“The young master has finished nearly all of his meal. Please administer his medication now.”
Anasta felt a pang of guilt at the Head Maid's words.
Fortunately, her lie had not been discovered, but she realized she could not keep eating his food going forward.
Worse still was the medicine. She could hardly force the pills down his throat.
Darkness seemed to fall across Anasta's vision.
Even so, she took the medicine and reentered the young master's chamber.
Ryan, whose demeanor had turned entirely cold after the incident with the meal, thoroughly ignored her.
His stance was unmistakable: he had no intention of taking the medicine she offered.
Rather than attempt to force him, she simply approached his bedside.
This time as well, a heavy pillow flew toward her, but she paid it no mind.
A pillow was soft compared to the beatings from her parents.
“It is time for your medicine.”
Seeing her advance as though untouched by the pillow, Ryan felt a prickle of disgust.
“Why not swallow that down yourself, just as you did before?”
She offered no reply, merely standing in silence before his bed.
Then she began to study his face with care.
Though his frame had weakened, the physique honed by seventeen years of grueling physical training and swordsmanship remained evident.
Even if his muscles had thinned, they must once have been solid.
His face was as handsome and refined as high society had always claimed.
Exalted status, striking features, and formidable talent.
Anasta could not begin to fathom how Ryan must have felt upon learning his life was finite—he who had once possessed everything.
‘I know women like you all too well. You pray I'll die quickly. That way you can flee this wretched house a wealthy woman, can't you?’
She faulted herself slightly for failing to deny those words at the time.
Though she had resolved to endure in this estate, she had still treated Ryan just as the rest of the world did.
In truth, she had entertained thoughts of the wealth that would be hers once she became a widow after his death.
In other words, Anasta had fixated on the future instead of facing the reality before her.
To remain beside Ryan, she needed to understand what he felt.
Having realized that, Anasta decided she would treat him with a touch of warmth and generosity.
“I was told you will suffer a seizure if you miss your dose.”
· · ·
“Take it before the seizure begins.”
Ryan let out a dry, mocking laugh at her words.
“Fine by me. Seizures feel foul enough, but perhaps having one will keep you out of my sight.”
She set the medicine and water down neatly before him.
“I will not force you. If you wish to spare yourself the pain, then take—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Ryan flung the window open and hurled the medicine and water outside.
Smash!
Anasta's eyes widened at the sound rising from below.
She hurried to the window and saw the shattered glass cup, like ruined work left scattered on the ground.
“I won't take it.”
Ryan offered her a mocking laugh.
Drawn by the sudden crash, the Head Maid stepped in and grasped the situation the moment she saw Anasta and Ryan.
She directed a maid to sweep up the broken shards outside, then called Anasta out.
“He refuses to take his medicine.”
“He is always like this. It seems his temper remains unchanged, even before his bride-to-be.”
“Always? Do you mean he suffers a seizure every time?”
“Yes.”
The Head Maid, who had begun viewing Anasta in a different light after the incident with the meal, seemed slightly disheartened by the familiar outcome.
“How might I get him to take the medicine?”
Unable to find a suitable answer, Anasta sought the Head Maid's advice.
Yet the words that left the woman's lips were appalling.
“If you require knights or sturdy mercenaries, you need only tell me. They will pin his arms and legs, and you may place the pills into the young master's mouth.”
“…What?”
“It has always been done that way. The young master spits the medicine out every time, but after repeating it ten times, his strength wanes and his resistance lessens.”
The Head Maid added, “Though his temper turns far worse afterward.”
Pinning his limbs and shoving medicine down his throat by force?
No matter how vital the treatment was, doing this day after day was treating him as a beast, not a human being.
She remembered the Count's cold estate.
Whenever she grew weak and began to look unpresentable, her parents would shove unpalatable food down her throat.
Anasta knew all too well how humiliating and miserable that truly was.
“…By the way, the young master never leaves this room. Does he dislike going outside?”
“No, the young master's condition is grave. He has been forbidden from stepping out. He cannot even stroll freely through the gardens.”
“What about books? His room is so bare, it must be dreadfully dull.”
The Head Maid looked at her with a hint of irritation.
“The most important thing for the young master is rest. Nor does the young master himself wish to read books or engage in anything meaningful any longer. He merely waits in silence to recover from this affliction.”
That was not waiting; it was resignation.
He was waiting for death to come swiftly.
The Head Maid eyed Anasta as if asking whether she had anything further to say, then glanced at the medicine in her hand.
“The physician always prepares plenty of medication, but supplies deplete quickly. Please take care that such an occurrence is not repeated.”
Though phrased as a request, it was an explicit warning.
Faced with the Head Maid's tacit threat against causing another disturbance, Anasta fell silent once more, as if struck dumb.
If Anasta's life could be summed up in a single truth, it was that every moment had been planned by others.
Born according to her parents' designs, she had been strictly drilled in noble etiquette while starving, never once knowing freedom.
Everything had been forced upon her.
The sole reason she had endured those hellish days was her sister, Natasha.
Natasha had been selfless and gentle, knowing how to sacrifice, yet firm and wise when she needed to be.
Having endured beside her sister, Anasta realized that Ryan had no one like Natasha.
He was entirely alone. His life might have shone brightly before his illness, but now it was utterly hollow and secluded.
“What are you still doing here?”
Ryan asked with a wry edge to his voice as he watched Anasta step back into the room.
“The Head Maid scolded me.”
Ryan looked away, indifferent to her frankness.
“And what of it?”
· · ·
“Ah, will you summon the knights? I suppose you'll have them hold my limbs down and force the medicine into my mouth.”
He chuckled dryly, as though he had expected nothing less.
“I will not force you.”
“Even if I never take it?”
His tone remained defiant.
Anasta approached slowly, holding out the hand cradling the pills.
Two red tablets, one white, and three small round pills…
“Yes.”
· · ·
“I despise compulsion. It is utterly improper.”
“You.”
Ryan called out to her, a hint of anger seeping into his voice.
“More than thirty maids have passed through here. Do you honestly think none of them arrived with sentiments like yours? They claimed this was worse than treating a beast, offering me gentle smiles at first.”
· · ·
“And how did they end up? Every last one fled in tears. Some of them even prayed I'd die quickly whenever they dwelled on their own misery and suffering.”
That was the harsh reality.
Ryan turned his gaze toward the window once he finished speaking, yet Anasta managed to discern a single truth.
Ryan cared about those maids.
Perhaps he deliberately spoke harsh words and adopted such a prickly demeanor because he knew what his end would be.
It was a form of defense.
Anasta chose to believe so, and she closed her hand tightly over the medicine.
If she would not force him, how was she to get Ryan to take it?
With no obvious solution in mind, she paused to consider what Natasha would have done in her place.
Come to think of it, a situation like this had happened before.
Back when she was sick and tried to refuse her medicine, wishing for death as a protest against her parents.
What Natasha had done back then was—
“I will take it myself.”
Startled by Anasta's words, Ryan snapped his head toward her.
His eyes widened, bewildered, looking for all the world like someone who had misheard.
“What did you say?”
“Since plenty of medicine remains, even if I take this dose, there will be more than enough left for you, Sir.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I am quite serious.”
Ryan's brow furrowed at her resolve, and he waved his hand dismissively.
“Fine, go ahead and try.”
“I shall ask you once more. Will you take your medicine?”
“Ask me one more time, and I'll snatch that medicine and fling it out the window again.”
“Understood.”
Without a second's hesitation, Anasta tipped the pills in her hand into her mouth.
END
