28 — My Stomach Hurts!

A multitude of plates were brought in one after another and placed on the long dining table.

Ah, that’s right. His favorite food changes by the day! It completely slipped my mind.

But when my mother and father-in-law were visiting recently, I feel like breakfast went differently.

How strange.

The number of plates in front of me, as well, were rapidly multiplying.

The portions were smaller, as I’d hoped they’d be, but they were portions of exactly the same dishes that were being served to Mr. Fisalis.

Dishes made with luxurious, rich ingredients.

Nooo, this is too much for so early in the day!

My cheek twitched slightly in shock and horror.

Thank goodness Dahlia delivered my message to Cartham for me.

I didn’t want this to be the case, but all I could think about was my usual servants’ lunch.

I have two options: either I don’t eat it and end up being That Girl, or I do eat it and condemn myself to intestinal terrorism.

In typical ‘me’ fashion, I was utterly repulsed at the idea of wasting food. Mother would scold me if I didn’t clean my plate.

I don’t know what else to say, other than that you can take a person out of poverty, but you can’t take the poverty out of a person, so staging an all-out war in my stomach was preferable to leaving food on my plate.

I glared at the plates of food while a council in my mind rapidly convened under the banner of “commitment to combating gastrointestinal terrorism.”

“Everything looks delicious.”

The sound of Mr. Fisalis’ voice brought me back to reality. All of the food had been brought out and placed on the table.

“ ...it sure does.” Steeling myself, I picked up my fork and knife.

Zero hour is upon us.

...okay, maybe that’s a little extreme for just breakfast.

A little while later:

I was absolutely annihilated by the enemy. The end.

It was delicious. So delicious that I moaned out loud; actually Cartham really put his heart and soul into that food. And he and his team were thoughtful enough to only put one or two bites on my plates.

My stomach was doing fine at first, enough that I was able to enjoy the food, but come the midway point things took a turn for the worse... in the form of stabbing pain.

This seems like a sign that I’m approaching my limit.

In spite of that, I covered it up by interspersing the heavy foods with light salad and kept on eating, but then suddenly, I couldn’t take any more.

This realization came with a remarkably sharp pain.

I can’t hold out anymore!

My stomach gurgled loudly.

THONK.

“ ...owww!”

Hand over my stomach, I smacked my forehead hard on the table as my body was bent in half by the pain.

“Viola!?”

“Eek! Madam!”

“Madam!? Are you quite alright!?”

I was aware that my sudden crisis had sent Mr. Fisalis, Rohtas, Dahlia, and Mimosa into panic, but all I could focus on at the moment was the pain. Smacking my forehead on the table only added insult to injury.

“I-I’m. I’m fi...ine. My stomach, just. Started to hurrr—” I struggled to get the words out under all this agony. I was completely incoherent.

“You’re not well! Mimosa, get her bed ready! I’ll carry her!”

Mimosa watched as Mr. Fisalis rushed over to where I was still slumped in my chair; he put one arm around my shoulders, the other under my legs, and picked me up.

Then Mimosa hurried ahead of him toward my room.

“She’s so pale. There could have been something in her food. It doesn’t seem as if there was anything in mine, though...” he murmured. No, I wanted to respond, this isn’t food poisoning. This is just what it looks like when a stomach meant for plain food is fed too much lavish cuisine.

I know this looks like I’m being incredibly overdramatic, but...

“Er, um...” Dahlia stammered, at a loss for words at the thought of my suffering.

If this were food poisoning, it would be Cartham’s fault, but I’d be humiliated if she found out the truth, too. I’m sorry for making you have to ask him the tough question, Dahlia.

“That’s alright. Save it for later. We should get her to her room first.”

“As you wish.”

I could hear the conversation happening from my position in Mr. Fisalis’ arms. At the rate things were going, I was certain they’d blame Cartham, but I was rendered useless by the pain.

I’ll defend your innocence once I’m better, Cartham! Forgive me for not being able to defend you now!

I was laid on my bed as soon as we got to my room.

“I’ll call for a doctor, so please, just rest.” Mr. Fisalis brushed my strawberry blonde fringe away from my forehead as he peered at my face.

“No... it’s no... t. A... s bad as it. Looks. Some... medicinal her... bs will work. Just... fine.”

My speech is uncoordinated, but I think he understood me.

I just need some herbal medicine that will treat the pain—or rather, accelerate digestion. Bellis grows some in the corner of the garden.

“No. For pain this serious, you should see a doctor.” His expression was grim, creases forming between his eyebrows, but if he called a doctor, all they’d say is, “It’s just a tummy ache—she shocked her stomach by eating extravagant food too quickly! Ah ha ha ha!” I’d be a laughing stock.

When he wouldn’t listen to me, I put my hand up, signaling him to stop, and made my request again. “I—I mean. It. I’ll. Be fine. Have Mi... mosa. Bring me... some. Medicinal herbs.”

A quick conversation happened through eye contact alone between Mr. Fisalis and Mimosa:

“Bring us some digestive herbs!”

“Roger!”

Ugh... I’ve broken out in a cold sweat.

Mimosa! I need those herbs ASAP, por favor!

“Right away, sir! I’ll be right back!” she said, turning and dashing from the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want a doctor?” Mr. Fisalis tried again, not backing down.

You’re exceptionally stubborn today, aren’t you?

Look, I won’t be the only one who’ll be embarrassed if you call a doctor, so drop it.

I gathered my strength to respond.

“Ye... s.” I tried to smile, although even my face felt weak, but Mr. Fisalis’ face fell at my attempt.

“It hurts that badly!? Good grief, you’re really... ”

Guess he mistook my smile for a face twisted in excruciating pain.

Welp.

Just then, Cartham came running into the room instead of Mimosa.

“Madame! I heard that your stomach was troubling you! Are you alright? I am so sorry!” he said.

In the blink of an eye, he had glided over to my bedside, and no sooner had he come to stand by Mr. Fisalis, than he took my hand and planted a kiss on it! His smooth moves hadn’t suffered even a bit.

But the gesture wasn’t brimming with its usual self-confidence. Instead, his brows were upturned in worry.

Huh, hot guys still look good even when they’re frowning.

No fair.

“Yes, I’m. Fiiine. I’ll be all. Bet... ter once I. Go to. Sleep.” Just as I was pulling my feeble hand away from him like I always did, Mr. Fisalis peeled Cartham’s hand off of mine.

Thank you! I thought to myself for a split second, before I realized that now it was Mr. Fisalis who was holding my hand.

“Cartham, are you sure you didn’t make any mistake preparing the food today?” he said to Cartham in a low voice, dripping with intimidation.

Cartham is being falsely accused, Mr. Fisalis! Or rather, all of the servants in the manor know that the cause of my pain is simply eating overly luxurious food. They’re just staying silent to protect my honor.

“Of course, I exercised my usual diligence and made everything with love. No errors were made,” he told Mr. Fisalis with a respectfully lowered gaze. Still, Mr. Fisalis’ own dagger-like gaze seemed to pierce through him.

He’s enraged at the thought of scandal (can you even call this a scandal?) among his staff.

It’s quite the opposite, though. Forgive me for saying so, Cartham, but you make the food for the servants in a much more relaxed manner than the food to be served to Mr. Fisalis and his girlfriend.

How the servants’ food doesn’t upset my stomach is the real mystery.

Ergh.

This whole melodrama is all because the bacteria in my gut couldn’t hold their own against breakfast.

It’s also their fault that I can’t talk about it, which in turn means I can’t defend or explain myself!

And that’s made for a very uncomfortable feeling in the air.

“Master, you’ll be late if you don’t leave now. Please leave Madam to me.” Rohtas’ matter-of-fact tone cut through the unpleasant atmosphere in the room.