GDTEA Chapter 126

They Say the Grand Duke is Dead

Sharti thought to herself.

That nobility, noble mansions — they were truly filled with nothing but inconveniences.

“Doctor, shall I brush your hair?”

“Doctor, what scent would you like for today’s foot bath?”

“Doctor, all your clothes are currently being laundered, so we were thinking of going out to purchase a set — do you have any preferred design or color?”

“Doctor, where would you like to have your meal today? Are there any dishes you’d like, or any spices you’d like to avoid?”

“Oh my, Doctor — did you bathe on your own? The Master’s orders were to ring the bell cord freely whenever you need anything.”

It was the second day since she had come to stay at Count Chelonar’s mansion.

Sharti was, against her own intentions, being treated as an honored guest of the Count’s household.

‘Is this even something befitting my station……?’

A bastard princess of a ruined kingdom, being pampered and waited upon by the servants of a count’s mansion, here in the Great Empire of Neweiton — once an enemy nation.

In just two days, Sharti’s hair had grown soft, her skin had become supple, and on top of that, every mealtime was spent lavishing her stomach with rich food.

Her body was comfortable from the excessive hospitality, but guilt blossomed steadily within Sharti’s heart.

‘They call me the doctor who treated the Count’s young lady, but the treatment is far too generous.’

To exaggerate, it felt almost like experiencing a day in the life of a noble young lady.

“Of course, this is something to be grateful for.”

Guided by a servant, Sharti stepped into Count Chelonar’s mansion’s study today as well, just as she had the day before.

True to the Chelonar family’s reputation for sparing no expense on learning, the mansion’s study was magnificent in the imperial fashion.

‘The first time I was given permission to enter, I nearly fainted.’

In fact, Tein, who had come along, had kept his mouth hanging open for half a day straight.

“I will come to escort you at mealtime, Doctor.”

“Thank you.”

To allow Sharti her quiet reading, the servant stepped aside and left.

Thud. At the sound of the door closing, Sharti walked slowly through the blue-hued study.

The atmosphere within — reminiscent of the deep blue just before dawn — felt not so much cold as it did mysterious.

‘It feels like stepping into a spring of wisdom.’

Sharti pulled out the thick herbology tome she had been reading the day before.

From the very fingertips that drew the book out and turned its first page, the fluttering in her chest would not subside.

[In four days, the competition will be held. It will be the occasion you wished for, Doctor — a place where your abilities can be verified.]

The format of the competition that Count Chelonar had proposed to Sharti was like any other — various trials through which a winner would be selected — but in truth, it was a venue for recruiting guest lecturers for the medical academy.

‘Since they can’t openly bring in a low-born lecturer to an academy attended by nobles, he said they’d select purely by ability, fair and square.’

Of course, Sharti was not naive enough to believe those words entirely.

Sharti recalled what the Mondeia gang she’d encountered on Bibanten Street had said.

“Even the few commoner-born professors at the academy, the nobles look down on them, he’d said.”

There was no way nobles would waste their precious time sitting through lectures by a low-born instructor.

Sharti shrugged as she copied down the medicinal properties of herbs into her notebook.

‘I suppose a swarm of private tutors hired by noble families will be coming.’

Since winning the competition held in Count Chelonar’s domain would raise one’s reputation considerably, it was only natural that tutors of noble children would have their eyes on it too.

[The House of Gwendhill has publicly halted all external activities, but since the competition held within the domain is hosted by the academy, it poses no issue. Of course, there will be far more watching eyes than last year.]

Count Chelonar, who seemed entirely unbothered by this as he popped a shrimp into Eryl’s mouth, looked to be in good health.

Whether it was the effect of the energy supplement Sharti had prepared for him just in case, Count Chelonar had been faithfully requesting the supplement at every meal since then.

“Surely, being a Count, he could simply send the head butler or issue a command.”

Closing a book she had finished, Sharti stretched her arms.

She could have stacked up the books and read straight through, but Sharti made a point of getting up from her seat now and then whenever she rested.

She would then walk to the far edge of the study.

That spot, unlike the rest, had no bookshelves — instead, it was the only place in the study where a window could be opened.

“Ugh — heave!”

The only trouble was that she had to strain on her tiptoes to undo the latch.

Sharti climbed onto a footstool and, with some effort, nudged the window open just slightly.

A cold breeze swept past her hair, and along with it came the sounds from outside.

“Aaaargh!”

“H-hey! If you come flying this way……! Ugh!”

“The honor of the Count’s Order of Knights……! Uwaargh!”

Amid the resounding groans, Sharti found him — the one person, a dark-haired man with an eyepatch covering his eyes.

‘Ren!’

The misunderstanding between Ren and Count Chelonar’s Order of Knights had been resolved with almost laughable ease.

‘Once Tein and I vouched for him, they cleared up the misunderstanding without a fuss.’

It had been established that Denver Weasley, who had falsely testified in the first place, had lied to bring Ren along and then broken the ring — and with that, the Order offered a sincere apology to Ren along with an invitation to train alongside the entire Order.

[Good.]

Though they were only wooden swords, Ren seemed satisfied to be swinging a blade and moving his body.

‘I’d been worried about what to do without the face-recognition-blocking magic tool.‘

How on earth could he swing a sword like that while wearing an eyepatch?

Forgetting that the cold winter wind was freezing her cheeks, Sharti propped her chin up and stole a glance at Ren.

“He wields a wooden sword well…….”

And with both hands, no less.

Sharti, who had indulged Ren’s exaggerated complaints about his left hand all this time, narrowed her eyes.

But when Ren suddenly snapped his head around and looked up precisely toward the window where she was peeping, Sharti burst out laughing.

“He must have drilled a hole in that eyepatch.”

Wherever she was, however far away — Ren found her exactly.

And with that bright, radiant smile, waving his hand at that.

“That’s your left hand, Ren.”

Sharti murmured to herself as though speaking to him.

There was no way he could read her lips from the distant training grounds.

“Hm?”

But then Ren suddenly faltered, and the left hand he had been enthusiastically waving came sharply down. Then, rather sheepishly, he raised his right hand and waved.

Sharti burst out laughing again. The corners of Ren’s lips showed no sign of falling.

“……Wow. He actually knew how to smile.”

“He had expressions after all.”

The knights who had been knocked flat to the ground one after another, as if they had encountered a wild black bear, stared at Ren with worn-out eyes.

“You really do have to marry well.”

“Right. You know what Eryl called that mercenary? Demon King, apparently.”

“Right. They say it’s thanks to that Doctor that he stayed as a mere mercenary instead of becoming a Demon King.”

Watching the knights whispering behind Ren’s back, Sharti tilted her head.

‘Ah! I must have appeared and disrupted the training.’

Pushing aside her reluctance, Sharti shut the window with a snap.

In that moment, she heard the knights shouting something, but it sounded like cheers rejoicing that training had resumed.

Sharti went back to reading through the books diligently.

‘Even if I can’t win the competition, I hope to at least have my skills recognized. That would help with selling medicine.’

If she made money, the first thing she wanted to do was buy Ren some clothes.

Not the kind of design mercenaries would typically wear — a uniform like the ones knights wore seemed like it would suit Ren too.

“……Though it might be a bit much as a gift with too much personal bias in it.”

Tapping her pen nib against her notebook as she pondered, Sharti smiled softly.

“Whatever the case — I have to do my best!”

At the very least, she didn’t want to be the first one eliminated from the competition.

No matter that she had become Count Chelonar’s benefactor, Sharti still harbored doubts about her own abilities.

More than anything, participants would be gathering from all over with their eyes set on winning the competition — or more precisely, on making a name for themselves and leaving a strong impression — so there was that to worry about too.

“— So, what do you think about attending brief lessons in the days leading up to the competition?”

At dinner that evening, Count Chelonar, who had been placing salad into Eryl’s mouth, asked Sharti.

“Lessons?”

Sharti, who had likewise been feeding beans to Tein, looked up in surprise and echoed the question.

“I heard from Eryl that the Doctor has been spending time in the study day and night, and thinking that the first competition might be weighing on you, I thought I’d make the offer.”

“Ah…….”

Sharti scratched her cheek with an awkward expression.

Looking at the bright, earnest eyes of Eryl and Tein — who had clearly been worried just the same — she found it impossible to decline so generous an offer.

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah. You’re taking such good care of us that, honestly, it’s a little frightening.”

Back in her room, Sharti opened up to Ren, who had come to have the bruises from the day’s training checked, about the Count’s proposal.

However generous Count Chelonar was to Sharti and Tein, Ren — who had forged his identity as a mere mercenary — could not dine with them. Instead, he had been given permission to eat alongside the Order of Knights.

“Until now, I always thought all nobles were terrifying. Especially in the Empire.”

“……Why?”

“Hmm…….”

Sharti, who had been dabbing at the back of Ren’s hand with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, wore a bittersweet smile.

[It seems the body of Grand Duke Gwendhill has been found.]

“About that ‘fire’…….”

Ren noticed the ‘fire’ Sharti hesitantly brought up.

The ‘fire’ — the one that had left her throat injured and burned scars across her body.

“The one who started that fire is a noble. An incredibly, incredibly highly-ranked one.”

“…….”

In that instant, Ren felt a sensation as though his throat were being strangled.

There had been one noble family that, up until now, was the only one Sharti had reacted to and had seizures over.

“Is it……”

Gwendhill?

Strangely, his voice wouldn’t come out.

Was he being careful because the last time he had brought up Gwendhill in front of Sharti, she had a seizure? Or was he feeling some unsettling premonition?

“Yes. Grand Duke ‘Gwendhill.'”

“……!”

A vein rose on Ren’s forehead.

Shock and fury surged within him at what that murderous fiend had done.

Ren gripped Sharti’s small, delicate hand tightly in his, trying not to let a harsh word escape his lips.

He had been cautious for some time now, but on the very first night they stayed at the mansion, there had been an incident — the servants had tried to start a fire in the fireplace, and Sharti had a seizure.

Tein had rushed to fetch water, and thankfully the startled servants had quickly put out the fire, so the seizure hadn’t lasted long. But the severity of the seizure, accompanied by hyperventilation, remained just the same as before.

“You know, Ren. Grandmother told me……. They say Grand Duke Gwendhill is dead.”

“……!”

Sharti took Ren’s startled hand and held it tightly in both of hers.

“Hearing that the Grand Duke — the one who frightened me so, who still frightens me even now, honestly — hearing that he was dead… it felt strange.”

“……What’s strange about a bastard like that dying? It’s a complete relief to me. I wanted to spit on his grave.”

At Ren’s words, biting down on his rage, Sharti let out a small laugh.

“I just… I think I felt sad. Looking back on it now…… I think I felt wronged.”

The moment Vireta had told her of Grand Duke Gwendhill’s death, Sharti had wanted to cry.

Her feelings had been a complete wreck.

Five years ago — the owner of the military boots she had seen in that dark, silent void.

The bone-chilling emptiness, devoid of anything, within that dreadfully low voice.

The one who had commanded that the princess of an enemy nation burn to death.

That person was dead, they said.

“The person who took so much from me……. Hearing that he was dead, I felt hollow, I suppose.”

He had taken her voice, taken a normal life from her — and then gone and died this early.

“If you were going to take away what was precious to me, at the very least — at the very least — you weren’t supposed to die like this.”

You should have lived a long, long time.

You should have lived a long, long time in suffering.

She had hoped that he would ache and suffer and weep tears of blood far longer than she had — she, who had spent five years living in torment.

“…….”

Watching Sharti, whose eyes had gone red from holding back tears, Ren felt a pain as though his heart were being squeezed.

Ren reached out and cradled Sharti’s cheek in his hand.

“That bastard will be in hell, even in death.”

Ren smiled at her.

“And for the rest of eternity, he won’t be able to escape that hell.”

So don’t cry, Sha.

Don’t cry for someone like that.

Ren pressed his lips to the corner of Sharti’s eye, bearing the aching grief that pierced through his chest.