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The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sickness— dried herbs, ground powders and heavy herbal incense clinging to the walls.
A young nurse carefully tucked the edges of the bedsheets around the patient who lay still. Unconscious.
Eric stood near the window, his gaze fixed on the sky as the clouds slowly drifted apart, allowing sunlight to spill through.
Gentle footsteps entered the room, but Eric did not turn, as though he knew exactly who it was.
"What did you find out?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the window.
The young woman with silver hair cut short at the nape, stood in officially knight attire. Her lips parted to speak, but her gaze flickered to the nurse by the bedside.
Eric narrowed his eyes, waiting for her word, but no response had led him to turn. His gaze followed her line of sight and then he realized.
"Madina," he called out. Her attention fell on him. "She is one of us."
Madina glanced at the nurse a second, who bowed and continued applying treatment to the patient. She gave a slight nod and lifted her gaze to the crown prince.
"You were right, your highness." She said quietly.
"They gathered at the marquis's estate."
Eric's lips curved into a small smile. But his eyes, his eyes were empty. Holding nothing but rage. "So…, they are plotting against me," he said coldly.
His hands clasped behind his back as he turned to face the window. "They must think I am weak." He said, as the anger slipped through on the last word.
Madina's fist tightened. "We could use this," she said. " Corner them for plotting treason." She said,
The room fell silent. The nurse finished administering the medicine. Eric did not turn. His back still faced them. "How is his health?" he asked quietly. "Is he getting better?"
Her eyes never left the floor. "He is barely responding to treatment, your highness," she said calmly. "He has little time… his majesty—"
Eric's head snapped toward her. In an instant, he crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders.
"Don't tell me," he whispered. "You believe my father will die?" The nurse froze. Madina stiffened behind her.
The nurse lifted her eyes briefly and met him, but immediately looked away.
"The only reason he still lives is the treatment." She said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "If his body adapts to it like the previous ones. Then it will give out."
"Then increase the dosage!!" He yelled. His eyes went wild. The nurse's blood ran cold. Fear spreading across her face.
Madina quickly gave Eric a tap on his hands. His gaze drifted towards her, then he released the nurse.
He turned his head towards the bed. His sick father, lying nearly lifeless under the sheets.
His steps were slow and heavy. And then he sank beside him, his eyes burned with rage and tears as he cupped his father's thin arms, and pressed them against his face.
"Father," he whispered. "Please don't die. Not now. Not yet." His voice broke. "I still need you." then bowed his head, pressing them into his palm.
Madina's expression softened with pity. She could see how deeply he was hurting. She tightened her fist. "Your highness," she called out quietly. "What should we do?"
Eric's gaze slowly lifted, and he turned to her.
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Ray woke up that morning feeling light. As though a heavy burden had just been lifted off her shoulders. But, the translucent icon appeared, and the weight returned.
Although she had made progress with the Duke. Even if only a little. But a fact still remained, it wasn't enough to get him re-engaged to her.
And she currently had nineteen days left to live.
The timer pulsed faintly, indifferent to her thoughts.
Ray let out a breath and dropped her head into her palms, exhausted. That morning, had been spent recalling, then scribbling down every scene that had once led to Lucian falling in love with Aleena.
Most of them, which had happened after he had already begun liking her, and the others before— were not convenient. Mostly involved, kidnapping and near death experiences.
In her original story, Lucian hadn't needed much convincing before falling in love with her. Aleena had saved him.
That was all it took, and the moment he discovered she was his savior—
Boom.
He was head over heels, obsessed and devoted to her. IfCelestine had saved him instead, Ray thought. Would things have been easier?
Then suddenly, her thought got broken when she noticed Elara handing Gaia a box before leaving the room. Ray straightened, as curiosity lit up across her face.
"Gaia," she called. Gaia stopped and inclined head, a polite smile etched on her lips. "My lady, do you need anything?"
"No," Ray said slowly, her eyes still on the box. "Where are you going?" She asked "And what is in this box?"
Gaia's eyes flicked to the package, then she answered with a soft smile. "Madam Elara instructed me to return the coats to the Duke's estate."
Ray's eyes widened. This was it.
An excuse to linger around Lucian. To remain in his thoughts. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she asked, "can I come with you?"
Surprise flickered across Gaia's lightly freckled face. "My lady… are you sure?"
"Of course" Ray waved her hands. "It will be fun. Just a little girl's day out."
"Girls…day out?" Gaia repeated, confused.
"Like a ladies outing," Ray explained. Gaia's eyes widened in realization, then quickly bowed her head. "My lady, that can't be. Such things are meant for noble ladies only."
She hesitated, then added softly, "I am only a servant."
Ray's expression fell just slightly. "Maybe," she added, "but you're also my personal maid, who I consider a friend."
Gaia lifted her head in shock. "My lady…. You shouldn't say such things. If madam Elara finds out…"
"She won't," Ray cut in gently. "It'll be our secret."
Her lips curved into a warm smile and Gaia's cheeks flushed into a deep red. Ray slipped her arm through towers and tugged her forward. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."
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Ray and Gaia arrived at the Duke's estate, only to be informed that he had left earlier that morning on official business.
Although disappointed, she was not surprised. Ray decided to take the coat back with her and requested she would return them personally next time.
On their way back, Ray leaned against the carriage seat, staring out the window, admiring the streets and the passersby. Then a thought came to mind.
"It would be such a waste," she muttered, "to go all this way and not enjoy ourselves at least once. She said and glanced at Gaia seated across the carriage.
Gaia blinked. "My lady?"
She couldn't understand what she meant by that.
Ray was silent for a bit then, her eyes lit up with an idea. "The bread," Ray said, and drew closer to the edge. "The one we couldn't have last time."
Gaia exclaimed in realization. "Ah!" She nodded, then quickly instructed the coachman on where to go.
The carriage slowed, before it came to a stop by the familiar shop. Gaia requested her lady stay behind while she goes inside instead.
And Ray nodded in agreement. The carriage was silent, Ray turned her gaze towards the streets and something caught her eyes.
Across the street, a young boy stood—no older than sixteen, Gaia's age. His clothes were worn out, his hands trembling slightly as he held out fillers to passersby.
Some took them, but none read. Others tossed them onto the muddy ground without giving it a glance. Ray watched as the boy bent down, again and again. Picking up the discarded papers.
His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with something sharper than desperation. Then suddenly, the shop owner stormed out, holding a broom in his hand.
"Get lost!" The man braked, swinging the broom towards him. "You are scaring away my customers!"
The boy remained calm as he spoke. "But I was just passing my fliers" he said, his voice maintaining a polite composure. "I wasn't doing anything to scare anyone."
"Don't try to act clever with me, boy." The man groaned in irritation. "Now get lost."
But, the boy didn't move. He only tightened his grip on the fliers.
Then suddenly the broom came down, smacking his hands, and knocking down the fliers into mud. The man didn't stop there, he swung the broom stick again, clipping the side of the boy's head.
The boy staggered, but held his ground. His hand pressed onto his head where he had been hit. But his eyes stared at the fliers, soaked and ruined in the mud. His gaze burned with rage.
He clenched his teeth, slowly he straightened. "People are disappearing, " he said, his voice shaking, not from fear but anger.
"And all you care about are those willing to pay for your service? How pathetic." he hissed.
The man's face twisted into rage. "How dare you, you good for nothing brat!" He jabbed a finger at him.
The boy laughed. Short and bitter. "A good for nothing?" A smirk curved on his lips. "Then you must be one too, we are both commoners, remember."
The man stiffened.
"Grovelling at the feet of nobles doesn't make you better than those who refuse to," the boy continued. "It just makes you louder."