GLBB 14

Chapter – 14

“No! Your Highness, you mustn’t drink that!”

Gulp, gulp, gulp—before she could stop him, Rona found herself watching as Ireon emptied the cup in a single go. He took the cup from her hands and set it down on the floor. His hand moved from Rona’s hand to her arm, up to her shoulder, and finally touched her face. With gentle precision, he wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry.”

“B-but… what if you drink that?”

“Wasn’t it meant for me?”

Rona broke down, sobbing openly.

“I-I think I made it wrong… I knew someone who could make it properly, but they said they couldn’t help. So I tried it myself…”

Overwhelmed with sorrow, Rona’s chest tightened. Ireon moved his fingers across her cheek, collecting the tears one by one.

“It’s alright. You brought it for me, didn’t you? That alone is enough to make me try it.”

“But still…”

“Just the thought that you cared about me is more than enough.”

Ireon smiled, a light, genuine smile, and Rona’s heart felt like it was breaking all the more.

“I’ll find something better next time.”

Wiping her tears, she spoke resolutely.

“There must be something out there.”

Ireon nodded, understanding the unstated subject.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

For a moment, it seemed the matter of the medicinal tea had come to a quiet close.

At the Imperial Palace, Saviel was sipping a drink.

“That Ireon… what is he thinking?”

He slammed his glass down roughly, spilling some of the strong liquor. Crown Prince Saviel Oder Constance—a man who didn’t live up to his reputation. The Constance Empire had a long and proud history. Among its founding stories was that of the first emperor, Oder, who was said to have ascended to the divine throne upon death. A grand funeral was held, as befitted the founder. But a year later, on the anniversary of the funeral, a divine message reportedly came from the emperor. Emperor Oder had indeed become a god, as he had said in life. When his tomb was later visited, his body was gone. Every year on the day he ascended to godhood, rain fell, believed to be a message from the beloved emperor.

Emperor Oder left a prophecy: every generation of the imperial family would see a child born resembling him. Astonishingly, among his descendants, each generation produced a boy with black hair and red eyes. These children also displayed the latent talent of a swordmaster. Even after two thousand years, no rebellion or struggle for the throne had ever occurred—the message of divine lineage held the empire in order. The child with black hair and red eyes, being unique, inherited the throne regardless of birth order.

But Saviel was not the chosen one. Lev Oder Constance, a princess, inherited the traits—black hair and red eyes. When she bore a child three years younger than Saviel, young Saviel felt his world shatter.

“Such a thing…?”

“It’s the first time a ‘Oder’ was born in a collateral branch,” someone explained.

“Then what happens to our Crown Prince?”

He was too young to fully understand, but he sensed it would not be good. His father, the emperor, looked colder than ever. His mother, the empress, never stopped crying. Saviel admired his own blue eyes in the mirror—the color of the sky, so rare and precious. But for the ‘Oder,’ that color was forbidden. Though it wasn’t his fault—he was simply born this way—he was treated like a defect. As rumors spread, he grew resentful. He befriended a new class of nobles who valued science over faith and looked down on the old aristocracy.

The old nobles petitioned the emperor to adopt Ireon, the undefeated hero and Knight Commander, and bestow the name ‘Oder’ upon him. Saviel despised those who didn’t recognize his nobility. He was the rightful heir, the official crown prince. In the end, they sought to use Ireon as a lifeline to interfere with him. Ireon’s blindness was caused not by poison, but by a curse, a form of dark sorcery. The antidote rested only in Saviel’s hands, meaning Ireon would remain in darkness forever. Saviel took satisfaction in this. Reports that the ‘blind beast’ Ireon was suffering and despairing delighted him.

Yet now, a troubling feeling crept in. Ireon, whom Saviel had trapped in misery, seemed to rise again, smiling peacefully while surrounded by daylight and dressed in fabrics Rona had chosen.

He looked… happy. He looked content. And Saviel, who had never felt such happiness or satisfaction himself, seethed.

“I should’ve seen that woman’s face,” he muttered.

The once-proud Ireon, blinded and now entangled with a lowly girl, would be the perfect scandal. Saviel called his aide.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I hear Ireon Clavente has a woman with him.”

The aide’s eyes widened. Ireon had long been untouchable, especially among noble ladies—the “unconquerable fortress” of the capital.

“Investigate. What kind of woman is she? Which family does she belong to? Or perhaps she’s common-born.”

“Yes, sir.”

Saviel picked up his glass again, recalling Ireon’s smiling face—it made him physically ill with jealousy. That night, no amount of drink could dull his envy.

The unexpected event occurred late that night.

“Ahhh!”

Ireon’s anguished scream woke everyone in the estate. Rona ran first to his room, and what she saw was horrifying: Ireon writhing in pain, blood smeared around his eyes, leaving bright red marks on the pristine white bed linens and pillows.

“Ahh! His eyes!”

He seemed unable to bear even a moment, clawing at his own face. Rona could barely process it. House staff and attendants stepped forward.

“Step aside, Miss Rona.”

They reassured her and moved with practiced precision.

“There should be some remaining cloth. Bring it.”

Berner, calm and collected, tried to give Ireon a sedative. But the strength difference was too great, and Ireon bit down fiercely on the arm holding him. Blood seeped through the staff’s white sleeve and dripped to the floor.

When the others returned with the cloth, they bound Ireon’s limbs to the bed. It was a brutal scene. Rona covered her mouth, tears streaming. The staff’s precise and coordinated movements suggested they had done this countless times.

The staff rolled a clean towel into Ireon’s mouth.

“Ugh, ughh!”

Every convulsion shook the bedframe. The staff tore the remaining white cloth into strips to staunch the blood from his bitten arm, then called Rona aside.

“Let’s talk for a moment, Miss Rona.”

There was much to manage in the ducal estate. Young and inexperienced, Berner had taken charge of household affairs. Rona sat in the office, staring blankly at a teacup.

“You must be shocked.”

“…Yes.”

Berner’s usual calmness had vanished; his own face looked pale, and the arm he had bitten while restraining Ireon had only recently stopped bleeding.

“This happens quite often,” he said quietly.

“Quite often? I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I mean before you came to the estate. Long before that.”

Berner’s eyes reddened as he recalled the past.

“The Duke often experienced excruciating pain whenever his eyes were treated.”

Rona’s eyes widened.

“Excruciating pain?”

Berner nodded solemnly.

“When he returned from his last battle with injured eyes, he didn’t lash out immediately. A man of true knightly spirit, he agonized that he had tarnished the glory he had won for the empire. He tried every remedy, every medicine, every method to heal his eyes. And that’s when this… symptom began.”

“Pain as if his eyes are being eaten from the inside. Sometimes he said it felt like his eyes were being burned with fire,” Berner said.

The torment struck Ireon day after day. Yet he never gave up seeking a cure. Even when the last methods failed, he endured, hoping for relief. But the calm he longed for never came.

“Watching His Highness in such agony, wanting to tear out his own eyes just to end the pain… it’s unbearable,” Berner said.

Each day was a test of hope. Would this remedy work? Would that method succeed? One more trial, just once more… the staff’s eyes would well with tears, so devoted were they to their master. Rona’s heart ached as she witnessed it.

“Ask the butler. He should have records of the remedies used. If there’s anything Ireon hasn’t tried yet, we should give it a chance.”

Rona remembered Ireon’s words emphasizing “something not yet tried.” She understood why he had insisted on trying only new remedies: repeating something that caused such pain was unthinkable.

“Don’t expect too much. But if you brought it, I’ll drink it,” Ireon had said.

He endured that much agony just to trust her blindly.

“Then what exactly is this medicine you gave His Highness?”