Chapter 29

Lyssel stayed by Iberin's side all night.

Even when she woke up at dawn and found him still there beside her, she couldn't believe how startled she was.

"You're not sleeping?"

She'd taken her medicine and slept, but she had managed to get a decent stretch in, so waking up early made sense.

Ether, meanwhile, was out cold.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry for not paying attention to that child."

Watching him apologize like he'd been waiting all night to get it out, Iberin dipped her head and laughed.

"You've been reflecting on it?"

"Yes."

"What did you reflect on, exactly?"

"…For leaving the boy on his own."

"That's all?"

"…I know that child carries my blood. But I didn't think that was reason enough for me to pay attention to him."

"Why?"

"Because it felt obvious. But I don't want you to be angry with me. I'm afraid of being hated, too."

This man really did toss out things like that without batting an eye, Iberin thought.

Maybe the lack of any immunity to it was exactly what made him so unembarrassed.

"You're saying you'll treat Ether well because you're scared I'll hate you?"

"I'll try."

Iberin nodded slowly.

At least try was something.

All she could do was pray this body held out long enough for Ether and Lyssel to genuinely warm up to each other.

"Even so, I haven't fully forgiven you yet."

"…Right. What should I do, then?"

"When Ether wakes up, ask him if he slept well, then apologize for not being there when he wasn't feeling well—and give him a kiss."

"…Pardon?"

"Ask if he slept well, apologize, and kiss him."

"……A kiss."

"Don't want to?"

"……Couldn't I… do something else?"

"Kiss! Him!"

"If I do it… you'll forgive me…?"

He clearly couldn't muster the courage, but apparently being hated by Iberin really wasn't an option. Lyssel asked it in a slightly shaky voice.

"No. I'm not that easy."

"…There's more?"

Lyssel's face twisted into something dreadful.

---

Lyssel clearly hated the idea of kissing and tried mumbling his way out of it any number of times, but Iberin wouldn't budge.

In the end, Ether woke up.

"Mommy! When did you wake up? Are you okay now?"

The second his eyes opened, Lyssel didn't even register—Ether's worried gaze went straight to Iberin.

"Med'cine, do you need med'cine? Did you have it? Should Ether go fetch the physician?"

He'd just woken up, and somehow he was already worrying about everything—the second he laid eyes on Iberin, all his sleepiness vanished.

"Mommy's fine. Ether, more importantly, your father has something to say to you."

"Some'thing to say…? His Highness…?"

Ether tilted his head slightly and looked at Lyssel.

Lyssel flinched.

And Ether flinched right back the same way.

Astonishingly, the lookalike father and son were both staring at each other with tense expressions, eyes darting around.

Pressing down hard on a laugh, Iberin cleared her throat and jabbed Lyssel in the side.

Lyssel reached a hand toward Ether, and Ether reflexively squeezed his eyes shut.

Of course, Lyssel had never once raised a hand to Ether, but it was pure reflex.

"I'm not hitting you."

"…Oh, okay."

Astonishingly, Lyssel was using formal speech with Ether too.

"Please step over here for a moment."

His tone was deeply courteous, and Ether unconsciously glanced at Iberin.

Is this okay? The look was clearly asking for confirmation, and Iberin gestured at him.

Go on.

Ether hesitated for a moment, then carefully made his way over and stood in front of Lyssel.

Lyssel, still wearing the same stiff expression, stood in front of Ether and met his eyes.

"Now please close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"Your eyes. Close them."

Iberin was about to lose it.

She bit down hard on her innocent lip, barely holding back her laughter.

What kind of father treated his own son like he was some noble young lady?

Eventually, Ether couldn't make sense of the situation and closed his eyes anyway. Lyssel squeezed his own eyes shut and gave Ether a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hwaah?"

Ether's eyes shot open and he made a strange noise, locking eyes with Lyssel.

Lyssel, on the other hand, still had his eyes squeezed shut and was rattling off words at machine-gun speed.

"Didyousleepwellsorryforbeingsuchanawfulfatherwhenyouwerenotwell."

Crash!

On top of that, the butler and the physician, who'd been walking in with breakfast, dropped the plates and medicine they were carrying.

"…His… His Highness just…"

"To the young master…! Am I dreaming?"

"Pfft, ahaha!"

Iberin finally lost it and burst out laughing.

---

Until her laughter died down, everyone else was too awkward with each other to speak.

The first to pull himself together—and panic—was the physician.

"M-Mistress! If you laugh that hard, your fever might spike again!"

Every eye in the room snapped to Iberin.

"Are you all right?"

The first to react was Lyssel.

Without hesitation, he pressed his hand to Iberin's forehead.

His cool hand met her burning skin.

Only then did Iberin realize she actually was running a fever.

"She's hot! Physician!"

Iberin's shoulders had gone suddenly limp, and Lyssel grabbed them and carefully laid her down, shouting.

The physician scrambled over to check on her.

"Yes. She's running a slight fever. Let's get her through breakfast first, then I'll prepare something for it."

"See to it."

"The fever seems pretty high to me…"

Lyssel said it, eyes fixed steadily on the physician.

The physician's face went chalk-white.

"Your Highness, stop bullying the poor physician. I'm not running that high a fever."

"Is that so… Then breakfast, quickly…"

The moment Iberin spoke up, he agreed so fast you'd think you were looking at a docile lamb.

She wasn't the only one who couldn't get used to it.

The butler, who'd looked the calmest of the lot, was clearly shaken too.

"Your Highness, may I ask one question?"

Mouth still hanging open in shock, the butler ventured.

"No."

But Lyssel refused without even looking at him and set the soup down in front of Iberin.

"Why isn't there a spoon…?"

There was no spoon.

"…Today, I'll—"

"You'll what."

Iberin could tell what Lyssel was trying to say, but she played dumb and asked.

"…I'll feed you."

Apparently he was being cautious in case he got turned down again today.

That was when Ether, who'd been listening quietly, whipped his head around and chimed in.

"Mommy, Ether's gonna do it!"

"…Wait, what?"

"You fed her yesterday."

"Yesterday was yesterday, today's today. Today's Ether's turn too!"

Lyssel had a firm grip on the spoon and wasn't letting go.

Ether latched onto Iberin and started making whining noises.

"Mommy, Mommy. Today's Ether too, right?"

"……."

Iberin, stuck in the middle, rolled her eyes around in a look of pure dismay.

What. How had it come to this.

The physician, deciding this was more than he could take, slipped out saying he'd go fetch the medicine. The butler, somehow, had taken on a thoroughly entertained expression.

So that's the bar for becoming a Lecashe butler, Iberin thought.

She hesitated, then opened her mouth.

"Take turns feeding me."

Lyssel had, after all, just gone through the ordeal of granting her unreasonable request, so she couldn't quite bring herself to refuse him.

But she didn't want Ether sulking either.

"That's a wonderful idea!"

The butler clapped his hands and broke the tension.

"Now, now, you must eat properly. You must be hungry, Mistress?"

"Yeah. Starving."

Lyssel apparently realized he wasn't going to get full custody of the spoon and nodded.

"Then I'll go first."

He carefully scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Iberin's mouth.

Sip…

"How's the temperature?"

"Good."

"That's a relief."

Lyssel gave a small smile.

What was this, that he was being so serious about it.

Honestly, she was a little better today than yesterday—not really at the point where she needed to be spoon-fed—but she couldn't quite bring herself to say so.

When their exchange ended, Ether stretched out his tiny hand and took over the spoon.

"Mommy, Ether's gonna feed you now!"

At this rate, were they going to start fighting over feeding her even when she wasn't sick?

Iberin had a slightly ominous thought.

---

By the time Iberin was done eating, Lyssel and Ether had only just started their own meals, so the whole thing took ages.

She did look a little more colored in than yesterday, but the physician wasn't taking any chances and gave her a stern lecture.

"Even if you feel like you're getting better, you are absolutely not better. So please, be as careful as you can and always look after your health."

"Understood."

She was only marginally better than yesterday and still didn't have her strength back, so Iberin nodded without argument.

The bigger problem was all the things she'd kicked off—how was she supposed to handle them?

This wasn't the Lecashe estate. This was the capital.

She'd have to head back eventually, but recovering her health any time soon didn't look likely.

And once the trial started, she'd be too anxious to stay put—she'd have to go and see for herself.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Lyssel, but the way he'd been a soft touch his whole life, leaving him alone was like turning a kid loose by the water. And Lyssel was still under the conditioning and hypnosis, which made her even more anxious.

"Has a trial date been set? Will I be recovered by then?"

The instant Iberin brought up the trial, the bedroom went dead silent.

Iberin froze and knit her brow.

"What's this? What's with the silence?"

"Um… try not to be too upset."

"What are you all doing?"

Lyssel struggled to get the words out.

"The trial was canceled. I'm sorry."

"What?"

Iberin's jaw dropped.

"What are you talking about? Why was it suddenly canceled? Did the emperor threaten you? That son of a {bitch!"}(#3isbkz1wtzit)

Convinced this had to be the emperor's doing, Iberin lit up with fury, slammed her hand on the bed and tried to push herself upright—only to let out a small groan and crumple back down.