Chapter 10
Lucy sat beside him and asked in a worried voice.
Bartholomew didn’t respond.
He was too busy clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.
Soon, he coughed and spat out blood.
Seeing the seriousness of the situation, Lucy’s expression grew grave.
“Master Bartholomew?”
She called his name again, but still, there was no response.
It was as if her voice couldn’t reach him.
‘Has he had a seizure?’
Lucy reached out her hand to him.
The moment her hand touched his shoulder, Bartholomew flinched and shivered.
“Don’t touch me!”
Bartholomew snapped irritably, grabbing her hand.
It seemed he had no time to be polite to a princess.
“Ugh.”
Lucy let out a low moan at the strength of his grip.
She tried to pull her hand back, but it was impossible; he held it too tightly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
‘He’s not trying to push me away.’
She looked at the hand gripping hers.
It trembled slightly.
‘It seems like he’s holding my hand because he has nothing else to rely on.’
Lucy stopped trying to free her hand.
Instead, she twisted her wrist to firmly hold his hand and asked,
“Do you have any medicine?”
“…….”
“There should be emergency medicine for situations like this, right?”
Bartholomew let out a deep, ragged breath.
He fumbled at his chest pocket with his free hand.
Watching him struggle, Lucy reached in.
She felt something inside and pulled out a small vial-shaped bottle.
Opening it required two hands, but one of her hands was still holding Bartholomew’s.
“I’ll open the lid, so hold the bottle.”
She held it in front of his eyes.
Bartholomew blinked slowly as he struggled to breathe.
With his trembling hand on the bottle, Lucy quickly twisted the lid open.
Tilting it into his palm, a small pill fell out.
Its unique scent made Lucy frown slightly.
Before she could even think about what it was, Bartholomew popped it into his mouth.
‘He looks even worse than when I saw him in front of the temple.’
Lucy watched him silently, feeling a pang of worry.
Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead.
Hair disheveled, eyelashes trembling as he looked downward.
At that moment—
Ding!
[A new skill has been unlocked!]
[“Aesthete” Skill Awakened!]
Suddenly?
Lucy stared at the system window, dumbfounded.
‘And it’s Aesthete… did I even have this skill?’
Judging by the name, it seemed useless.
[You have admired the face of the most handsome man since starting the game.
By doing so, something inside you awakens.]
[Beauty, whether in nature, people, or objects, brings joy. Realizing this truth, you awaken as an “Aesthete.”]
[Aesthete Lv.1: “Starting With a Fool”]
[New stat added.]
[Fangirl Power: 10]
Sadly, Lucy’s expectations were correct.
The first skill she gained was one she didn’t even want.
And what was this “Fangirl Power” even for?
Moreover, she had gained this skill while watching Bartholomew in such pain, which made her feel a twinge of guilt.
While Lucy was flustered, Bartholomew gradually regained his senses after taking the medicine.
He noticed her hand still holding his and tried to pull it away.
But Lucy didn’t let go.
“Hold on until you’re fully calm.”
“No need—”
“Don’t argue.”
Lucy’s lips curved faintly.
“When I was very sick…”
She recalled her past life.
When she had a high fever from a cold, her mother had held her hand through the night while nursing her.
“Just having someone hold your hand made the pain feel less.”
Even when barely conscious, seeing her mother gave her comfort.
Having someone nearby who cared was a huge relief.
Listening quietly, Bartholomew spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
“I… am truly fine now.”
He tried to pull his hand away again, and Lucy let go.
He seemed much calmer now.
Bartholomew stared at the hand that had been holding hers and clenched it into a fist.
“Shall I call someone?”
Lucy shook her head.
Seeing him stubbornly keeping silent, she took out a handkerchief.
She offered it to him, but he just stared at it, confused.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Lucy carefully reached out and wiped the blood from his mouth.
Bartholomew flinched again, realizing the mess he had caused.
“That’s enough.”
He spoke shortly, avoiding her touch.
He looked at the blood-stained sleeve and then at her hand, seeing red marks on her fair, delicate skin.
It was from him holding on too tightly.
“…That much?”
Bartholomew slowly spoke.
“Do you need my help?”
Lucy’s eyes widened.
“There must be many others who can help you.”
Bartholomew didn’t name anyone, but she thought of Cecil, who had carried her earlier.
He had gone out for a garden walk and coincidentally seen Lucy digging despite the servants’ protests.
She had found something and handed it to Cecil, smiling innocently.
Seeing her suddenly faint, he had flinched instinctively.
But before he could act, Cecil had gently carried her.
Bartholomew realized there were plenty of people wanting to help her—he didn’t need to interfere.
“No, there’s no one.”
Lucy’s calm reply left Bartholomew momentarily speechless.
“Even if there were, I wouldn’t need them.”
She shook her head firmly.
“The only person I need is you, Master Bartholomew.”
“….”
“If it’s not you, it doesn’t matter.”
Bartholomew slowly lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
He looked her over cautiously, and Lucy didn’t avert her gaze.
After a long, silent moment, they spoke simultaneously.
“What kind of help do you need?”
“You’re really… handsome.”
“…….”
“…?”
Lucy blinked in disbelief at her own words.
To say he was handsome at a time like this?
‘Well, he is handsome, but…’
This was not the moment for such nonsense—ugh.
Lucy quickly checked her status window.
Next to her name, [Aesthete Lv.1 “Starting With a Fool”] blinked pink.
‘So this skill triggered, making me act like a fangirl?’
She groaned inwardly.
Looking at Bartholomew, who had just regained color, now pale again, she panicked.
He subtly leaned back.
“Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”
Bartholomew rose as if escaping from her, and Lucy hurriedly grabbed his sleeve.
“You already heard it! How can I pretend I didn’t?”
“….”
“You must take responsibility for your words! That’s what a gentleman does, right?”
“Let’s sit down and talk while letting go of my sleeve.”
“…If I let go, you’ll run off.”
Caught, Bartholomew sat down.
Still cautious, Lucy didn’t release his sleeve.
Glancing to the side, he noticed how close her face had gotten, her earnest eyes fixed on him so intensely it was almost overwhelming.
He avoided her gaze, running a hand through his messy hair.
“What exactly do you want to ask of me?”
Lucy’s face lit up.
Before she could speak, Bartholomew interrupted.
“I will not attend the royal banquet.”
“What? Why?”
He kept his answer to himself.
Lucy tilted her head in thought, then smiled knowingly.
“You avoided the banquet because you were afraid of having another episode like this, didn’t you? Don’t worry this time. I’ll hold your hand again, just like now.”
“…Is that something to say?”
The thought of him showing this to other nobles gave him a headache just imagining it.
But Lucy had no idea why he was so averse.
“What do you want to do at the royal banquet?”
“Of course…”
Lucy beamed brightly.
“I want you, Master Bartholomew, to be my dance partner.”
