Chapter Twenty One
"It's not what it—"
I started to explain myself before Kaelen misunderstood me, but I was cut off before I could even finish.
"Miss Elena! Unhand the Duke!"
Miss Elena? Kaelen knows this woman? I squinted at the girl as she blinked back at me. Who the hell is she?
Ugh... I would have celebrated Kaelen taking my side if I wasn't pinned to the ground by some drunkard.
[Ping!]
[Host is a drunkard too.]
You're back to normal?
...
Nevermind.
"What Duke?" The woman slurred, her grip on my shoulders tightening as she stared straight into my eyes. "That drunkard isn't here. He could never be handsome as this guy even if he died a million times, Kaelen."
"Ugh! Get her off of me first, Kaelen!" I barked. "Your master is getting assaulted!"
Kaelen didn't need to be told twice. He rushed in our direction as he peeled her off me with a practiced efficiency that suggested this wasn't the first time he'd dealt with her "enthusiasm."
"Lady Elena, please restrain yourself!" Kaelen scolded, holding her firmly by the arms while she kicked her feet in the air like an upturned beetle.
"Let go, Kaelen!" The woman whined, pointing a shaky, accusing finger at me. "I'm telling you, this guy is a thief! Look at him! The Duke is a mountain of lard who smells like sour grapes and failure. This guy... he's solid. He's too handsome. I felt those muscles, Kaelen! They're hard! Not soft!"
"Pff-ough!"
Kaelen's lips twitched. A small, huffing sound escaped him. He looked at me, then back at her, and actually had the audacity to let the smile form on his lips.
"What's so funny?" I snapped, dusting off my coat and feeling my temper flare as I got back on my feet.
"Nothing, Master," Kaelen said, though his shoulders were shaking. "It's just... If I didn't see it for myself. I would have been like her too. After all, you were indeed soft the last time you met her."
"Brat... I'll show you soft when I dock your pay for the next decade," I muttered, finally grabbing the clear bottle of high-proof spirits from the top shelf. "Carry her to Hans's room as well. Maybe, he has something to make this thing sober. I'll interrogate her for attacking me there."
"M-Master, it really wasn't an attack! She just... she gets very affectionate when it's about offering you constructive criticism," Kaelen stammered, throwing the squirming woman over his shoulder like a sack of noisy potatoes. "Like last time."
Looks like I have to play the forgetting card again. Let's do it later. Vizen's life is more important.
"Affectionate? She tried to tackle me into the afterlife! Move!"
I didn't wait. I bolted out of the winery, the cold air of the hallway hitting my face. I had to get to Vizen before the bacteria in this dumb as fuck world decided to throw a party in his bloodstream.
SLAM!
I slammed the door of Hans room as my eyes landed on Hans who was sitting beside Vizen on the bed holding an empty vial which was probably the stress relief medicine.
"Out of the way," I barked, rushing.
"Your Grace? That is... quite a smell. Are you sure it's supposed to be this strong?" Hans wrinkled his nose as I uncorked the bottle.
"I know what I'm doing, Hans. Kaelen, hold his shoulders. Hans, grab his legs. If he wakes up while I'm doing this, he's going to try to kick a hole in the ceiling."
Kaelen dropped the still-muttering Elena onto a nearby armchair as she promptly fell asleep and started snoring before he rushed to pin Vizen down. His forehead had quite the long cut. But, thankfully it wasn't too deep.
I didn't hesitate. I tipped the bottle.
Sssssss!
The moment the alcohol hit the open gash on Vizen's head, his eyes snapped open. His back arched like a bow, and a sound that wasn't quite human escaped his throat before his eyes closed again. He sounded quite energetic for a man of his age.
"GURGHHHH!"
"Hold him properly, Kaelen!" I shouted, a pouring more as my hands trembled, a very foreign feeling bubbling in my chest. "Do you want him to lose his eye instead? Hans, take this bottle bring me a clean cloth and some bandage!"
"Hic... I don't want to break his old bones, Your Grace! Can't you do it!?" Kaelen cried out, his face twisting into an expression that felt like he was being burnt alive.
"Stop acting like a woman. I swear if you don't hold him tight and it goes in his eyes, I'll definitely make you a gigolo!"
"Can you two stop acting like hooligans?" Hans sighed, sliding between us. "Please move and calm your nerves, Your Grace. I'll do the bandaging."
"Yes," I managed to squeeze out.
"Master... Master... I'm scared. Butler Vizen—"
SLAP!
The sound of my palm hitting Kaelen's cheek echoed sharply in the small room. My hand had moved before I could even process the thought.
Kaelen froze, his head turned to the side, a red mark blooming on his pale skin. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe.
"Master?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
"Shut up," I snapped, my voice cracking.
I turned away, shoving my hands deep into my pockets so they wouldn't see the pathetic way my fingers were shaking. My anxiety was hitting a ceiling I hadn't reached in years.
I knew the science. I knew the alcohol would kill the infection. The cut wasn't that life threatening either. There's no way he would die from something that little.
I knew it.
But for some reason, I couldn't stop the tremors. My heart was thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
'Don't get sick, Your Grace.'
It was the first time. First time in a long time someone smiled at me and told me not to get sick.
Ugh... I'm just saving him for my selfish reasons. I want someone to praise me while I'm making money.
Yes. That's it.
"He's stable, Your Grace. You're worrying far too much," Hans whispered as he finished wrapping the clean linen around Vizen's head. "The bleeding has stopped, and the wound isn't swelling as I expected. Your 'information source' is truly a miracle worker, Your Grace. They're fast and reliable."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my gaze drifting to the armchair. Elena was still there, snoring loud enough to rattle the windowpanes, her mouth slightly agape.
I'll deal with that woman later.
"Kaelen," I muttered, leaning against the wall.
"Yes, Master?"
"Take me to the dungeon."
That fatty is going to die today.