ICMMF | Chapter 2

Episode 2

“I shall instruct them to prepare the meal. But first, please wash up.”

Emmet’s words were polite. The consistent respect he showed resembled the demeanor of the butler from her mother’s memories.

The mansion was the same. The one in her mother’s memories had been grand, splendid, and serene.

Though the staff moved busily, it wasn’t noisy. It, too, seemed to reflect the nature of the mansion’s owner, just as her mother had thought.

He was said to be away.

Feeling slightly relieved, Lucy looked at Emmet and shook her head as she replied.

“I want to see my mother first. I want to observe the treatment.”

The massive mansion, breathtaking in its beauty, didn’t matter to Lucy.

What mattered was whether the one treating her mother truly understood her illness.

If there was anything he didn’t know, she needed to tell him.

After briefly looking at the child, Emmet confirmed where the lady had been moved and immediately took action.

The family doctor had just begun the examination.

“Mother.”

Letting go of Emmet’s hand, Lucy approached the bed.

She already knew what illness her mother had, so she didn’t ask the doctor anything.

“Ah…”

After only a short examination, the family doctor, Dermot, wore a troubled expression as he looked at Emmet.

“It’s, um, Sleeping Sickness.”

The maid, who had been checking the bed, gasped at the doctor’s words, and Emmet lowered his head with a sorrowful sigh.

He had already suspected it, having seen the sleeping lady at the front gate.

Considering what had happened before her disappearance, it wasn’t surprising.

Sleeping Sickness—also known in the world as the Devil’s Whisper—was incurable.

It typically afflicted those with healing abilities.

The periods of sleep would grow longer until, eventually, the sufferer would never wake again.

It was a terrifying illness. The nickname “Devil’s Whisper” came from the fact that the victims would dream blissfully, far happier than reality.

Ironically, it often struck those who had selflessly healed others. Many high priests within the temple met this end.

“That’s not the issue. Please check for other illnesses.”

Only Lucy, unfazed, urged the doctor.

“Other… illnesses?”

Dermot tilted his head.

Since there was nothing he could do about Sleeping Sickness, he hadn’t looked into any other conditions.

If there was a complication alongside it, the prognosis was bleak.

With proper care, one could live up to ten years with Sleeping Sickness.

Of course, it required a lot of money—but that wasn’t a problem for a ducal family.

Recognizing who the girl was, Dermot cautiously continued the examination.

“Ah… it’s Vapour Disease.”

He had found a completely different illness unrelated to the Sleeping Sickness, which prevented waking due to the complication.

Yet the child’s expression didn’t change, as though she already knew.

“Ageratum, Asop, yellow snapdragon, holy water, and…”

“We need butterfly herb.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

It was surprising that the child knew the prescription, but Dermot’s expression remained grim.

As if the Sleeping Sickness alone wasn’t bad enough—Vapour Disease as well.

It, too, was nearly incurable due to the rare herbs required.

“What’s the problem?”

Emmet asked cautiously.

“We have all the other ingredients, but the butterfly herb is extremely difficult to obtain—no, I’ve only seen it in books…”

Dermot’s voice trailed off.

The young lady who had returned to the ducal household after nearly ten years had an illness beyond his means to treat.

There was no hope.

Emmet also stiffened in panic at the doctor’s words.

The name of the disease and the herb were both unfamiliar to him.

Had the Master not been away, he might’ve found a way. But what could he say to the child who had come here holding onto hope?

“The butterfly herb is in the cart. What I need is holy water.”

At Lucy’s words, Dermot was startled. Only then did Emmet meet her gaze.

“Do you have holy water?”

With a hopeful heart, Lucy looked between the doctor and the butler.

For Lucy, who had lived in the mountains, gathering herbs was no problem.

The spirits had told her what the illness was and which herbs were needed, so finding even the rare butterfly herb hadn’t been difficult.

But there was one thing even the spirits couldn’t get her.

Holy water—only sold by the temple.

Though the spirits had told her where the temple was, she had no money to buy it, nor could she leave her mother behind for such a long journey.

If not for the holy water, she would never have left that peaceful and safe mountain.

Especially not for this place her mother had constantly fled from.

“Of course we have holy water! But—are you saying you really have butterfly herb?”

Dermot asked again, and Emmet instructed a maid to fetch the cart’s contents immediately.

Lucy nodded firmly.

This place really did have holy water. She could finally treat her mother.

She had agonized over the decision and endured many difficult days to come here—but now, none of that mattered.

“Then I’ll…”

Dermot, who had stood up to confirm the butterfly herb, paused as he looked at the child.

Even if Vapour Disease were cured, the lady wouldn’t wake.

He didn’t know how to explain this to the child. But seeing her radiant smile of relief, as though her mother had been completely healed, left him speechless.

Let’s treat the Vapour Disease first. After that…

Dermot decided to delay explaining the Sleeping Sickness for now.

“If I’d known the weather would be this nice, we should’ve gone out to the garden, Madam.”

“Madam? Between us? You should start practicing calling me ‘Mother.’”

Audrey, the Duchess, gave a generous smile to Freya, who was gazing out the window, savoring the breeze.

Freya shyly responded with, “Yes, Mother,” which pleased Audrey greatly.

Freya, second daughter of the Marquis of Ethelred.

It had only been two months since she entered the house of Grand Duke Kreshmir.

The Grand Duke Arden wasn’t aware of this yet, but since he was away, it had been easy to bring her into the mansion.

She had been pursuing Grand Duke Arden for three years now, so she had endured quite a bit.

Countless young ladies whom Audrey had introduced to the Grand Duke flashed through her mind—some she had chosen herself, others sent under the Emperor’s orders.

Most had been driven away by the Duke’s coldness. The only one who’d clung on and even asked for her help was Freya.

Though her reputation wasn’t impressive, she was from a marquis family, and while her red hair and red eyes made her seem fierce, her beauty wasn’t lacking.

Watching Freya silently place her teacup down, Audrey nodded slightly.

See? I’m not greedy.

This level is enough for me.

It was a nod expressing that she wasn’t a greedy person.

The recent decline of the marquisate’s influence was troubling, but it wasn’t a critical flaw.

Though a bit scheming, Freya followed her will well, and she would be useful after marrying the Duke.

But first, the Grand Duke had to return…

It had been six months since Grand Duke Arden had left to subjugate monsters.

He was expected back in a month or two.

Once he returned, they would hold the engagement ceremony right away and get married within the year.

Then the internal affairs of the household would pass to Freya, and she planned to ask for a portion of it.

Despite being the Duchess of Kreshmir, The madam currently had no power at all.

Nine years ago, the Grand Duke had taken everything from her.

As she recalled that time, her grip on the teacup tightened.

It wasn’t much longer now.

Just a bit more patience, and the life of forced frugality and the disgrace of being unable to host a ball at will would be over.

She had to continue flattering Lady Freya of Ethelred and make her realize it was all thanks to her.

That it was she who made her the Grand Duchess, despite her shortcomings.

“Ma- Madam!”

The door burst open, pulling Audrey from her thoughts.

It was Emma, her personal maid, who had been with her since entering the ducal house. Unlike usual, she was flustered.

Audrey slammed her teacup down and turned her head.

Her carefully maintained, wrinkle-free face crumpled with anger.

“M-My apologies, but it was urgent…”

“What on earth is it? Has the Grand Duke returned?”

It was the only urgent matter she could think of, so she quickly composed her face to maintain dignity.

“T-The young lady has returned.”

“Young lady?”

“Lady Aicel!”

“Why would she…!”

Audrey shot to her feet.

How long had it been since she heard that name?

With the Grand Duke away, no one dared speak it in front of her.

She herself had thought the name forgotten.