The third day of the coma.
When Sophia's consciousness finally broke through the darkness, surfacing like a drowning animal, what entered her eyes was not the dim Bedchamber, but a halo of light that was warm and bright to the point of luxury.
She struggled to move her eyes, her vision gradually coming into focus amidst the blur.
On the low cabinets on both sides of the headboard, two peculiarly shaped lamps were burning.
They were two rabbit lamps made of translucent light wood and fine silk. Their long ears stood up playfully, and their round bodies emitted a stable and soft cool white light.
This style seemed out of place in the solemn and cold Palace, yet it carried a kind of healing warmth.
Sophia recognized it at a glance.
Aside from that Transmigrator, Irene, whose head was full of whimsical ideas, there was no second person in this world who could create this kind of 'moe' design filled with modern aesthetics.
Rabbit lamps, huh.
Sophia voiced a quiet complaint in her heart.
If it hadn't been her, but any other King seeing these strange and peculiar things, they probably would have captured her as a witch.
However, this oil lamp improvement is really not bad; the brightness is almost catching up to an incandescent bulb.
She subconsciously wanted to prop her body up to sit, but suddenly felt a heavy weight on her right side, as if something was pinning her down.
Looking down, she saw Irene curled up into a small ball, asleep on the edge of her bed.
This girl had evidently not closed her eyes for a few days; there were dark circles under her eyes, and her hand was still deathly gripping a piece of clean gauze.
Sophia noticed that the velvet bedsheet beside Irene was actually soaked wet over a large area, clearly the traces left by prolonged crying.
Watching Irene twitching her nose restlessly in her sleep, the soft spot deep within Sophia's heart—hidden under her cold, stoic face—seemed to be gently plucked by something.
Crying like this... does she think I, her 'ATM', am going to kick the bucket?
Sophia sighed, attempting to move her left arm to pat Irene's head.
"Hiss—!"
However, the moment she exerted force with her left arm, a bone-piercing, excruciating pain instantly exploded along her nerves.
That pain was extremely intense, as if someone were repeatedly rubbing her flesh with a red-hot branding iron.
Sophia hurt so much she almost passed out on the spot, cold sweat instantly covering her forehead.
Even so, that 'facial paralysis face' of hers, which seemed cursed, still maintained that indifference and composure that kept people a thousand miles away.
This faint sound of inhaling was particularly clear in the deathly silent Bedchamber.
With a bang, the originally tightly closed door was pushed open by a massive force.
Delilah's figure was like a black gale, sweeping instantly to the bedside.
Her hand was still subconsciously gripping the hilt of her sword, her entire body radiating the hostility and alertness of someone who had stayed up all night.
But the moment she saw clearly that the source of the commotion was Sophia opening her eyes, that hostility strangely dissipated.
In that instant, a kind of relieved joy that even she herself hadn't detected burst forth from Delilah's cold eyes.
But very quickly, this 'Iron-blooded General' of a past life realized her loss of composure. She stiffly suppressed the smile that was about to spill from the corners of her lips, restoring that serious, even slightly stiff, cold appearance.
"Your Majesty, you're awake."
Delilah's voice was somewhat hoarse. She released the hand gripping the sword; her knuckles appeared somewhat pale due to the prolonged exertion.
She straightened her spine, inexplicably unsure of what to say.
"You have been in a coma for three whole days, Your Majesty."
"It's been three days already? Any movement in the Kingdom?"
Her voice was cold and hoarse, carrying a sense of oppression that demanded control over the overall situation even while lying on a sickbed.
But in reality, Sophia was dying of pain.
There were simply no such things as painkillers here, only herbs with analgesic effects, but the effects were minimal.
However, she had actually fainted for three days; no wonder her stomach was empty, feeling like she could eat a whole cow.
Delilah bowed slightly.
"Everything is well.
Willow, on Your Majesty's behalf, had Valery and Victor seal the news. The twenty-odd heads of the rogue bandits are hanging very steadily on the City wall; no one dares to touch your bad luck at this time.
Willow had been taking care of Your Majesty before; only after Miss Irene came did Willow go to rest."
She paused, her gaze falling upon Sophia's thick bandages, and her voice lowered a few notches.
"The Medical Officer said the wound is too deep. After healing, it will leave a very ugly scar.
I apologize. It was I who arrived late."
Sophia remained silent for a moment, her pale golden pupils turning toward the rabbit lamps on the table.
A scar?
Fine. Although leaving a scar is annoying, compared to losing my life, this is already a blessing from the heavens.
Right now, compared to removing the scar, Sophia wanted nothing more than for this wound to stop hurting.
Moreover, there were no antibiotics here, so she didn't know if the wound would become inflamed or infected.
Even though her 'stoic' face appeared unchanged, she could sense cold sweat emerging on her forehead.
"It matters not. You arrived in a timely enough manner," Sophia said.
If it had been any later, she and Irene would really have lost their lives.
She had kept Delilah back then intending to see what she wanted to do; she hadn't expected that instead of plotting misconduct, Delilah would actually save her.
The next second, the calm dialogue between the two was completely shattered by a sudden, loud wailing.
Irene, who had been sleeping extremely restlessly on the bed's edge, seemingly woke up upon hearing their voices. She sprang up violently like an instrument that had just been plugged into power.
She first confusedly rubbed her red and swollen eyes.
When her vision captured Sophia's pale golden pupils, which were slightly open and watching her with a trace of weakness, the terror and self-blame accumulated over three days collapsed her rationality like a bursting dam.
"Your Majesty! You're finally awake! Wuwuwu..."
Irene disregarded all royal etiquette, even forgetting that the person before her was the terrifying 'Tyrant'.
Like an overly frightened young beast, she grabbed Sophia's uninjured right arm, burying her head into the expensive silk duvet and rubbing frantically.
"I thought you would never wake up again... If you died because you saved me, I would spend the rest of my life in nightmares...
Wuwuwu, I'm sorry, it's all because I'm too useless!"
Sophia was already sweating cold bullets from the torture of the pain in her left arm. Now that her right hand was deathly gripped by Irene, her entire body stiffened in place, and she could only allow the girl's tears to wet the cuffs of her expensive nightgown.
It hurts!
For a rare moment, Sophia wanted to curse out loud.
Irene cried ventingly like this for a few seconds. Just as Sophia was about to call Delilah to drag Irene away, Irene's body suddenly reacted as if struck by lightning.
The person I'm hugging is the Tyrant Queen who kills without blinking.
And she is injured!
She violently sniffed back her snot, releasing her hand with hiccups. Her state of holding a tight embrace turned into kneeling tremblingly on the carpet by the bed, her hands twisting together in nervousness and cramping anxiety.
"Your... Your Majesty, I was just too excited."
Irene sobbed, the tip of her nose bright red, looking both pitiful and somewhat comical.
"I really feel too guilty.
Clearly, I have so much knowledge in my brain, and can even build weapons to kill rogue bandits.
But at that time, aside from trembling and screaming, I couldn't do anything, and I even caused you to be left with such a hideous wound in order to save me."
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