13 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)
Chapter 13
“You never looked for painkillers even when shot by bullets on the battlefield…”
Just like on the battlefield.
He gritted his teeth and endured the pain without a single groan.
How could he be so composed?
It wasn't so much that the inertia born of countless frustrations was impressive, but rather sad. It was cold and bitter.
Just because he didn't speak, didn't show it as much as possible, or had experienced pain many times, didn't mean he wasn't hurting...
I wish I could share that pain. I wish I could do something, anything, instead of just watching blankly like this.
The fact that there were separate people who committed sins and those who suffered from those sins, coupled with this time of watching the scene unfold before my eyes and being reminded of past wrongdoings, made my breath catch in my throat again and again.
Rose clutched the hem of her sleeve. She had intended to wipe the sweat from his face. But she stopped herself a step away and gave up. She thought her own flickering shadow might interfere with the examination.
Rose’s gaze, which had been fixed on Ezekiel, suddenly dropped to the floor. And the moment she noticed her fingertips twitching faintly, she knew what she had to do.
Rose knelt quietly beside him. With a force so strong it made her knuckles turn white, she clasped the man’s hand in hers. Sensing her touch, the man tightened his grip. The rough pressure made the bones in her fingers collide and ache, but Rose didn't show it. She figured it was nothing compared to the pain in his head, which must be like a battlefield.
Her palm was instantly soaked.
Each second stretched on endlessly. So long it felt like eternity.
With her breath catching like dry kindling, Rose waited for the Doctor's examination to end. The Doctor, more nervous than the patient, finished the examination over several minutes and turned off the Lamp.
Then, he fell silent.
Ah.
Rose had already read the answer in the Doctor's reaction.
Sometimes, non-verbal expressions carry more meaning than verbal ones. As a maid assisting Ezekiel with his every move, her presence here, his inability to meet her eyes, his nervously flickering pupils, his awkward posture, and the way he swept the tools he had brought back into his Doctor's bag instead of using them further, all clearly hinted at the diagnosis.
After gazing for a moment at the man’s face, contorted with the aftereffects of pain, she rolled up her sleeve and wiped away the flowing sweat.
The silence continued for a while longer.
“How long do you plan to keep your mouth shut? If the examination is over, give me an answer.”
Finally, Ezekiel spoke.
Despite being drenched in sweat, his voice was as dry as if nothing had happened.
The Doctor stammered, “Ah, yes. Well…”
Well.
It’s an expression that rarely accompanies positive news. Moreover, it’s a notorious preamble that lengthens introductions. Ezekiel, who knew well from experience how doctors twisted simple outcomes that could be answered with a yes or no, added a warning.
“Let me tell you first. Don’t try to decode some complicated, pleasant-sounding riddle. Just report what you see and judge.”
Startled by the weight of an officer who had once commanded daily, the Doctor blurted out the conclusion first.
“D-Doctor, from what I see, this eye is beyond hope.”
It was an outcome that didn't deviate from expectations. It was also the answer he had heard countless times before. Still, there was no way to prevent the effort he had endured from feeling suddenly pathetic.
“Damn it.”
Ezekiel spat out a low curse.
Instantly, the air in the drawing-room turned frigid. Even the minor sounds of daily life vanished. It was natural, as he was the one who dictated the atmosphere of the mansion.
From the man’s coldly settled expression, Rose sensed a hint of fierce displeasure.
The bewildered Doctor fidgeted, shifting his weight. His eyes clearly conveyed a desire to escape the drawing-room immediately. Rose understood the frightened Doctor’s feelings to some extent. Perhaps if he were a slender, handsome man like Achenaus, but an officer like Ezekiel, with his imposing build and cold demeanor, could be intimidating with just a slight narrowing of his eyes. Even a short curse was enough to make one’s spirit falter and heart pound.
No… no.
Rose corrected her thoughts.
The comparison was wrong. Achenaus was a man who would hire an assassin to kill his own brother with a smile. He was more insidious and dangerous. Ezekiel, before he lost his sight, was a handsome man even in the fleeting memories from the battlefield. He was the knight who had immediately turned his horse to rescue the schoolgirls trapped inside, and a gentleman who had disciplined his subordinates out of concern for the young female students who feared men.
He was incomparable to the cowardly and petty Achenaus.
If he absolutely had to harm someone, Achenaus would use others to spill blood, but Ezekiel was the type to step forward and finish it himself.
But now, it was a meaningless hypothetical. The current Ezekiel was barely capable of managing himself, let alone confronting Achenaus.
“Don’t you have any more original answers?”
“Excuse me?”
“Not that tiresome, formulaic diagnosis.”
Even without raising his voice, the aura that emanated was chilling.
“It’s strange. Not a single one of them gives a different answer. I don’t know if I’ve met dozens of doctors, or one doctor dozens of times.”
The Doctor looked back at Rose, seeking help. But Rose was in the same boat, this being her first time in such a situation.
“Do you know what I think every time I hear the same diagnosis?”
“…Major.”
“I feel like killing them on the spot. I’ve imagined countless ways to kill them, hundreds of times in my head.”
The conversation took a violent turn. The Doctor, mistaking it for a threat directed at him, turned pale.
However, there was someone else who truly needed to be afraid. Rose recalled a rumor she had heard through Anna.
She remembered hearing that a few doctors had packed their bags and fled the mansion in a hurry immediately after their examinations.
It certainly made sense. He wasn't the type to elaborate on the thoughts in his head, and the loss of his sight had added a somewhat harsh edge to his interactions with people. It was easy to be misunderstood.
Furthermore, while the doctors had each made only one house call, similar situations had repeated themselves dozens of times for him. It was natural for him to become so exasperated that his anger and imagination reached extremes.
However, Rose knew all too well who the actual targets of Ezekiel’s murderous hatred were.
Achenaus.
And herself.
When he repeatedly received the same formulaic diagnoses from doctors, it was only natural for the people who had ruined his eyes and caused this situation to come to mind, one after another. As he said, the more he thought about them, the more he would want to kill them, and he would have steadily honed his hatred while imagining how to do so.
The faint-hearted Doctor did not stay in the drawing-room for long. With a pale face the entire time, he made an excuse that was clearly a lie and hurried away.
Madam Serva, returning after seeing the Doctor off, clicked her tongue.
“They disappeared without even looking back, as if their tails were on fire. I thought they had committed some crime.”
Well.
Rose denied it inwardly. It was precisely because they had committed no crime that they were trying to escape before getting caught in the crossfire. The ability to run away like that, without guilt, was the privilege of the innocent.
That’s how it seemed to her, the guilty one.
“Don’t be discouraged. It was just another incompetent Doctor this time.”
Madam Serva’s consolation was entirely focused on prioritizing Ezekiel’s mood.
All the doctors who had examined him had reached the same conclusion. Lost eyesight was like severed limbs; there was no way to restore it.
Therefore, this visitor was just one of many ordinary doctors with average skills.
“The next doctor will be someone more famous. Speaking of which, I heard a rumor that doctors these days go around giving Medical Performances to advertise their skills, but who was it again…”
Madam Serva looked forward to the next visit.
Next. Another next would come.
Swallowing the word that sat like indigestion, Rose subtly turned her back so her expression wouldn't be seen and tidied the drawing-room.
How could she possibly describe this feeling?
Her mind was in turmoil. Ever since she had faced the Doctor. It felt like a lump lodged deep in her chest, something she could neither swallow nor spit out. It was useless to breathe in and out until her throat ached.
It was a terrible sense of suffocation.
Rose lowered her gaze. Even though it was her own feelings and her own heart, she was afraid to look closely into it. To be honest, it was even more frightening that she vaguely understood the reason.
The pain he had to endure to receive treatment made her heart sink, but when the Doctor diagnosed that there was no way to save his eye…
As she reflected on her own actions just moments ago, a shiver ran down her spine. Her hand trembled slightly. It happened while she was picking up a teacup left on the table. It was tea prepared in the kitchen for the guest, but perhaps the mansion’s peculiar chilly atmosphere had unsettled his stomach, as the Doctor hadn't taken a single sip.
The teacup and saucer clinked, and the spilled tea wet the back of her hand. Fortunately, it was cold tea. Rose quickly wiped her hand with the hem of her dress.
“Rose, are you alright?”
Startled by the noise, Madam Serva turned to Rose.
“Yes, it’s cold tea, so it’s fine.”
She brushed it off, hoping it would seem like a simple mistake. But the chill that ran down her spine left a terrifying aftertaste.
So, when the Doctor diagnosed that there was no way to save his eye…
Rose clasped her trembling hands together.
…part of me felt relieved. I did.
Shamefully.
