Yet the worry remained all the same.
In the original story, Callius had only started his sunlight desensitization training once he had fully turned eighteen.
At the very least, he had been far more mature then than he was now.
Was it truly wise for him to begin at such a young age, unstable as he was both mentally and physically?
“If all goes well, perhaps I can lead a normal life like everyone else.”
There was a faint, quiet hope in his voice.
Seeing that look in his eyes, I could not bring myself to suggest putting it off for later.
In truth, what else could I do?
How could a mere secondary character like me stop the protagonist when he had resolved to break through his own shell and step out?
“…I understand, my Lord. So, what do you intend to do now?”
At my resigned question, Callius fell silent for a moment.
Then, a solemn note rarely heard from him entered his voice.
“First, we must summon the physician.”
With the annual ball drawing near, the ducal estate bustled with more activity than ever before.
Dozens of freight carriages rolled into and out of the manor daily, bearing all that was needed for the banquet.
The kitchen chimneys spewed smoke ceaselessly, while in the grand hall, maids scurried under the sharp direction of Head Maid Melissa.
As for me, tasked with attending Callius, I was exempt from the preparations, yet the sound of Melissa’s tense, cutting commands ringing across the estate was enough to keep my nerves as frayed as everyone else's.
“Who was responsible here? Dust is still clinging to the trim!”
“How can the guest rooms be in such a state? Can you not move any faster?!”
Melissa never left her post for a second, supervising the servants’ labor in person.
Thanks to that, I found no opportunity to speak with Tilda until the late lunch hour arrived.
“Are you holding up, Tilda?”
“Ah… don’t ask. My legs feel like they’re about to break. It feels as if I’m a prisoner guarded by a warden, not a maid.”
She sighed as she massaged her calves, stiff and aching from scrubbing floors without a break.
“Let me take a look.”
I began to massage her legs with careful hands.
As Tilda relaxed into the chair to take in the massage, a sudden thought crossed her mind.
“Oh, by the way, have you heard? About Mary and Dorothy, the ones hauled off by the security guards. They say a death sentence was handed down at their trial yesterday. It seems the execution will take place soon.”
“Ah… really?”
Though the outcome had been predictable, my chest tightened the moment I heard it.
Unsure of what to say, I simply gave a slow nod.
The verdict was fair considering what they had done to me, yet hearing the word ‘death’ stirred an unsettling feeling inside.
‘Perhaps because we worked together for a time? Back in our modern world, people aren't executed for things like this…’
“Enough, there is no need for pity.”
Tilda spoke up, having read what was running through my mind.
“They are merely reaping what they sowed. Don’t dwell on it any longer.”
Her words brushed away the gloom hanging over my face, and I offered a faint nod.
I felt grateful to her—and a bit embarrassed as well.
“Yes, I understand. Thank you.”
Just as I pulled myself together, the clatter of carriage wheels resounded from outside.
Tilda glanced toward the window out of the corner of her eye and muttered under her breath.
“Looks like His Grace and Lord Amarcus have returned.”
“Huh? Where were they?”
“On an inspection tour of the estate grounds, apparently.”
Tilda then leaned toward me, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“Lately, the master has been taking Amarcus with him everywhere. A rumor has even begun to spread among the servants.”
“What kind of rumor?”
“They say our young master never leaves his room, and that the master is considering passing the succession of the title to Amarcus instead.”
Tilda offered a bitter smile.
“People are already whispering that it’s best to get on Amarcus’s good side early. I’ve worked in this mansion for years, but I never knew people could be so heartless.”
I found myself at a loss for words.
‘I never imagined the rumor had spread this far. How would Callius feel if he knew?’
Tilda then added with faint derision.
“Perhaps that’s why Amarcus has been clinging to the master with all his might. The two of them have even been dining together quite often lately.”
Lowering her voice even further, she peered at me.
“So, Lizzy… does our young master know any of this?”
"…"
I gave her an ambiguous smile.
I knew full well what Callius was planning, but it was a secret I could not reveal.
‘In any case, once the day of the ball arrives, everyone will know.’
Still, I knew Tilda would remain anxious until that moment.
So I gently took her hand, speaking in a reassuring tone.
“Don’t worry, Tilda. Our young master… is strong enough to turn this entire situation on its head. I’m certain of it.”
The grand hall of the ducal manor, which had not hosted a banquet in quite some time, finally filled with nobles dressed far more lavishly than usual.
Satisfaction and pride shone across their faces, having earned the honor of being invited to this magnificent gala once again this year.
From the seat of highest honor, Amarcus surveyed the entire scene with a pleased smile.
Amid this breathtaking spectacle, Callius—the thorn that had long pierced his eye—was nowhere to be seen.
The very cousin to whom he had been compared endlessly since childhood, whom he had striven so desperately to surpass.
A world without Callius was nothing less than an exclusive stage for Amarcus alone.
‘He bragged so grandly last time, so why hasn’t he attended the ball? He didn’t look that sick then.’
A while ago, Amarcus had sought out Callius himself to gather information, only to return empty-handed.
Worse, he had been utterly humiliated on his way back.
‘The sheer humiliation of arriving late to dinner that day and standing helpless before Uncle…’
Amarcus gritted his teeth at the memory.
Right after returning to his quarters that evening, he had immediately called upon his servant, ordering a thorough investigation into Callius's recent movements.
Not even half a day had passed before the servant returned.
‘So, what has Callius been doing all these months?’
‘He hasn't set foot outside his room for over half a year.’
‘Half a year? And why is that?’
‘Even the servants in the estate don't know the reason. We tried bribing them for answers, but it seemed nobody truly knew a thing.’
‘Damn it, is that all you came back with? Merely that he's confined to his room?’
‘There was… one suspicious detail. Until about two months ago, the young duke would scream like a madman from time to time, throwing things at anyone in sight and acting violently. A maid assigned to him was even dismissed after stepping out of line.’
Hearing that, Amarcus clutched his hands tightly without realizing it.
If those words held true, something out of the ordinary had definitely happened to Callius.
‘There has to be something.’
For some reason, Callius was incapable of stepping outside.
‘And perhaps… he is no longer even able to carry out any public duty as the heir.’
He closed his eyes briefly, sinking into his thoughts.
The Duke of Rivannion's recent conduct offered another piece of evidence supporting his suspicion.
Ever since his arrival, Amarcus had engaged in lengthy conversations with the Duke, and had even accompanied him personally on inspection tours across the estate.
That was an exceedingly rare occurrence.
Never before had his uncle shown him such attentiveness.
‘Why me, and not Callius?’
After pondering it at length, he arrived at a single conclusion.
‘…Uncle is considering me as the next duke. Otherwise, why would he reveal all of this to me?’
