AYR 39

“Madam gave it to Hilda before she passed away. She said to open it when needed… This is what the madam left for us.”

“I’ll take it back. It belongs to my wife.”

Lahart put the envelope into his arms. Having achieved his goal, he grabbed the doorknob without hesitation.

But before opening the door, he asked Brown in a soft voice,

“Your wife.”

“Yes.”

“Did she cry at Iren’s funeral?”

The tone of his question was so monotonous that it sounded more like a monologue than a question. Brown immediately nodded his head.

It wasn’t a difficult question.

“Hilda was really sad. She cried for days even after returning home. Neither Michel nor I cried as much as Hilda, but it was hard to hold back our tears, so Hilda must have been even more so.”

Lahart left the farm as soon as he heard Brown’s answer.

A few days later, items sent by Duke Cardius arrived at Hilda and Brown’s farm. It was gold enough to buy all the nearby farms, along with various precious items including jewels.

Hilda, who had been furiously ranting about being treated as beggars, found something strange among the shiny items.

It was a small box of unknown origin. Opening the box revealed an even smaller envelope inside.

The envelope contained five pieces of paper. Everything Iren wanted to inform Hilda about was written in a completely different handwriting.

* * *

Late at night, the lights in Lahart’s office were as bright as during the day.

Lahart was up all night dealing with work.

Lying in bed waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come was a waste of time, as much as waiting for someone who couldn’t return.

Agriculture was undoubtedly the work Lahart had been focusing on recently.

He had no interest in farming work and it wasn’t his area of expertise, but the situation in Sirencia was urgent and he had no choice.

He gathered all the so-called experts to some extent to form a framework.

Of course, this was possible thanks to the excellent materials left by Iren. Everyone who reviewed the materials unanimously praised Iren.

Lahart’s eyes, which had been smoothly reading the text, suddenly stopped. He encountered a difficult part to understand. His neat brow furrowed in annoyance.

Lahart put down the documents and opened a drawer. There were two envelopes inside the drawer.

One contained Iren’s will. The other contained farming advice left for some woman named Hilda or something.

The will and advice were laid side by side on the desk.

Which one had Iren written first? Both were written before her death, but without dates or times written on them, it was impossible to tell which was written first just by looking. And coincidentally, both used the same type of paper.

Lahart tapped his fingertips on the desk.

He didn’t know. He was thinking of Iren every moment he wasn’t focused on work, considering it so natural that he wasn’t even aware of it himself.

Now, he was seriously considering things that weren’t important at all, such as when the will and notes were written.

His long fingers, which had been rhythmically tapping, stopped.

He thought back to a few days before Iren’s death when she had gone to inspect a farm. Come to think of it, Iren seemed odd that day.

“There is a carriage you rode in.”

Not grasping the hand he reached out but just staring blankly.

“I asked a foolish question.”

Or uncharacteristically responding in a sarcastic tone.

That day’s memory unfolded vividly like a play before his eyes. Lahart felt a clear sense of dissonance from Iren.

At that time, he thought his mood was sour because they had just fought over some nonsense Iren was spouting, but looking back, it seemed less like Iren was being spiteful and more like…

‘It hardly matters.’

That meant Iren had already guessed at her death.

Iren had plenty of time to inform him about her physical condition. Even just a few days would have been enough to do something.

‘Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you stay silent even though you had the skills to solve problems that many couldn’t solve alone? Did you really want to die? Were you more afraid of staying by my side than death?’

‘D*mn it.’

Lahart muttered a curse under his breath and tidied up his desk.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, he heard a voice calling him from beside him.

“Lahart.”

In this world, there were only two people who called him by his name, who were allowed to do so.

But neither of them could be here now to call his name.

One was in the safest place in the palace, and the other lay in a cold coffin.

“Are you okay? You look pale.”

Lahart, standing still as a statue, felt fingers touch his cheek. The tips of those pale and slender fingers carried the scent of herbs.

A loathsome yet pitiful fragrance that stirred something deep within his belly.

It was then that Lahart finally turned his head towards the direction from which the hand had reached out. Iren was there.

Was it because of the flickering candlelight? She seemed so fragile, as if she might extinguish at any moment.

“……You.”

“Let’s go to our bedroom. I’ll apply some ointment.”

Iren took his arm and gently pulled him along. Lahart was not so weak as to be unable to shake off her thin arm that felt like it might break with just a bit more force.

Yet, he followed Iren, enchanted.

A few steps ahead, Iren’s dress fluttered. Her black hair covering her back also swayed slightly.

Her hair is black? That can’t be. Your hair hasn’t been black for years.

“Iren, your hair……”

“What about it? Ah, my hair…… you said you didn’t like it. Yes, I remember.”

They must have reached the couple’s bedroom when a cold air brushed against the skin.

Lahart hadn’t stepped foot in here since Iren’s death. Naturally, there was no light, and darkness fell where one couldn’t see an inch ahead, yet Iren’s figure was clearly visible.

Iren, who had been looking forward the whole time, turned around. She smiled softly.

“I’ll kill that detestable Irelaide for you, Lahart.”

Like a candle being extinguished, Iren’s apparition disappeared in an instant.

Lahart reached out to where Iren had just been. All that met his hand was darkness. Even that slipped through his fingers, eluding his grasp.

“Khk……!”

His head throbbed as if struck hard by something heavy. A severe pain enveloped half his body, feeling as though his skin was shrinking from being burnt by fire.

A chilling pain as if sharp nails were scraping down his heart struck him repeatedly. Staggering, Lahart lost his balance and fell.

The table he collided with made a loud noise as it toppled over.

* * *

“Huh, this is really……”

The doctor, who had examined Lahart without even wiping the sweat from his forehead, couldn’t hide his dismay.

Lahart’s condition was the worst. No, it was so terrible that the word ‘worst’ wasn’t sufficient to describe it.

None of the wounds he had accumulated over five years of wandering battlefields had been properly treated, leaving scars everywhere. Pierced, cut, and beaten wounds that any sentient being wouldn’t have been able to ignore.

The doctor seriously wondered if Lahart had lost his sense of feeling.

‘If he hasn’t lost his sense of feeling, has he been abusing himself?’

While the injuries were severe, what was more serious were the aftereffects of poison.

The poisoned half of his body looked as though it was rotting away on the outside, but no new symptoms had emerged. The poison that had consumed his flesh hadn’t been completely detoxified but also couldn’t eat away at his body any further.

It was because Iren had diligently fed him medicine and applied ointment.

But with Iren gone, there was no way to properly manage the aftereffects and pain.

The doctor came out of Lahart’s bedroom looking troubled. Robben and Kaman, who were waiting outside, approached the doctor.

“Is His Grace alright?”

“There’s nothing worse than His Grace’s condition except for a corpse. Has he been receiving medical examinations all this time?”

“We couldn’t even lay a hand on him.”

“There are so many problems I don’t even know where to start. First off, is there any medicine left by the lady? Or any medicine that His Grace has been taking separately?”

Robben and Kaman looked at each other. Medicine left by Iren…

“There is……”

“Bring it to me immediately. And if you have any extra, give it to me or have another pharmacist make a similar compound.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Are you joking? His Grace is in a state where it wouldn’t be surprising if he passed away soon!”

“It’s impossible because His Grace has it.”

“No, huh…… what is this…… What is His Grace thinking! If there’s medicine, he should take it!”

The excited doctor stuttered. Robben and Kaman nodded with expressions full of things to say.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t been doing anything. As the two people closest to serving Lahart, they quickly noticed his health deteriorating little by little.

Even if they didn’t know exactly what medicine Iren had left along with her will, knowing its existence meant they had recommended taking it several times.

Lahart ignored their advice every time but once responded like this.

“If I take that medicine, I will become whatever Iren wants me to be.”

It was a cryptic statement. But Lahart’s demeanor was so menacing that they couldn’t recommend he take the medicine.

“The madam’s medicine is as good as nonexistent. Isn’t there another way?”

“Sigh… I really don’t know. The duke’s symptoms are too complex and have persisted for such a long time that it’s difficult to find a treatment with just one examination. For now, prescribing sleeping pills and painkillers seems to be my best option.”

The doctor, having prescribed the medication, shook his head in dismay and left the castle.

Robben gathered the medicine and went inside. Contrary to the doctor’s words that the severity might cause him to lose consciousness for days, Lahart was sitting on the bed. It was the unbearable pain that had awakened his consciousness.

Robben cautiously offered Lahart the medicine.

“These are sleeping pills and painkillers. They should help.”

“……Iren.”

“Pardon?”

“Iren is… No, never mind.”

Lahart quickly emptied the medicine and staggered to his feet.

Dragging his staggering body, he headed to the room where flowers were planted.

The suffocating scent of flowers filled the corridor and then dispersed. Robben sighed deeply as he watched the door close behind Lahart.

It was a night filled with aching longing for the deceased duchess.