Ryan hated Anasta.
He hated that she stayed cooped up in this cramped room, despite having a sound, healthy body.
And he hated the sheer impudence of that woman serving him, despite having two free legs of her own.
She could have run away at any moment, yet she didn’t.
· · ·
‘She must pity me.’
That terrified him more than anything.
“I’m in a foul mood right now, so get out of my sight in five seconds. If you don't disappear, I’ll scream.”
Ryan made a show of force, gripping her wrist tightly as she wiped down the floor and delivering a harsh warning simply because her presence grated on his nerves.
Yet even after being treated like that, Anasta always carried on as though nothing had happened.
How on earth could he get this woman to stop?
“Ah.”
At that moment, Ryan felt a shift in his body—a numbness that was familiar, yet something he could never grow used to no matter how often it struck.
He felt the sensation drain from the tips of his fingers, slowly creeping across the rest of his body.
“Damn it!”
Even with taking his medicine regularly, bouts of paralysis or convulsions would seize him every now and then.
“Young Master?”
Anasta stepped closer after noticing the sudden change in him.
“Damn it, don't… don't come any closer.”
“Young Master.”
“Ugh!”
The seizure began in earnest; the numbness surged up from his fingertips into his arm, and then he started shaking violently.
Spasms began ripping through his legs and waist as well.
Ryan had caught sight of himself in a mirror once while in this state; it was a horrifying, utterly hideous spectacle.
His body flailing like a fish trapped in a net looked hardly human at all.
Yes, he looked like a monster.
“Young Master!”
“Get out! I told you to get out!”
He didn't want anyone to see him like this, especially not this woman, Anasta.
He ground his teeth together, but the convulsions would not subside, and the paralysis climbed all the way to his neck.
Ryan’s face turned pale, and he began gasping in agony.
“Head Maid!”
Anasta called for the Head Maid, who hurried into the room accompanied by a manservant.
Sensing the gravity of the situation at once, they rushed to Ryan's bed, held down his arms and legs, and cleared his airway.
“Young Master! The doctor is on his way, please hold on!”
Ryan could neither hear nor see a thing.
Tears welled in his eyes, and the veins in his neck bulged.
After a bout of violent thrashing, sensation slowly returned to him, and he clenched his fist tightly. Fortunately, it had been a brief seizure.
“Breathe out.”
Following the Head Maid's instructions, he began steadying his breath.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo.”
As his senses cleared, he caught the gazes of those who were holding him down.
A wretched, horrifying moment.
And today, the horror felt far worse than usual.
For the first time, Ryan saw terror on Anasta's face. Her expression was utterly shocked, as though she were watching someone suffer a convulsive seizure for the very first time.
“It is a common seizure with this illness. It is fortunate that it subsided so quickly.”
The doctor let out a sigh of relief once the seizure had passed.
“Have you been taking your medicine regularly?”
· · ·
“Young Master.”
Ryan was entirely absent-minded, his gaze fixed blankly out the window.
His usual touchiness and sharpness were gone, leaving only vacant eyes staring unfocused into the sky.
“You must take your medicine faithfully, Young Master.”
· · ·
“Another seizure could strike, so I shall remain at the estate today.”
Just as the doctor was about to take his leave following the examination,
“Doctor, when am I going to die?”
Ryan whispered in a tremulous, broken voice.
“…You must not lose hope, Young Master.”
“Hope was all I had for three years. They say a silent illness is the scariest kind, and this wretched disease is just that. I’ll be fine, and then out of nowhere, an attack strikes. Every time it does, I feel my life being cut short, and even with the medicine, the spasms keep coming. I want to die now. Isn't it time for me to go yet?”
“…I shall take my leave.”
After the doctor left, Ryan continued to stare out the window for a long while before finally noticing Anasta's absence.
“…Where is Anasta?”
Had she run off in terror? Well, that look on her face… had been quite something to behold.
“The lady went to see the Duchess.”
“The Duchess?”
“Yes. She learned about the incident with the medicine from last time.”
Ah, that incident where she took my medicine herself?
It seemed his dear stepmother intended to pin the blame for this seizure on Anasta.
Ryan gave a bitter smile.
Perhaps that was for the best.
Ryan thought it would be just as well if Anasta were thrown out after receiving a harsh scolding from the Duchess.
He had no desire to see Anasta's face ever again.
Slap!
Anasta's face snapped to the left. A vivid red mark bloomed against her soft, pale skin.
“I heard from the Head Maid that you caused an unnecessary uproar by swallowing Ryan’s medicine?”
Anasta kept silent. She knew the truth and was well aware that excuses would accomplish nothing, so she chose silence instead—only for another slap to whip her face to the side.
“Did you take his medicine this time as well?”
The Duchess’s tone was graceful and composed, betraying no sign that she had just struck someone.
Pulling out a handkerchief, she wiped the hand that had struck Anasta and sat down calmly.
“Speak. I asked if you took the medicine this time as well.”
“No, I did not.”
“Then why did he suffer a seizure?”
Anasta had no answer for that either; Ryan had been eating regular meals and taking his medicine right on schedule.
Terrified of giving him the wrong dosage, she had always checked with the Head Maid or the Butler before administering it.
Everything had been carried out meticulously and by the book, yet Ryan had still suffered a seizure.
“Haa, it seems it was another sudden attack.”
Once the Duchess realized Anasta was not at fault, she brushed the matter aside without offering a single word of apology.
“This is the most vexing part. How am I to explain this to my husband?”
She was far more concerned with managing the situation than with Ryan’s actual condition.
Anasta studied the woman sighing in annoyance with clear, unblinking eyes.
Perhaps because he was not her flesh and blood, she mistreated him and viewed him merely as a burden.
The only reason the Duchess showed any concern for Ryan was her husband, Duke Soltaire.
“Madam, the Duke has arrived.”
At the servant's announcement, the Duchess's brow furrowed.
She rose as though bearing a heavy burden, then fixed her gaze on Anasta.
“You come out as well. I shall introduce you.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Anasta followed the Duchess, her cheek burning a deeper shade of red.
All the while, her thoughts drifted to Ryan in his room.
‘Is he all right now? He needs to take his evening medicine before going to sleep…’
Her concern was soon cut short.
The Duke, having just returned to the estate, walked in with an exceedingly grim expression.
Unlike the composed Duchess, the Duke’s face, etched with worry for his son, bore a resemblance to Ryan that anyone could see.
“Oh, dear. You've returned?”
“I came the moment I heard the news. They say Ryan suffered a seizure. He had been stable for a while, so why…”
“His surroundings simply changed. He has a wife now as well…”
“A wife?”
The Duke’s deep, piercing gaze shifted toward Anasta.
“You brought in a wife after all. Didn't we agree to wed him once his condition improved?”
“And what if he missed his chance for marriage? Ryan’s condition had been quite good lately.”
“And yet he suffered a seizure!”
“It won't happen again. I will make sure his wife is disciplined strictly as well.”
The Duchess said this while glancing at Anasta's reddened cheek; it was clear proof of her discipline.
Understanding her meaning, the Duke said no more and began examining Anasta's appearance closely.
Beautiful blonde hair, and green eyes that carried the fresh scent of summer.
A slender frame, skin smooth like porcelain, long limbs, and round, doll-like eyes above delicate lips.
“You said she was the daughter of Count Winterlit?”
“I chose her with great care. She received formal bridal training before coming here.”
“Is he satisfied with her?”
He meant Ryan.
Flustered for a moment, the Duchess put on a forced smile.
“They are still getting to know each other. It is an arranged marriage, after all.”
“Regardless, I must go see my son.”
Anasta and the Duchess bowed as they watched the Duke's retreating figure hurry toward the annex.
“You.”
The moment the Duke was out of sight, the smile vanished from the Duchess’s face.
“Watch yourself from now on. You must not do anything to displease Ryan or cause trouble.”
· · ·
“I am the one who brought you here. Do not forget that any misstep of yours brings shame upon my face.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Anasta answered obediently.
Yet the very next day, she found Ryan hanging from the window, trying to die.
END
