Ko-fi shop has been updated, you can find the link at the end of the chapter.
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“Master, are you all right?”
“And if I’m not?”
“But you ate food that was poisoned. Shouldn’t we call for the doctor?”
“Do you think there’s a doctor in this palace?”
Felix casually replied while moving the charcoal in his hand. Diana suddenly became aware of something she had overlooked for weeks. There was no doctor in this place responsible for the crown prince’s health. Even Viscount Defierre’s household employed a personal physician, yet there wasn’t one in the crown prince’s palace.
However, Chef Harper had eaten the Beef Bourguignon he had personally prepared and poisoned, and he was now dead. What if the master had taken even a bite of it? Or worse, what if he had been consuming poisoned food all along? Diana was struck by fear.
“Is there anywhere you feel unwell? If you allow me, I’ll go to the main palace and bring a doctor.”
It had been a long time since she’d felt so frustrated by her blindness. Unable to observe his expression, Diana reached out to find her master’s wrist. If she could check his pulse… But her hastily outstretched hand touched not his wrist but the charcoal he was holding. The charcoal slid, leaving an unsightly mark on the canvas.
Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew she’d made a mistake. Diana instinctively shrank her neck. She wasn’t sure when the irritation that had been piling up in him since earlier would explode.
Yet her concern overpowered her fear.
“Master, before the poison spreads, quickly—”
“What, are you afraid you’ll be accused if I collapse?”
“Pardon?”
Now that she thought about it, that could happen. If the crown prince were assassinated in his palace, Diana, the only maid here, wouldn’t be able to escape suspicion either.
“Well, that is certainly one concern…”
Even so, how could she stand idly by when someone might collapse at any moment—especially someone who had just escaped an assassination attempt?
“You may not see it, but you should know what just happened here.”
“I’m not Harper’s maid, but yours, Master.”
The scratching sound of the charcoal stopped. Diana felt as though he was looking at her with a hint of approval.
“You learn quickly.”
The charcoal began moving again. His sketching was unhesitant. Diana no longer wondered what kind of scene was unfolding on his canvas. Instead, she found herself curious about how many such pictures he had drawn so far.
Diana had been working here for quite some time now. Including today, the crown prince had begun a new painting three times. That meant there had been three assassination attempts. Once every four days.
Felix glanced at the restless Diana and said nonchalantly, “If you want to work here for a long time, get used to it. This is a place where anything can happen.”
He spoke as though it was nothing remarkable. Diana stammered.
“This isn’t… an odd issue?”
“And you only just realized that? I thought you were smart, but I guess not entirely.”
“Then since when…?”
“About the time you claimed to have started working for the Osfil household.”
The crown prince remained indifferent, as if he’d accepted his fate after 13 years of countless assassination threats.
Who could have ordered Chef Harper to do such a thing? Or Butler Emel? Were they both spies sent by Prince Aizen?
Aizen hadn’t only planted Diana here. She wanted to seek advice from the newly arrived Butler or stableman, but now she couldn’t. They, too, might be spies sent by someone else.
Why were there so few servants here? Why did the entire palace reek of blood? Why was the crown prince more sensitive and prickly than the rumors suggested? Diana finally understood it all.
Just a week ago, Emel had died. Today, it was Chef Harper. By tomorrow, a new chef would likely be hired. Diana couldn’t even begin to guess how many servants had passed through this place.
Every spy caught here was personally dealt with by the crown prince. Diana’s heart pounded as though it would shatter her ribs and leap out.
What about me?
Would I end up like that too?
No. If that were the case, I’d have been killed the day my identity was suspected. There must be a reason he’s keeping me alive.
Perhaps as long as she didn’t directly attempt to assassinate him, he might turn a blind eye. Diana struggled to calm her racing heart.
Some amount of time passed—she couldn’t tell how long. Listening to the irregular scratching of the charcoal, a new question occurred to her.
“Master.”
“What?”
“Why don’t you select your own staff?”
“Whether I choose them or not makes little difference.”
The crown prince didn’t manage the personnel of his palace at all. Even after such an unfortunate incident, he continued moving his brush as if nothing had happened. Diana could sense the deep resignation and dejection emanating from him.
The crown prince had spent his entire time in the secluded palace surrounded by assassination attempts.
Even the maid who attended his baths couldn’t be trusted.
Diana realized with a chill that she, too, was just another element of the dangers surrounding him. The only ones truly on his side here were a few shadow-like bodyguards.
“May I ask what you’re drawing?”
“My day of survival.”
“Don’t you draw other things?”
“Such as?”
“Peaceful, beautiful things, like nature or cherished people…”
There was no answer. Not even a snort of disbelief, a scoff, or the sound of him clicking his tongue at an impertinent maid. Only the scratching of the charcoal against the canvas.
It must’ve been a question unworthy of a response.
So, had he been alone for the past 13 years?
Over the past few weeks, Diana had noticed his peculiar habits, preferences, isolated daily routines, and excessively rigid vigilance. If all of these stemmed from countless threats to his life…
Diana suddenly felt sorry for him, unaware of how absurd it was to harbor such feelings.
***
Unlike usual, Felix didn’t linger over the canvas for long. After roughly finishing a sketch in just an hour, he carelessly tossed aside the charcoal and retreated to his bedroom.
It seems we need a physician….
Judging by his apparent indifference, he must have developed a resistance to most poisons. That’s probably why he remained so calm, even knowing he had been poisoned.
The new Butler, who belatedly rushed to the kitchen, let out a dismal groan but took no action. Since the Crown Prince hadn’t laid down an undercoat, the body was left as it was in the kitchen.
As Diana racked her brain in worry, she decided to head to the bathroom and fill the tub with water. Before long, she heard her master entering the bathroom.
However, unlike usual, there were no instructions for her to follow him inside. Diana hesitated outside the bathroom door, then cautiously knocked.
“Master, it’s Diana. I’m coming in.”
There was no response, but it wasn’t a distance where her voice couldn’t be heard. As she hesitated for a moment, an odd intuition guided her.
“Master?”
As always, the bathroom was filled with humid steam. There was no sound of water rippling. No sign of human presence. No, it was faint—almost too faint. Diana grew uneasy.
Unknowingly, she heightened her senses to their limits. The billions of water particles in the bathroom became her eyes and ears.
Her master was behind the bathtub, seemingly leaning against the wall.
“Master…?”
A foreboding feeling struck her mind. Diana threw down a towel and a fresh robe, then rushed behind the tub. His breathing was slower and deeper than she remembered.
His robe, soaked with water, hung heavily.
“Leave. You’re noisy.”
Felix swatted her hand away irritably. At that moment, driven by a surge of courage, Diana firmly grabbed his hand.
“Master, your body is hot. It feels like you’re burning up. Are you all right?”
It was clear—this was a sign of poisoning. Even if his resistance kept the symptoms mild, he couldn’t possibly be unaffected.
Diana called out to him again, but this time, he didn’t even respond.
“W-What should I do…?”
What could she do? She couldn’t just let him die like this.
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