Chapter 28
“My daughter’s marriage will be blocked, Marquis,” someone said.
“What do you mean by that?”
Cassian raised his eyebrows in annoyance.
“Are you saying, right in front of me, that you’re considering other marriage options besides me?”
The Marquis waved his hands awkwardly in the air, realizing his mistake.
“Oh… you really were thinking that way?”
“Damia, be quiet!”
“Are you shouting at your daughter, who just barely returned alive? My heart still trembles when I hear loud voices.”
“No, I’m only worried about you,” the Marquis said, glancing nervously at Cassian instead of Damia.
Cassian sighed and brushed back his black hair.
“Don’t worry. Damia will be taken care of by the House of Sarkis for her whole life.”
He stopped looking at the Marquis and looked directly at Damia.
“No matter what happens, my feelings won’t change.”
Even if Cassian Sarkis, who has limited time to live, dies early as expected, or if no romantic feelings ever grow between them, his words still carried weight.
Cassian insisted on staying one night at the Marquis Ponti’s house before taking Damia to the Sarkis residence in the morning.
“Are you really going to sleep here?” Damia asked, leading him to the guest room, still doubtful.
The bed was old and creaky, the bedding thin and flat, and the furniture and lights worn out.
Damia expected Cassian to refuse and planned to smile secretly when he did.
“Yeah,” Cassian said calmly, showing no intention of changing his mind.
“Have you ever slept in such a worn-out room?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he said arrogantly, as if it was obvious.
“Are you worried about me? You could leave a few bodyguards behind,” Damia suggested.
“That won’t make me feel safe,” Cassian said.
Damia bit her lip.
“Cassian, what if I really misunderstand you?”
“You’ll be the one hurt anyway. Watch your heart carefully,” he replied.
“Maybe you should think about your own heart, too,” Damia said.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you treating me so well?”
Cassian’s red eyes wavered slightly.
It was naturally because of Damia’s strange abilities, and the medicine she always provided helped too.
“Well… that’s because…” Cassian stopped mid-sentence, unable to say what he truly thought.
Damia tilted her head in curiosity.
“You’re too young to understand,” he finally said.
“Eh?”
After a long silence, his strange answer surprised her.
“Go out now,” he said, sitting on the small chair in the room.
“But I just got my answer,” Damia said.
“No. Children like you must sleep early,” he said firmly.
“I don’t understand…”
“I have things to finish as an adult, unlike you. So go now,” Cassian said, even pulling out a quill as if he really had work.
Damia pursed her lips.
“You were about to say something mean again, weren’t you?”
“No. What do you think I am?” he asked.
“Think carefully. You keep telling me to understand my place,” Damia said.
“I never said that. I just told you not to have false expectations,” Cassian answered firmly.
“Then why shouldn’t I hope?”
Her purple eyes seemed to see right through him. His heart thumped strangely.
“Because… I don’t have much time left,” Cassian said, unconsciously revealing the truth.
His usually confident voice trembled.
A sudden silence filled the room. Cassian regretted being too honest. He couldn’t look Damia in the eyes.
Just then, someone called, “Miss Damia! I’m here!”
“Oh? Romi must be looking for me,” she said and hurried out.
Cassian, left alone, felt a strange unease and watched the door, clenching his fists.
“Can this even be called a noble house?”
After Damia left, Cassian looked around the worn guest room.
The Ponti family had some wealth from herbal medicine but had fallen from its former glory.
He remembered the Marquis, who slept while his daughter was kidnapped and even defended the kidnapper.
No wonder the family had fallen so far.
Cassian clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to harshly criticize the Marquis, even though he had tried to marry his sickly daughter to someone much older.
He ran his fingers through his black hair, thinking about Damia. She had made his thoughts very complicated.
‘The curse of the dragon… I gave up on it long ago,’ he thought.
He didn’t know how long he had to live but wanted to devote himself to his house until the end.
He had been busy choosing the next Duke carefully, removing incompetent relatives, and ensuring his mother would be comfortable without him.
That’s why he had hidden the truth about his limited time to live.
‘It was simpler when I only had to think about that,’ he admitted.
Now, with hope to live and Damia constantly on his mind, everything became complicated.
He groaned, messed up his hair, and went to the bed.
“Uncomfortable,” he muttered. The bed was old, creaky, and the bedding too thin.
‘I really need to take her to the Duke’s house soon,’ he thought.
He couldn’t stop looking at Damia, feeling responsible for her.
But he knew it was dangerous—he might end up wanting to care for her forever, even though he didn’t know how long he would live.
He sat up suddenly, realizing his thoughts were ridiculous.
He kept his distance from Damia not just because he was dying, but because he could never return her feelings.
He had never been interested in girls his age before, and Damia was even younger. She was cute, but… no, that wasn’t it!
He buried his face in the pillow, and the bed creaked loudly as he moved.
This version keeps the story clear, straightforward, and easy to read while keeping the main events and emotions intact.
If you want, I can also make a shorter, ultra-basic version of this chapter that’s even easier for casual reading. Do you want me to do that?
