Chapter 13
I wrung out a wet towel and placed it on Prince Claude’s burning forehead.
The medicine seemed to be taking effect, as his breathing gradually became steadier.
Good thing I quickly poured the Lazeren potion into his mouth—otherwise, I would have witnessed a corpse right in front of me.
Worse, I might have even been accused of assassinating the prince.
I shivered at the thought and rubbed my arms.
I was falsely accused and executed in my past life. I can’t let that happen again.
Shaking my head, I looked at the sleeping Prince Claude.
His pale complexion made him look pitiful, yet his perfectly sculpted features remained striking.
[“May I take care of His Highness?”]
[“Yes, Lady. Thanks to you, he has passed the critical stage. But… did you make the Lazeren potion yourself?”]
[“Yes, I personally gathered the herbs and brewed it.”]
[“Ah, as expected of a noble lady from the renowned Rondinella family. The former duchess, who served as the imperial palace’s chief apothecary, was someone I deeply respected.”]
The first person to rush into the room when Prince Claude collapsed was his physician.
He was about to prescribe Cytirien, but I quickly explained the dangers of mana herbs.
Hearing my clear and logical explanation, the doctor was surprised and immediately changed the prescription.
I decided to stay in the bedroom to monitor Claude’s condition since it was his first time taking the Lazeren potion.
And honestly… watching him writhe in pain made me feel a little sorry for him.
The room remained silent except for the steady rhythm of Claude’s breathing.
Time passed, and soon, the golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows.
I removed the wet towel from his forehead and reached out to check his temperature.
Thankfully, the fever had completely subsided.
Just as I was about to pull my hand away, Claude suddenly grabbed my wrist.
His eyes remained tightly shut.
“…Are you awake?”
I cautiously asked, but he only continued his even breathing.
It seemed like he was still asleep.
I carefully tried to peel his fingers off my wrist, one by one.
But just as I left one finger remaining, his face twisted in discomfort, and he tightened his grip even more.
Was he… sleep-talking?
I stared at his large hand wrapped firmly around my wrist.
I considered shaking him off and leaving, but then I noticed something.
His hand was trembling slightly, as if he was having a nightmare.
Right. An apothecary shouldn’t ignore a suffering patient.
Sighing, I gave in to my soft heart and sat back down.
Just one hour.
I would stay until his sleep became a little more peaceful.
Gently, I reached out and smoothed out the furrow between his brows.
[“Your Highness, you must run! We will protect Her Majesty the Empress and Princess Flora!”]
[“No! I can’t! I must protect them myself!”]
In his dream, young Claude ran frantically, gripping a sword.
He stopped, breathless, only to witness a horrifying sight.
With a bloodcurdling scream, his mother’s body was split in two, blood splattering everywhere.
Next, Flora collapsed, her body drenched in red.
Claude fell to his knees, pounding the ground as he wailed.
Then, a white hand suddenly reached out toward him.
Without thinking, he grabbed it.
A gentle warmth, like the wind of May, wrapped around him.
The hand stayed with him, patiently waiting until his trembling body finally calmed down.
As if trying to comfort him.
When Claude eventually woke up, he slowly opened his eyes.
The heavy weight pressing on his chest, like an immovable burden, had vanished.
For the first time, he felt a strange sense of relief.
Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand to brush away the strands of hair tickling his face.
But then he noticed—someone’s arm was resting on his palm.
Turning his head, he saw Aselin, fast asleep beside him, her arm draped over his.
His gaze fell on her long, silver hair, cascading like flowing water over the bed.
…Why am I holding this woman’s arm?
Frowning, he instinctively tried to pull away but hesitated.
Could it be… that the hand in my dream was hers?
Surprisingly, the physical contact didn’t feel unpleasant.
Rather, it was soothing—like his heart, once burning like a furnace, had been submerged in a calm, cooling lake.
Using the excuse of just waking up, Claude decided to stay like this for a little while longer.
His eyes lingered on Aselin, who was still in deep sleep.
Her lips moved slightly, as if she were eating something delicious in her dreams.
Suddenly, he recalled his last moments before losing consciousness—
Aselin, carefully tilting a bottle to pour medicine into his mouth.
So that purple potion really worked…
Lost in thought, Claude closed his eyes again.
A few minutes later, Aselin stirred and slowly lifted herself up.
Carefully, she tried to slip her arm from his grasp.
This time, unlike before, he easily let go—perhaps he had fallen into a deeper sleep.
Just as she turned to leave—
“Lady Rondinella.”
A deep, drowsy voice filled the room.
Startled, Aselin turned back to find Claude sitting up in bed.
She quickly masked her surprise with a polite smile.
“Ah, I must have woken you up. I’m sorry. I’ll leave right away.”
She moved to exit before he could grow irritated—
“Is your offer to be my fake wife still valid?”
His unexpected words froze her in place.
Eyes wide, she turned to face him.
His gaze, sharper than a drop of fresh blood, locked onto hers.
“…Yes. If Your Highness allows it.”
“Then let’s do it. Become my fake wife and try to cure me.”
Aselin blinked in disbelief.
Honestly, she had been ready to give up and leave.
But now…
What a lucky break.
With a bright smile, she responded,
“Think of it as borrowing the position of a wife for just one year. In return, I will definitely heal you.”
“If you have any other demands, say them now.”
“No, I ask for nothing else.”
Her serene blue eyes gleamed through her long silver lashes.
Claude’s gaze drifted downward to the bandage wrapped around her neck.
A memory surfaced—
The day they met in the forest, when he had pressed a blade to her throat.
His expression darkened momentarily before he refocused on her.
“Why only one year? Why that specific timeframe?”
Aselin answered with a lighthearted smile.
“Once I restore my family’s honor, I plan to move to a quiet village and grow medicinal herbs. That’s my dream.”
“…That’s all?”
“Yes. I realized that kind of simple life makes me the happiest.”
She beamed, unaware that her dream would never come true.
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
“Aselin has been acting really suspicious lately. She’s not making the medicines she’s supposed to, and she’s always running around somewhere. I can’t figure out what she’s up to.”
“I know, Brother! I’m worried too! She even forced—no, threatened—me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding!”
“What? Aselin threatened you?”
Rachel’s green eyes sparkled as she nodded.
She pouted cutely and rested her head on Pierre’s shoulder.
Pierre’s face flushed red.
Even though they were cousins, he had secretly admired Rachel for a long time.
Sensing an opportunity, Pierre slyly wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Rachel. I’ll put Aselin in her place.”
“How will you do that, Brother?”
Rachel gazed up at him with wide, deer-like eyes, making his heart race.
Just as he was about to get lost in her gaze—
“Duke, Baron Alex has arrived.”
A maid’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.
“Baron Alex? Bring him to the drawing room.”
Rachel immediately jumped up, and Pierre’s arm awkwardly fell back to his side.
“Brother, aren’t you going with me?”
Rachel asked as she checked her outfit in the mirror.
“I’ll pass. But why is he here? Aselin isn’t even home.”
“He must have some business. Well then, I’ll be going.”
Rachel fluttered her dress elegantly and stepped out of the room.
Pierre watched her leave, then took a deep breath and crossed his arms.
Lately, Aselin was giving him a headache.
Not long ago, she had said she would only make medicine if he gave her 90% of the profits. He thought she was joking and ignored it.
But to his shock, she actually stopped making medicine altogether.
He knew the formula for the old medicines, so he managed to keep the factory running.
But the real problem was the investors.
If Alex found out that Aselin was no longer helping, he would immediately withdraw his investment.
Or worse, he might demand that Pierre give Aselin 90% just to keep the medicine production going.
On top of that, if they didn’t keep developing new medicines, the investment would shrink, and the factory could end up shutting down.
Damn it!
Pierre rubbed the back of his neck, cursing under his breath.
To make things worse, he relied on Aselin’s ointment for his severe skin rashes, so he couldn’t afford to push her too hard.
How was he supposed to control that wild horse of a woman?
After thinking for a while, a sly, twisted grin formed on his lips.
• ❁ • ❁ • ❁ •By Freya• ❁ • ❁ • ❁ •
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