ragged breaths.

 

“How am I supposed to rest easy like this?”

 

If he had the strength to joke, maybe he wasn’t dying just yet.

 

“What are you talking about? I’m taking care of you.”

 

“What kind of caregiving starts with taking off clothes? This is harassment, Miss Harrington.”

 

“Tch. Even when I try to help…”

 

Judith tossed the towel into the basin and rolled her eyes at him.

 

Still, she brought the tray from the table to his bedside.

 

“If you’ve got enough energy to tease me, then you’ve got enough to eat your porridge.”

 

Even though his head throbbed with the slightest movement, Erne propped himself up against the bed’s headboard.

 

He stared blankly at the bowl of lukewarm porridge, still radiating a faint warmth.

 

He didn’t feel like eating.

 

Nothing appealed to him.

 

Still, Erne reluctantly picked up the spoon.

 

Thinking about Judith, who had prepared the porridge amidst making herbal medicine or whatever she had been busy with, he couldn’t just turn it away.

 

The thick porridge melted gently in his parched mouth.

 

It wasn’t bad.

 

Lately, everything felt like chewing sand—but this was decent, all things considered.

 

And yet, a sulky voice escaped his lips.

 

“It tastes bad.”

 

“Porridge isn’t about taste. You eat it to survive.”

 

Judith didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his complaint.

 

Well, they weren’t exactly the type to exchange sweet compliments.

 

“Eat it all and make sure to take the medicine too.”

 

“Why?”

 

Why? Did he really need her to explain why sick people take medicine?

 

Judith looked at him with a puzzled expression, like she genuinely didn’t understand him.

 

“Isn’t it better for you if I die, Miss Harrington?”

 

Even Erne couldn’t understand himself.

 

Why was he picking a fight with someone who was taking care of him?

 

Maybe it was because he felt vulnerable and wanted someone to fuss over him.

 

But deep down, he was also curious.

 

In their current situation, the person who would benefit the most from his death was Judith.

 

No risk of divorce, half the living expenses, and if she sold the house later, the profit would all be hers.

 

In other words, keeping Erne alive was a loss for her.

 

And yet, despite hating loss more than death itself, why was she trying so hard to save him?

 

“Looks like you’re feeling better now that you’ve had some food.”

 

Judith brushed it off, thinking Erne was just back to teasing her like usual.

 

“Hurry and take your medicine too.”

 

“It’s bitter.”

 

“Of course it is. Medicine’s supposed to be bitter. That’s how you know it works.”

 

“I’ve never heard that before. Did you just make it up?”

 

Was that not a common saying here? Judith insisted she didn’t make it up as she took the tray away.

 

Erne’s eyelids began to droop, the medicine already starting to make him drowsy.

 

“Wait, Erne. Take off your shirt before you sleep.”

 

While wiping his body with a wet towel, she’d soaked his shirt several times.

 

She wanted to help him change into dry clothes, but handling Erne’s large frame by herself was nearly impossible.

 

Erne, forcing his eyes open, paused while removing his sweat- and water-soaked shirt, subtly turning his body away from Judith.

 

“You’re not using my fever as an excuse to get handsy, are you? That’s not cool to do to a sick man.”

 

Watching him fumble with his shirt, Judith clenched her teeth.

 

“If you don’t quit it, I’m going to wrap you head to toe in quilts, seriously.”

 

***

 

Is this what they mean by someone who only talks big?

 

Erne, who had been whining about how bitter and sweet the medicine was, quickly fell asleep.

 

His waking hours were noticeably growing shorter.

 

Judith stood up with the basin of now-lukewarm water.

 

“My sleeves are soaked.”

 

She had been dipping the towel in water so often that her sleeves were drenched.

 

She returned to her room briefly to change clothes.

 

“What was Erne thinking, saying something like that…”

 

Wouldn’t it be better for you if I died?, he had said.

 

Judith assumed it was one of his usual offhanded, mean jokes. But given the circumstances, it didn’t sit right.

 

It almost sounded like… a final farewell.

 

Joke or not, Judith felt a pang.

 

She had to admit—back when Erne first came back to life, she hadn’t been thrilled about it.

 

With his return, she had to split the title and the mansion sale money she had believed were hers alone.

 

But if you asked whether she still felt the same way now…

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

Honestly, she would probably feel regretful when the time came to split the house value.

 

But not once did she ever wish for Erne to die again because of it.

 

She didn’t want him dead.

 

At some point, she had fully adapted to life with Erne.

 

Waking up to bicker in the mornings, eating together, sharing daily routines—

 

If he died now, she’d go back to eating alone, spending days in silence without a single laugh.

 

She had lived like that for years before—it wouldn’t be hard to return to it.

 

And yet…

 

‘I don’t want Erne to die.’

 

That was Judith’s honest feeling.

 

She could have told him that earlier.

 

But…

 

Ugh, just the thought of saying that makes me cringe. No way I could say something like that out loud.

 

Judith scratched her arm awkwardly.

 

She turned off the lamp in her room, preparing to head back to Erne’s.

 

Just then—

 

Neigh—!

 

A loud whinny erupted from the garden.

 

“That spoiled thing! Staying up late after eating all that expensive feed!”

 

Horses weren’t even nocturnal—what was it doing?

 

Clicking her tongue, Judith walked toward the window. That horse was costly. She wondered if something was wrong.

 

“Huh? Why is it crying while looking at me?”

 

Weird. Judith tilted her head in confusion.

 

Knock knock—

 

A knock came from the front door.

 

Knock knock—

 

No one was supposed to be visiting this mansion…