TLNTAAM Chapter 19

Don't Go Dying on Your Own

Diomede wrapped a bandage around my forehead. He said it would heal soon enough, but added a warning not to let it get wet. I rotated my perfectly fine ankle this way and that, cooperating with his examination.

"You follow instructions better than I expected."

Is there a reason not to? I tilted my head and asked.

"Don't patients generally listen to their doctors?"

Expert advice is usually worth taking, isn't it?

At that, Diomede pressed a hand to his own forehead. He was a man of restrained expression, but his face was thoroughly annoyed.

"I wish the soldiers understood that."

Ah. So that was it. Soldiers everywhere caused accidents because they had too much energy to burn. Youth invited recklessness, and recklessness invited injury.

Even last night, soldiers had come to the ward having hurt themselves doing something pointless. Why on earth anyone would show off tricks with a blade and end up magnificently sliced open was beyond me.

"Hang in there."

I said it with a smile. Diomede looked at me with an expression of clear displeasure.

"Don't go getting yourself injured."

Oh. He was worried about me.

Well. This person is kinder than I thought. I scratched my cheek slightly and said thank you. Diomede waved me off, and I walked out of the ward and made my slow way back to my quarters.

My head felt clear. Nothing hurt. The time spent in the ward, for all the stress I'd endured getting there, had been genuinely decent.

'This is why people need rest.'

I have to remember to ask Mary about days off. I nodded to myself and headed toward my workplace. First things first: I had food-tasting duties in the waiting room.

Mary only asked whether I'd been badly hurt, then handed me the food to taste. I ate quickly and swallowed it down, and Charlotte pushed the tray out with her usual practiced efficiency.

At my answer that I was perfectly fine, the older maid shook her head slowly back and forth. I puzzled over what, exactly, that was supposed to mean.

"I was the one who dressed you."

I nearly dropped into a curtsy on the spot. My goodness. My savior was right here all along.

"I'm truly grateful. I was a little worried, I'll admit."

I'd woken up fully clothed, right down to my underthings, which had been such a relief—and it had been Mary who'd done it.

But even at my thanks, Mary shook her head again, side to side.

"You were bleeding down your face, your ankle was twisted—do you have any idea how alarmed I was when they brought you to the ward?"

"I only heard later how serious it actually was."

"It's entirely His Grace's fault. Barging into a women-only area without any thought—"

Mary clicked her tongue and examined my bandaged forehead from every angle.

"I'd hate for it to leave a scar..."

"It'll be fine. I don't think it will."

"Did Dio say that?"

"No."

If intracranial bleeding could heal in five days, a forehead wound probably wouldn't scar. Diomede had also said, while wrapping the bandage, to just be careful of swelling and bruising.

"Then how can you be so certain? In any case—scar or no scar, you're safe, and that's what matters. Off you go now."

Because I trust this particular constitution of mine. I smiled awkwardly and dipped into a small curtsy.

"I'll be on my way. Oh—and thank you for patting me on the chest in the ward. That too."

I touched the area near my chest as I said it. Mary shook her head.

"That wasn't me."

"Pardon?"

"It was chaos here without you around to taste the food. I barely had time to get to the ward at all."

Then who was it?

I looked down at my own chest. It had been a distinctly gentle patting—the kind meant to soothe, the sort a grandmother might use on a grandchild she was fond of. I'd assumed it was Mary, but apparently not.

'The people here who actually like me are extremely few.'

Whoever it was, they must be a very kind person. But who?

'Probably not the doctor or the nurse.'

Diomede wasn't the type, and the nurse had seemed rushed off her feet.

I left the waiting room with my head tilted. No matter how thoroughly I turned my mind over, no likely candidate surfaced.

"Nina, I heard you were very ill. I was so worried."

Seraphie's voice was like birdsong. The sound of jade beads rolling across a silver tray—perhaps this was what that expression meant. She had just finished her morning meal and was beaming at me. Looking at her platinum hair scattered between shafts of sunlight, I was struck fresh by the depth of Seraphie's beauty.

'No wonder the Grand Duke fell for her.'

I dipped into a curtsy. I hadn't expected to see her again after five whole days either.

"What's the bandage on your forehead for?"

"I bumped into something. I'm fine now."

"I was so worried! Is your stomach really better now?"

Hm? What stomach? When was my stomach ever the problem?

"You had such a terrible stomachache. Being isolated for treatment must have been so hard."

What is happening. I was injured in my head and ankle, not my stomach. Why does Seraphie have me down as a stomach ailment? And what isolation?

"I wanted to come treat you myself, but everyone talked me out of it. They kept saying it was nothing serious, but you were gone so long—I was so worried. You really are all better now, right?"

Seraphie asked with the warmth of spring sunshine, but I couldn't answer.

What is this about. Why am I listed as recovering from a stomachache as far as Seraphie's concerned. And if it was an isolated stomach illness serious enough to require recovery, that's something like gastroenteritis?

Then came a stifled laugh. I looked quietly toward the source. Charlotte was smoothing out the hem of Seraphie's dress, looking back at me with a small, poisonous smile.

'So it was you.'

It appeared that brain hemorrhage had become gastroenteritis thanks to Charlotte.

A sigh came out on its own. But correcting it meant talking to Seraphie from the beginning, which was its own kind of trouble. Being honest would require explaining, from the start, how I'd ended up taking a bath in the first place.

'That's exhausting and difficult.'

The Grand Duke walked in and I toppled out of the tub. Split my forehead, wrenched my ankle, and—oh, how remarkable!—survived thanks to an unusual constitution.

'Let's just call it a stomachache and move on.'

That's simpler. The explanation isn't worth the effort.

I smiled broadly and answered.

"All better. Completely fine."

At my answer, Seraphie beamed and pulled me into a hug. I blinked at the sudden warmth of her scent surrounding me.

Seraphie whispered in a voice sweet enough to melt.

"Don't get sick anymore, okay? Promise?"

She was genuinely lovely. A beauty with a face this pretty and a heart this good—she was humanity's treasure.

'Well, she's literally a treasure.'

A saint was that kind of existence. More precious and dear than anyone else in the world.

'But can someone really be this kind?'

Strangely, sometimes Seraphie seemed so gentle that she came across as the type of older sister who'd get swindled at a market stall.

'Is this the time to be worrying about someone else?'

I sighed, imagining Seraphie buying dubious miracle tonics and unnecessary ornaments from some hawker. Whatever else might be said, there were many people in this world to protect her. If the original story held, she'd spend her life well-fed and cared-for alongside the king who would dedicate himself to her.

'My own situation is the pressing concern.'

I resolved to stop worrying about Seraphie and start thinking about how to extend Nina's survival.

Then a low voice came.

"Everyone out."

It came from the far side of the bed curtains. I knew now whose voice that was.

'Still, it seems things are moving along well between the king and Seraphie.'

Wanting everyone gone so they can be alone—yes? The original couple moving quickly, I suppose. I eased out of Seraphie's arms and whispered that I'd see her later. Seraphie whined at me not to go, but I pointed toward the bed and followed Charlotte toward the door.

Just as I was about to leave, the king spoke from behind me.

"Why is the rabbit leaving?"

I stopped and turned around. The king stood with his arms folded, regarding me with an expression of distinct displeasure.

'Well, of course I thought I should leave.'

I shuffled back toward him like a student hiding their test paper.

"Come closer."

The innermost room of the inner castle held only the two of us and Seraphie. There were soldiers standing guard behind the curtains, of course, but their duty was silence.

'This feels a bit strange.'

Charlotte left. Why can't I?

My slow approach apparently displeased him, because the king stepped forward toward me in a few long strides. I dipped into a proper curtsy.

"It's been a while. Rabbit."

I scratched my cheek lightly and smiled. Indeed. Five whole days, Your terrifyingly handsome Majesty.

The king came close and pressed my cheek against his palm. His high body heat met my face.

"Say something."

With everything before and after cut away, I had no idea what he meant.

"Pardon?"

"Anything at all. Just speak."

What on earth was he asking for. Say something? I'd at least understand if he asked me to sing—bewildering, but doable. But just talk? Was I supposed to recite scripture?

I answered honestly.

"I'm not sure what you're asking of me, Your Majesty."

The answer seemed to please him. The king gave a short smile and stroked my cheek, slow and light. His touch was like a well-fed predator, sated and languid.

He looks pleased. Is the coolness he feels through Nina really that much like a drug? Like soda at first, but actually closer to a mint-flavored cigarette? I was starting to wonder. Then suddenly my body lifted.

"What—what is this?!"

The king had scooped me up without warning. I flailed my arms in surprise, but he simply stroked my cheek as though nothing unusual was happening.

"Lighter than I expected. Nina Cage."

"Pardon? Yes."

"There's a promise We need from you."

Suddenly, a promise?

Excuse me, Your Majesty. I don't know what you're about to ask, but if I say no, would you even hear it? I'm the type that avoids standing surety for anyone and approaches insurance with extreme caution. This doesn't feel like something I can take back, and do I really need to be making promises with you, of all people?

'What is this about?'

My head was in chaos. I had absolutely no idea what was happening, and I could only blink—and the king seemed entirely untroubled by that. I looked at him. The handsome man with fine black hair falling loose smiled at me.

"Don't go dying on your own."

What does that mean? Ah—is this about almost dying from the brain hemorrhage?

Then I caught myself. I turned my head quickly toward Seraphie. She was watching me and the king with a baffled expression.

'Ah. I was lazy about that earlier and brushed it off...'

If I'd known this was coming, I would have told the truth. This is why you can't tell lies that are going to get found out.

"Nina Cage. Look at me."

The king tapped my cheek lightly. I smiled awkwardly and did as he asked.

His red eyes were still beautiful. A man genuinely terrifyingly handsome.

"Answer me."

"Ah—so, you mean don't die?"

I have no intention of dying in the first place. The hemorrhage was an accident. And look—I'm doing everything I can to extend Nina's life, running around with everything I've got, because even muddy ground is better than the grave. Why would you say something like that? Especially coming from you, the one who killed Nina in the original story. That's almost funny.

What do I say. I wracked my mind frantically. I needed to say something about the accident.

"Your Majesty, that was an accident that just happened."

"It seems dying without meaning to is quite a difficult habit to break."

What does that mean now.

I couldn't follow. Not with my brain. I let out a long breath. What are you doing, Your Majesty. Is this a riddle? If so, give me a hint. My processing power has limits.

'Don't go dying on your own.'

I touched the bandaged edge of my forehead. If not for Nina's particular constitution, I really would have crossed to the other side from that accident.

'Does "don't die" actually prevent death?'

I'd never once wanted to die. Not once in my life. And yet death had faithfully drawn one step closer at a time.

Unbidden, I thought of who I'd been as Lee Hwayun. She'd never really thought about death. Hadn't known it was so close. When the doctors told her the heart was bad enough to need surgery, she'd already started planning which tasks to clear before she came back.

I bowed my head. Between the gaps in the bandage wrapping my forehead, Nina's platinum hair slipped free and fell.

'I didn't want to die. And I died anyway.'

Would you know how badly I wanted to live?