Chapter 9: The Rebuilt Relationship, and the Premonition of a Proposal

The next day.

My castle, the Second Library, was unnaturally quiet.

Normally, by two in the afternoon, the door would open and Mr. Bear would come in with a tired look on his face.

But today, even as the clock hand passed three, there was not a single knock.

“…It’s too quiet.”

I closed the book I had been reading.

This was supposed to be the silence I wanted, yet for some reason, I could not settle down.

The image of him standing so boldly in my defense at last night’s ball crossed my mind.

“She is my cherished guest.”

The heat in his voice still lingered in my ears.

Knock, knock.

A restrained knocking sound.

I stood up quickly, thinking it was him, but the one who entered was an unfamiliar attendant.

“Lady Eliana, correct.
…Prince Claude has collapsed.”

At that moment, my heart made a sickening thud.

I hurriedly gathered my things and left the library.

Leaving my workplace for any reason other than “leaving on time” was a first since I had started this job.

I was guided deep into the palace, to the private chambers of His Highness the Prince.

Before the heavy door, the court physician quietly explained, “His fever has gone down, but fatigue has accumulated…”

“Excuse me.”

Inside, the room was spacious yet stark.

There were minimal decorations.

Instead, documents had invaded even the bedside table.

…Had this man been working right up until he went to sleep.

“…Eliana, is that you?”

A hoarse voice came from the bed.

Claude-sama tried to raise his upper body, only to sink weakly back into the pillow.

His face was flushed, his breathing shallow.

He looked nothing like the dignified knight from last night.

“Please don’t move.
I only came to visit.”

I sat down on the chair beside the bed.

He averted his gaze awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.
…After putting on such a show last night, this is how I end up the very next day.
It’s not very dignified.”

“People break down when they push themselves too hard.
Especially after dealing with unpleasant people, like Prince Kyle.”

When I made the joke, he let out a small laugh.

“…You’re strong.”

“No.
I’m just good at running away.”

“That is strength.
…I can’t run away.”

His voice suddenly grew heavy.

Perhaps the fever had thinned the walls around his heart.

He stared up at the ceiling and began to speak, little by little.

“My brother is a great king.
I must be his perfect shadow, his flawless support.
…If I slack off even a little, the nation will falter.
When an immature successor like Kyle inherits the throne, this country will end unless I hold it together.”

Expectations.
Responsibility.
Duty.

They were layered together like chains, binding him in place.

“I can’t live freely like you.
…Sometimes, I feel like I’m forgetting how to breathe.”

His confession was identical to words I once spoke myself.

My former life.

And the me of yesterday, who tried to be the perfect fiancée.

“…You’re an idiot.”

I said it bluntly.

He looked at me in surprise.

“An idiot, huh.
…You might be right.”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect human.
If you collapse, who do you think will suffer?”

“…The people, my brother, and…”

“I will.”

I cut him off.

“If you’re not around, the tea snacks will go uneaten.
And the library will be so quiet that it’s unsettling.”

“…That would be a problem.”

“Right.
So please rest when you need to.
That’s not ‘slacking off,’ it’s ‘maintenance’ for tomorrow.
…A craftsman who neglects his tools, meaning himself, is second-rate.”

As I laid out my personal theory, also known as my excuse, his eyes widened, then he laughed from deep in his throat.

“Kuh… hahahaha.
Second-rate, huh.
…You’re the only one who would say something like that to a chancellor.”

“Because it’s true.”

I stood up and drew in the air of the room.

It smelled of medicine and felt stagnant.
No wonder he wasn’t recovering.

“《Cleanse》.”

I snapped my fingers.

A breeze swept through the room, purifying the stagnant air.

The light streaming in through the window seemed a little brighter.

“…The air tastes good.”

Claude-sama took a deep breath.

“Yes.
Next is nutrition.”

I took an apple out of the basket.

Mina had pressed it into my hands, saying, “This is good for colds.”

I took out a knife and skillfully peeled the skin.

The red peel came off smoothly and was cut into little rabbit shapes.

“Here you go.
I won’t do ‘ahh,’ so please eat it yourself.”

When I offered him the plate, he took the fork with a wry smile.

Crunch.

“…Sweet.”

“Right.
Eating good food, breathing clean air, and sleeping.
That’s the best medicine.”

After watching him eat the apple, I began getting ready to leave.

Staying too long would be bad.

A patient’s job is to sleep.

“Well then, I’ll be going.
…I’ll be waiting at the library tomorrow.”

Just as I turned my back—

Squeeze.

My wrist was grabbed.

It was a hot hand.

“Wait.”

When I turned around, Claude-sama was looking straight up at me with feverish eyes.

In them was not weakness, but a clinging, resolute will.

“…Could you stay a little longer?”

“But it will strain your body.”

“…When you’re beside me, I…”

He searched for the words, then smiled as if he had found the one that fit best.

“When I’m with you, I can breathe.”

My heart skipped violently.

It was more earnest than any declaration of love, and it pierced straight into my chest.

To breathe.

Just as I once found salvation by discovering the library.

For him, the place where he could breathe was not the library—

It was me.

“…I suppose it can’t be helped.”

I sighed theatrically and sat back down in the chair.

The hand holding my wrist did not let go.

His warmth flowed into me through my palm.

“Only until you fall asleep.”

“Yes.
…Thank you, Eliana.”

He closed his eyes, looking relieved.

His grip loosened, but his fingers intertwined with mine, refusing to part.

It did not take long for his breathing to even out into sleep.

As I watched his sleeping face, I became aware that my own face was growing warm.

‘…At this rate, I don’t even know which one of us is being nursed.’

I could no longer call him a “work companion.”

I could no longer call him “Mr. Bear.”

I was afraid to give this feeling a name, and at the same time, I was anticipating it.

The warmth of his hand told me.

That there was someone here who needed my way of living, my way of saying “you don’t have to try so hard,” more than anyone else.

Outside the window, the evening bells rang.

They sounded like the signal for the beginning of a new stage in our relationship.

And when he recovered and next came to the library.

I still did not know that in his hand, instead of documents, he would be holding a life-changing “contract.”