Chapter Twenty-Six
I Miss You
Two weeks had passed since the Archduchess's visit to the tower, and she had grown increasingly busy with Damian's birthday drawing near.
She rubbed her eyes for the third time before finally setting down the papers in her hands. She turned and asked in a weary voice,
"Is Damian asleep?"
"Dawn will be breaking soon. The young master is asleep."
"It seems I've reached my limit."
She stretched slightly before heading toward her son's room with practiced steps. She quietly opened the door and approached his bed, gently patting his hair and then his cheeks with a smile. She placed a light kiss on his forehead, and just as she was about to leave, she caught sight of something gleaming beneath her son's blanket.
She took a step forward, thinking she would ignore it, but then stopped, took two steps back, and pulled the glimmering object free.
Her jaw nearly dropped.
It was hanging from a thin chain around her son's neck, treated like a precious possession that could not be touched.
"How did this pocket watch get here?"
Her lips trembled as she spoke. When she turned toward Amanda, she found her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Amanda! Do you know anything?"
"I don't know..."
Amanda grew even paler and lowered her head as she answered in a voice barely above a whisper.
The Archduchess was certain that this watch had belonged to that child. She herself had chosen it for him and sent it to his nanny days ago. Her son had never been greedy or selfish.
"He doesn't even know it exists..."
She murmured unconsciously as she looked at her sleeping child. The Archduchess closed her eyes, clenching her fists tightly.
Maybe there's been a misunderstanding. Perhaps His Majesty bought it.
She tried to shake the thoughts away as she left the room, repeating every possible explanation that could deny what she had seen.
It might have seemed as though the matter had passed, but it had not passed without consequence.
Ever since she had seen the watch, the Archduchess had deliberately changed the times of her son's lessons, using flimsy excuses. She had thought it would cause no trouble, but Damian had been irritable throughout those days. He could barely eat, and he could hardly even sit down for his usual reading.
On the eighth day after that night, sometime before noon, he remained in a particularly restless state. One moment he would stare at his book, and the next he would spend long stretches gazing out the window.
"You don't like the book? Shall I change it?"
"No... I'm bored. I want to go outside and get some sunlight."
Her jaw tightened for a moment, but she smiled.
"Have you not been neglecting your studies lately?"
"Mother, I'm going to die anyway. Why do I have to do this...?"
The book slipped from her hand, and her body trembled.
"Why would you say that? Your body is fine. Look... Look at yourself. There's nothing wrong with you. With good medicine and good food, you'll live for a long time. A very long time."
Damian stood, setting the book aside, and looked into his mother's eyes through half-lidded eyes.
"Let's not deceive ourselves. My body is falling apart, Mother."
One tear after another rolled down the Archduchess's cheeks. She tried in vain to hold them back as she approached her son with heavy steps.
At last, she placed both hands on his shoulders. She opened her mouth several times, but could barely force out a few words.
"You won't die..."
The Archduchess embraced her son and openly wept. Damian felt sorrow for his mother, but there was something else he desperately wanted today.
He wanted to see his little brother.
I miss Elyon. Will he think I've abandoned him?
He pushed the thought from his mind while still in his mother's arms. It felt as though a rope were tightening around his heart. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain, but the constriction grew tighter with every passing moment until it felt like a gigantic serpent coiling around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
He coughed several times before pushing his mother away in search of air.
The Archduchess's limbs went rigid, and it took her a moment to regain her senses. She seized her son's hand and shouted,
"The doctor! Bring the doctor at once!"
One of the servants instinctively stepped forward and carried Damian away, while the others scattered like bees, opening the windows of Damian's room, changing his clothes, and tending to him.
A young doctor in his thirties soon arrived. He had dark gray hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant face.
"Everyone, step back."
The doctor placed the medicine in Damian's mouth before quickly examining him.
"It's his usual mana episode."
The Archduchess bit her lower lip, her hands clenched tightly.
"Can't you find a solution?"
"The strange thing is that the young master's body had been stable for quite some time."
"I don't understand."
As the Archduchess's expression softened, the young doctor smiled.
"I don't know, either. His episodes usually occur once every month or two and last anywhere from two days to a week. But this time, more than three months have passed without an episode... Perhaps the young master's emotions had finally become stabl—"
A frightening look appeared on the Archduchess's face.
The doctor immediately fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
"I'll take care of the young master."
The young doctor watched the Archduchess leave the room before approaching the boy. He sensed Damian's mana and pressed his lips together.
Then he noticed Damian's clenched fist wrapped around a golden pocket watch.
His eyes widened.
"Something happened to him, but I don't know what..."
The doctor murmured with a sigh, pulled over a chair, and sat down.
His job was to monitor the child's condition from one moment to the next.
"My young master, it's time for lunch."
The maid set down the food, glancing at the strangely quiet child.
She expected him to pick up his spoon and eat as usual, but the boy remained motionless, one hand still clenched around the other.
The maid swallowed and tried to smile gently.
"Why isn't the little master eating? Don't you like the food?"
"..."
"Shall I bring you something else?"
Elyon did not want to answer her, but then he remembered his brother's words:
["You mustn't ignore the kindness of others."]
Elyon shook his head and replied softly, his head lowered,
"Thank you, but I don't want anything."
The maid's jaw tightened.
The sight of the child was painfully heartbreaking. His eyes were clear of tears, yet his brows drooped and his gaze was lifeless.
His entire face seemed to scream:
I am hurting.
The maid bit the inside of her cheek and furrowed her brows before speaking hesitantly.
"Is something hurting you, little master?"
Elyon lifted his head and looked at the maid.
In a quiet voice, he said,
"Here. It hurts here."
The maid's eyes widened, and her fingers tightened around her skirt when the child before her pointed to his heart, his eyes trembling.
Over the past few months, he had seemed like an ordinary child his age. But over the past several days, he had begun to fade little by little.
This red-haired maid had worked here for years, yet she had never seen this child cry or grieve.
But today, his eyes held all the pain of those years.
Every instinct in her screamed at her to embrace him, but the orders were clear: do not overstep your boundaries with him, and do not touch him.
The maid pressed her hands against her eyes and mouth before saying with a smile that barely reached her eyes,
"I'll ask the doctor."
Elyon nodded in understanding, then lowered his head and walked toward the balcony. He sat on the lone sofa there, resting his head against its back as his eyes remained fixed on the place he usually occupied.
The maid carried away the food, determined to leave something else edible ready for him whenever he wanted it.
Meanwhile, Elyon stared toward the lake, every part of him asking the same question.
Why hasn't my brother come?
The child clutched his aching chest.
At first, he had thought his brother would only be gone for a day. When he had gone downstairs that day and found that his brother had not come despite waiting for so long, he continued reading his books, hoping his brother would eventually arrive.
But his brother had not come the next day.
Nor the day after that.
His brother had told him that he was usually busy with his studies and was not allowed to come, but the longest his brother had ever been away had never exceeded a single day.
Every day, Elyon continued going downstairs at the usual time.
But to no avail.
He no longer wanted to read anything.
He no longer wanted to eat.
Even drinking water had become exhausting.
"Poor Young Master Damian. He's never been this ill before..."
A younger maid continued, a trace of excitement in her voice.
"I heard he argued with Her Grace when he fell ill."
"No, I don't think so. His relationship with Her Grace is very good. I've never seen a noble lady show her child so much love."
"Will he die?"
When the red-haired maid spoke, the other two maids gasped. The younger maid immediately covered her mouth, while the older one spoke.
"Don't say things like that. It's only been four days since the young master was confined to bed."
"If the first young master dies, wouldn't our little master inherit the Grand Duchy? Isn't that why Her Grace keeps him isolated...?"
The red-haired maid looked somewhat agitated.
The older maid sighed.
"The eldest young master is still our young master. Don't speak like that."
The red-haired maid bit the inside of her cheeks and shifted uneasily, while the other two maids understood, to some extent, the reason for her agitation.
Half an hour earlier...
The red-haired maid had prepared a breakfast of sandwiches and a large glass of pineapple juice. She had deliberately covered them so the child could eat whenever he wished.
Although he barely ate, she refused to stop trying.
She looked at the child sleeping in his bed. She wanted to wake him, but eventually decided against it and left the room.
What she did not know was that the child was not asleep.
Elyon felt his throat growing dry. He rose from the bed and searched for water, but the pitcher was empty.
He approached the dining table. He did not even look at the sandwiches. His eyes fell upon the glass of juice, and he picked it up, barely managing a sip.
But the glass was too large for a five-year-old child.
It slipped from his hands.
The glass did not break, but the juice spilled across the floor and Elyon's clothes.
He caught the hem of his pajama shirt, then released it. He set the glass back in place and left the room to call for the maid instead of waiting.
He knew the maids were never far away.
When he saw his red-haired maid, he was about to approach her when his brother's name reached his ears.
He moved a little closer.
But when he heard the rest of their conversation, his limbs went cold.
He knew what death was.
He had learned and read about many things, but his mind could not make sense of everything he had heard.
What he understood was this:
His elder brother was ill.
And he might die.
Elyon took a step backward, then ran toward his room.
He shut the door tightly, not even noticing that he should change his clothes or put on shoes instead of the unsuitable slippers on his feet.
He entered the chimney and pulled the door shut behind him.
He raced down the stairs, and when he stepped on the wrong stair, he did not stop, tumbling down the rest of them.
His wounds stung, and one of his slippers had fallen off, but he ignored it, leaving the other behind as well and making his way toward the door.
When he stepped outside and the cold morning breeze greeted him, his bare feet carried him toward the lake.
He looked at his balcony, then glanced around the vast grounds.
He headed in the direction from which his brother usually came.
But that was not all.
After moving some distance away from the tower, he found an open stretch of land. Several buildings stood on the horizon.
He walked in a straight line, and when he approached one of them, he found it old and dilapidated.
There was no one guarding it.
When he entered through the door, he found the inside even worse than the outside.
He sighed and quickly left the place.
He was certain his brother would never live somewhere like this.
He approached another building farther away, and this one was heavily guarded.
Perhaps this was the building he was looking for.
As he drew closer, searching for a way inside, he was startled by men with frightening appearances and nearly torn clothing, while knights shouted at them. Some of the knights were even lashing them with whips.
Elyon stepped backward, covering his mouth.
Despite the scratches covering his legs, stepping on the thorns made his eyes squeeze shut. He was afraid the knights might mistake him for one of those people.
He hid behind some bushes, pulled the thorns from his feet, and brushed them off before retreating in the opposite direction.
There were many buildings around him. Some were guarded, others were not.
He found the servants' quarters, and somehow, he even managed to enter a small building used to store food.
Elyon's stomach tightened.
When he looked toward the horizon, the sun had already begun to sink.
His determination faltered for a moment, especially as knights patrolled everywhere, forcing him to hide every few minutes.
But then he saw maids entering one of the buildings.
It was the largest and most gleaming building of them all.
When he approached the main gate, he found numerous knights standing guard.
He knew they would never let him through, especially dressed as he was.
Everything about that building gleamed.
The tower where he lived was beautiful, but this place was even more magnificent.
Elyon stepped back as the sun disappeared completely.
He desperately tried to climb one of the trees near a balcony on the second floor, but he ended up falling several times before even making it halfway.
His entire body stung and ached. Even his hair had become disheveled and changed in color from the dirt.
His steps had grown heavier.
Yet he remained determined to get inside.
He spotted a maid pulling a small cart piled with linens. She seemed to be trying to enter the building.
He had read about this in one of the books his brother had brought him.
At the thought of his brother, he clutched his chest.
Then, taking advantage of the maid's distraction as she spoke with another servant, he slipped between the linens and entered the main palace.
Elyon emerged from the pile when he heard no voices.
The room he found himself in was filled with linens and blankets.
Elyon thought that if there were clean clothes here, he would have preferred to put them on.
His brother would be sad to see him like this.
He moved from place to place, searching for a way to discover where his brother was.
He climbed several flights of stairs, only to find himself at kitchen cupboards or surrounded by cleaning supplies.
When he reached several doors, something in his instincts told him to enter one of them.
It led him into a gleaming corridor with decorated walls and polished floors, somewhat resembling the floor where he lived.
His footsteps left trails of mud and blood across the white marble, but the child had no time to worry about them.
If anyone discovered that he had left the tower, they would come looking for him.
Perhaps he would never be able to leave and search again.
And he had no idea how long he would have to wait before his brother returned.
He tried not to lose his way again.
He had barely made it to the second floor when he hid for a while.
All that remained was to find his brother's room.
He considered opening the doors one by one, but he was afraid of being caught.
He thought for a moment.
Why not follow one of the maids?
But which one?
He sat in a somewhat dark corner, exhausted in both body and mind.
He took a deep breath and listened to the footsteps of the servants.
There was little movement on this floor, but it seemed safer.
After waiting for what felt like an eternity, he heard two maids talking.
He strained his ears and leaned closer.
"He hasn't woken even once. Her Grace is worried."
"It's a shame he was born with such a weak body. The young master is such a beautiful child."
Elyon clutched his chest.
Even breathing had become painful.
But his ears continued to catch every word.
Finally, one of the maids spoke.
"I'll take the clean towels to the young master's room."
"All right. I'll tell the cook to prepare dinner for the doctor."
Elyon could barely stand.
With each step feeling as though it might carve a path into the floor, he kept one hand against the wall and secretly followed the maid.
She climbed to the third floor.
It was brighter there, and although there were more servants, they moved in silence and perfect order.
Elyon barely managed to avoid a passing maid before running toward the room the other maid had entered.
When he stepped inside, he did not notice the doctor sitting there or the maid standing nearby.
His eyes saw only the boy lying there, utterly helpless.
His lips trembled, and before he could utter a word, his body crumpled.
The maid let out a piercing scream, causing the doctor to turn toward the source of the commotion.
For a moment, the child looked frightening.
But upon closer inspection, he was merely a boy with dirty black hair, his clothes once white but now torn in several places and stained with dirt and blood.
His head hung low, his small body shrinking in on itself beneath the maid's scream.
The doctor tried to calm the maid, but the servants began gathering around them.
Despite one servant's hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the child.
The doctor tried to speak, telling them that perhaps the child had simply lost his way.
But it was unexpected for a child in such a state to have somehow wandered into this place.
As the doctor approached the boy, he caught sight of one of the child's eyes opening before immediately closing again.
He froze.
He had heard a rumor that there was another child in the Walter household.
But the rumor had neither been confirmed nor denied, and it had quickly faded away.
"Calm down. You're frightening the child."
But the servants were making too much noise over the child to hear him.
So he raised his voice.
"The young master is sleeping. Be quiet."
The servants fell silent at once.
Even the servant holding the child loosened his grip.
The doctor sighed and tried to approach the child, but a sharp, commanding voice made everyone freeze.
"What is this commotion in front of my son's room?"
The servants immediately bowed, even the doctor.
The maid spoke in a trembling voice.
"This child... I don't know who he is, but he broke into the young master's room."
The doctor wanted to strike the maid.
In his opinion, their exaggerated reaction was frightening the child far more than necessary.
The Archduchess stared at the child.
Her entire body froze as though rust had eaten through it.
"How did you get here?"
....... To Be Continued ......