* * *
“What if I collapse out there—then what…?”
“You should listen to your maid. Just because your body feels better doesn’t mean you should start running around again.”
“…!”
A voice cut in between us.
Linda flinched and quickly stepped aside, bowing deeply.
And there, stepping into view, was one of the few people who didn’t need an appointment to show up whenever she pleased—Countess Valuncio.
I’d heard she’d visited while I was away, but I didn’t expect her to come again so soon.
“You’re here.”
I quickly adjusted my expression and posture, bowing to hide the awkwardness.
The Countess simply gazed at me in silence.
There was no warmth in her gaze, nor any particular emotion.
But she didn’t seem displeased, either.
A calm, unreadable air — the very image of an elegant noblewoman.
“I apologize. If I had known you were coming, I would have prepared properly.”
“No need. I was just passing by and thought to check on you. No need to trouble yourself with tea, either. So it’s true your condition has improved?”
What I meant to say was that I would have liked her to give some notice before coming, but perhaps because I said it indirectly, it didn’t get across at all.
Or maybe she had no intention of understanding me in the first place.
Linda, who had been about to move, stopped in her tracks at the Countess’s mention of not needing tea.
As if trying to figure out whether the words were mere politeness or sincere, she exchanged a glance with the Countess’s maid.
The maid rolled her eyes subtly in response.
After that silent exchange, Linda stayed still, not moving an inch.
It seemed the Countess really did intend to leave shortly.
When the Countess gave a small nod, one of the maids standing behind her stepped forward and offered something out.
“It’s Lapintan and kale juice — good for restoring health. The healer advised against sending food before, but it should be fine now, yes?”
“Ah! Yes. Thank you very much.”
Linda carefully received the items.
The box was quite large and heavy — it must’ve contained quite a lot.
Was this her way of expressing concern?
A gesture to help me regain my strength?
So previously, even sending food was forbidden.
It seemed the healer had been quite strict while I was gone.
Considering I might not return for a while, leaving food to spoil or risking servants secretly eating it would’ve been problematic.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave. Take care of your health.”
“Yes. Please go safely.”
With that, the Countess turned and walked away, passing between her attendants with serene grace.
It really seemed her only purpose was to deliver the food.
There was no sign of lingering affection in her retreating figure.
She could’ve easily sent a servant to do this.
‘She’s harder to read than I thought.’
Besides, this wasn’t even part of her usual walking route.
There was nowhere of interest in this direction.
Could she have really come all this way out of concern?
“I’ll serve this for lunch.”
“Thanks.”
Either way, this meant I couldn’t go out today.
Linda, realizing I had given up, was all smiles.
If I insisted on going now, she’d probably scold me for ignoring the Countess’s words.
‘If only Klen were here…’
If he were by my side, things would’ve been different.
No matter who tried to stop us, we could’ve pushed through.
A pity.
‘When is he coming back?’
In the end, I sprawled out just like he would, limbs flopped carelessly, munching on a cookie.
I had no choice but to rest today.
Just one day — surely nothing drastic would happen in that time.
*
Resting so thoroughly, evening came in no time.
Klen returned, looking worse than the day before, and immediately collapsed onto the sofa.
His body, soaked in exhaustion, resembled a soggy piece of cotton.
Just how hard had they worked him?
Or rather, perhaps he had been soaked in endless questions and nagging.
‘Ah, right.’
That’s when I remembered the medicine the healer gave me — it was supposed to relieve fatigue.
I reached for the pouch I had set aside.
Since I hadn’t packed anything else, my hand quickly found the bottle.
The color alone was enough to kill anyone’s appetite — unmistakably the work of a healer.
Hopefully effective, though drinking it might be the real challenge.
“Klen. I have something that’ll help with your fatigue.”
“……”
Sprawled on the sofa in a way that would’ve made Linda fume, Klen only rolled his eyes toward the bottle before looking away again.
“Here, drink it.”
“…If you drink it first, then I’ll drink it too.”
A familiar exchange — words we had traded once before.
“I had a good meal today, made from quality ingredients. I’m fine.”
“I heard Sir Willoy and the Countess sent something.”
“Which is why this is for you. Ah, Madeleine also sent raspberry tart. You could have that as a palate cleanser.”
Offering dessert after medicine — I sounded like someone coaxing a child.
Watching him carefully, I fiddled with the bottle, but his lips curled slightly in amusement, not irritation.
“You can eat that too.”
Then, as if he had lost interest, he slumped back again.
With a sigh, I stood up, medicine in hand, and walked over to him.
There was no helping it.
If it came to this, I might have to force him.
“You really won’t drink it?”
“I’ll be fine without it.”
What I intended as a polite final warning was cleanly rejected.
I placed my hand on the cap, eyes locked on Klen.
The moment I opened it, the smell would spread.
He was quick to react.
I focused all my attention on him, studying his every tiny movement.
If I didn’t get the bottle to his mouth the moment I opened it, I’d miss my chance.
Normally, I wouldn’t go this far — but his condition was bad enough that I felt I had to.
“…Adrian?”
Perhaps confused by my silence, he looked up at me.
That was my opening.
As he let his guard down, I swiftly popped the cap and lunged for his mouth.
Clink—
“…!”
The liquid inside the bottle sloshed violently — and my hand stopped midair.
Despite having looked half-dead on the sofa, Klen had grabbed my wrist and raised it, keeping the bottle perfectly upright, not a single drop spilled.
His reaction time had exceeded all expectations.
He had seemed too out of it to do anything — but just as I had watched him carefully, he had been watching me too.
“I’ve never seen anyone try to sneak a health tonic on someone like poison.”
Even knowing it was good for him, he blocked me.
A strange tension, like a sparring match, hung between us.
We watched each other’s every move with total focus.
If this were real sparring, it might be easier.
“Then why not just drink it quietly?”
“I drink bitter medicine just fine, usually.”
His point was clear — this wasn’t your average bitterness.
When I tried to press down on his shoulder with my other hand, he blocked it immediately.
Now both my hands were caught, as if we were grappling.
His movements, devoid of any playfulness, were fast as ever.
The bottle tilted, then righted again.
Matching my speed effortlessly — it was almost fun to watch.
Maybe he’d agree to an actual sparring session sometime.
“Really not going to drink it?”
“I told you — I will, if you do.”
“There’s only one bottle.”
“Then it’s better that you take it, since it’s so valuable.”
“Ah—!”
* * *
