MHHC Chapter 125

Concern

"Are you... worried about me right now?"

"I'm... worried about Your Grace?"

At her unexpected retort, Ian's expression hardened.

Irritated, yes. Frustrated, certainly. But worried? From his position, he had neither reason nor sufficient connection to the Grand Duchess to warrant such concern.

Rendered momentarily speechless, Ian finally burst into laughter—the sound edged with disbelief.

"You certainly think well of yourself."

"It's just that you sound as though you're angry with me, Sir Knight."

Well, he was angry, wasn't he? He nearly answered reflexively, then caught himself and clamped his mouth shut in confusion.

Why was he angry in the first place? Self-loathing at accepting help from someone he'd led the charge in condemning as a witch? Or guilt over failing to stop the knights who'd slandered the Grand Duchess behind her back just days ago?

Whatever the reason, his words had been excessive even by his own reckoning. As Ian struggled for words, Adelheid asked again.

"Did I misjudge the situation?"

"It's not that I—I mean, Your Grace is..."

Acting frustratingly. He'd been about to say it when a dim realization swept over him, leaving the words to die unspoken.

Come to think of it, yes. How the Grand Duchess conducted herself, what gossip she endured behind her back—none of it should have concerned him in the first place.

And to call her frustrating? Even if he considered her his lord's wife, such words should never have crossed his lips.

"..."

The belated awareness left Ian blinking mutely.

He wanted desperately to lash out with something, but he now recognized that any words he spoke would amount to nothing more than venting his temper.

His lips parted and closed several times before he finally bit out gruffly:

"Fine, then. If you're aware of what people think of you and choose to tolerate it anyway."

He'd expected this, at least, might wound her. But to his astonishment, Adelheid smiled.

Their eyes met, his own expression stunned, and she seemed to catch herself—wiping the amusement from her face as though it had been accidental.

"I'm sorry for smiling. It's just that this situation strikes me as somewhat remarkable. What you're saying, after all, is that my ability has proven helpful."

"..."

"Of course it's not easy. But for now, many people need me, and I can help them. I thought that made it mutually beneficial—whether they like me or hate me."

The Grand Duchess's matter-of-fact tone rekindled his contempt, which had briefly subsided. He stared at her, then finally couldn't restrain himself.

"You speak as though you're completely devoid of self-interest."

"Did it sound that way?"

He despised this hypocritical attitude of hers. At moments like this, the Grand Duchess seemed less human than a perfectly crafted doll.

"Just be honest. That would be better than maintaining this meaningless pretense."

"..."

"Honestly, forgiving people who'd treated you coldly for three years in a single moment was strange from the start. And caring for those same people with such devotion when they're injured is even more bizarre."

Adelheid tilted her head at Ian's words.

Forgiveness had come easily because she'd felt no affection deep enough to produce betrayal. She was more accustomed to letting emotions flow away than storing them up.

It had never once occurred to her that this might be problematic. The realization left her unsettled.

"And the way you don't let what you're thinking show on your face—that's the same."

Doesn't show on her face? Only then did Adelheid begin taking Ian's words seriously.

And the recognition disturbed her just as much. She'd thought herself clumsy at expressing emotion, perhaps, but honest in feeling it. Always. In every moment.

Of course, she'd suppressed the negative ones.

But who wanted to see those, anyway? It wasn't as though she'd never smiled... As she retraced the past defensively, Valentin's voice surfaced unbidden in her memory.

'That aside, I would rather welcome the situation where you grow angry with me... Sometimes you're too rigid.'

Rigid. The moment she shaped the word with her lips, her mouth went dry without her realizing it.

'I want to see you not merely surviving, but desperately wanting something.'

She swallowed the exclamation that threatened to escape like a groan. Words whose meaning she hadn't dared guess at the time now rushed toward understanding, borrowed through a third party's observation.

'Laughing at good things, recoiling from unpleasant ones, achieving things, being greedy, even being stubborn.'

Valentin had been reading her all along. Recognizing that she lacked certain intense emotions that should be fundamental to any living human being.

If it was obvious enough for a non-human existence to notice, how much more severe must it appear to human eyes?

"I understand what you're worried about, Sir Knight."

After a long pause, Adelheid finally spoke, her face gone pale.

"I also understand that you're looking for convenient excuses to hate me comfortably, rather than out of consideration for me."

"I'm not—"

"I can't agree with the implication that I lack emotion. I simply don't express it outwardly—I feel everything inside."

Adelheid cut off Ian's words with firm resolve. She acknowledged to herself that she was angrier at his rudeness than she'd initially realized.

In truth, Valentin's words and Ian's shared similar undertones. Similar, and yet they struck her with entirely different understanding and emotion—a curious thing.

Perhaps the difference lay between meddling presumption and deep affection.

When she'd decided to use healing magic on people who reviled her as a monster, her anguish and terror had been beyond imagination. Ian had just negated all that effort with a few careless sentences.

"Sir Knight, I—"

She had no purpose? Simply living couldn't be a person's purpose? Adelheid knew these were among all the things Ian had said to her, the ones she should dismiss as nonsense.

And yet they cut like a blade against her most sensitive weakness.

Perhaps because some part of her recognized his words as approaching truth.

Compared to others, she did lack both the will to sustain life and any clear purpose.

'Without Valentin, even more so.'

Adelheid bit her lip hard. Normally she would have suppressed even this feeling without showing it. But now—

"I am satisfied with doing what I can, here and now."

Her voice sounded cold even to her own ears.

"I hope Ansgar prospers. It's His Grace's land, and it's where I'll continue to live. If you say that's insufficient purpose for living, then I honestly don't know what purpose I should have instead."

"..."

"My attitude won't change much regardless of what people think going forward. I'll continue doing my best at what I can do, just as I am now."

"..."

"And perhaps people's perceptions will change eventually. Maybe I'll even find a goal I want more desperately."

For now, Valentin was her only goal and the sole meaning of her life.

When she considered everything he'd sacrificed for her sake, she wanted only to repay him somehow. Even if it cost her everything.

And Adelheid also knew that Valentin would take no pleasure whatsoever in such sacrificial devotion.

He wanted them to live together. The man who gave up his very life and future could say such things.

"Just the fact that I'll be in his future going forward—"

She couldn't finish the sentence, swallowing the breath that surged up her throat. The more she spoke, the more desperately she missed Valentin.

She ached for him. Wanted to breathe in his scent, be held tight in his solid embrace, feel the sensation of being alive with fierce intensity once more.

It had been too long since she'd seen him.

"...Let me finish tending your wound."

Feeling tears threatening, she hurriedly lowered her head and wrapped the bandage tightly around his leg. The extra force in her grip was minor revenge.

After a long silence filled only with groans, Ian finally mumbled in a somewhat deflated voice:

"I apologize."

"..."

"I... seem to have spoken presumptuously."

Adelheid nearly answered "it's fine" out of habit, then swallowed the words.

Honestly, it wasn't fine at all—and he was the very person who'd complained about her not showing her feelings.

Instead of responding, Adelheid hurriedly finished the treatment and rose to her feet. Then, her face still cold, she said:

"I should be able to use healing magic the day after tomorrow. At this rate you'll recover without complications. Until then, don't move around excessively."

"Thank you..."

Adelheid barely acknowledged the gratitude, gathering an armful of soiled bandages and leaving the tent.

Outside, the hour had grown close to dawn. Except for a few sentries, most people slept in quietness.

She descended to a nearby stream to catch her breath and wash the filthy bandages, escaping at last from the curious stares that had plagued her all day.

Tension drained from her spine as distance grew between her and the watching eyes.

'When will we finally reach Ansgar territory?'

The schedule kept delaying further because of the injured. Her endurance was reaching its limit now.

The fitful sleep snatched in rattling, jolting carriages. The dry rations at every meal. Honestly, she could barely stand it anymore.