SMR 106

~Chapter 106~

Edgar smoothly caught the object, walked over to Cedric, and set it back down in its place on the desk.

Cedric calmly loosened his tie and asked,

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Why are you here?”

“I just couldn’t figure out what happened earlier, not with the information I’ve gathered on you so far. And as the head of Cloud, I thought it was something I should confirm.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cedric tried to act clueless as he took off his coat, but then his hand brushed against something cold, and he froze. It was his father’s keepsake, pinned to the coat collar.

Edgar smiled knowingly.

“Told you, didn’t I? That you’d get it back.”

“……”

“Hope it didn’t crack. Some lunatic threw it around pretty carelessly.”

Cedric glared at him again, but since Edgar was enjoying himself so much, it had no effect.

“To be honest, I knew things would turn out like this since the Count of Laurel’s party. You should’ve paid more attention to Miss Harriet.”

“Shut up.”

“And do you even realize how much you owe her? She not only saved you from being humiliated but even tracked down your late father’s keepsake for you!”

Cedric gave up on arguing, took off the brooch, and placed it in the drawer. Sitting safely there, it looked as though it had never left in the first place.

Edgar, meanwhile, just kept running his mouth.

“She really is a fine young lady. She may not have parents, but her guardian, Countess Pellon, is a highly respectable woman. She’s done well for herself financially, too—though your investments certainly helped. Oh! And she’s got land in Perillas, doesn’t she?”

“Edgar, please.”

“And she’s rather good-looking, too. It’s just that she’s always mentioned alongside Daphne or Bella, so people don’t notice as much. But on her own? She’s quite pretty.”

“Even compared to them, she’s still beautiful.”

“What? Hah! Hahaha!”

Edgar burst into laughter. He never expected such openly affectionate words to come out of his cold-blooded friend’s mouth.

At the same time, though, he began to feel worried for Harriet. He wasn’t joking—he truly thought she was a good person.

“Phew, that laugh nearly made me cry. But still, you won’t be able to stay with her long, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you can’t marry her. She’s at an age where she’ll have to marry within the next year or two.”

“So what?”

“So don’t string her along. If she spends all her youth with you and ends up unmarried, it’ll be hard for her to find another match later.”

Edgar believed Cedric would eventually marry someone of suitable status, as all his information suggested. And he added Harriet’s marriage prospects into the argument because he didn’t want Cedric to make her his mistress. That would be far too cruel.

Cedric took a velvet cloth, carefully wiped the ink bottle Edgar had handled, and set it back neatly on the desk. Then, after a pause, he answered.

“It’s too early to talk like that. Nothing’s happened between us yet.”

“That’s true.”

“And Harriet won’t accept me so easily anyway. She’ll be thinking the same things you are.”

“You’re right. She’s bold, but she doesn’t seem like the type to fall into illusions easily.”

“Exactly…”

Exactly—he would have to be patient, careful, and gentle. He would lay the trap, ease away her suspicions, and wait. One day, when she finally realized, she would already be in his grasp—safe and sound in the comfortable chambers of House Kailas.

“Cedric? Why so quiet?”

Edgar asked, and Cedric gave a short laugh.

“I never knew following my heart could be this entertaining. Should’ve tried it sooner.”

“…Is it just me, or do you look kind of scary right now?”

Edgar felt a chill at Cedric’s bright smile. In all the years he’d known him, he had never seen Cedric look so delighted.

***

“Hmm…”

The doctor examining Trisha set down his stethoscope with an uneasy smile.

That expression never meant good news. Roxana and Harriet tensed immediately.

Sure enough, he gave a small shake of his head and spoke.

“It seems her body has developed a tolerance. The medicine isn’t working well anymore. The illness hasn’t slowed, and the pain relief isn’t as effective as before…”

Roxana sighed softly, and Harriet gave Trisha a worried look.

But Trisha herself looked completely unfazed.

“Why the long faces? Everyone leaves this world eventually.”

“You’re still young, Grandma.”

“Listen to you—making jokes. Since when is a wrinkled old woman young?”

She playfully waved her hand to silence Harriet, then turned to the doctor.

“So, Sir Atworth. How much time do I have left?”

“If you stay at a good resort, with hot springs and rest, it would help you greatly.”

“And how much longer would that buy me? Don’t hold back. I’m not asking out of fear—I just need to know how much time I have to set things in order.”

The doctor hesitated, then said in a low, unsure voice,

“A year at the shortest… with good care, perhaps up to three years.”

The word “year” hit like a thunderbolt. Roxana gasped sharply, and Harriet covered her mouth with her hand. They had been told not long ago she could easily live another ten years, so this was a huge shock.

But Trisha remained calm as ever.

“Roxy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Let’s start putting things in order. Find me a trustworthy lawyer and a legal witness.”

“…Yes.”

Roxana reluctantly agreed.

After the check-up, Trisha lay back to rest, while the doctor, Roxana, and Harriet left her room, speaking in hushed, heavy tones.

“Is there no other painkiller? If we can’t slow the disease, then at least reducing her coughing or chest pain would help.”

“I’ve been looking. There are a few promising new medicines, but they’re still under review by the Imperial Health Office. Please wait a little longer.”

“I see. Please keep checking; I’d be grateful.”

“And the advice about hot springs isn’t just words. The waters in Ainsfora or Kercesa would be especially beneficial. Please do your best to persuade her.”

His sincerity showed, and Roxana thanked him repeatedly. Doctor Jasper Atworth tipped his hat politely and left Pellon Manor.

The road from the manor gate to the main street was a bit long, but he always refused their offer of a carriage. He knew walking was healthier.

Still, his expression wasn’t bright. Trisha’s worsening illness pained him—she had been his patient for many years.

“If only the new medicine were approved soon… At least I should get her some cough syrup.”

As he walked, he pulled out his pocket watch—just as a carriage came hurtling by, nearly attacking him.

“Goodness!”

He stumbled and fell to the ground, his doctor’s bag and hat flying off.

The horses neighed loudly as the carriage screeched to a halt, and a man jumped down.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“You can’t just drive like that when people are on the road!” Jasper snapped, shaken.

“I’m so sorry. If you’re hurt, let me take you to a hospital at once!”

The man looked so genuinely concerned that Jasper’s anger softened.

“I’m a doctor myself. I just bruised my knee a little—nothing serious. But you should tell your coachman to be more careful.”

“Of course. If you won’t go to the hospital, then at least let me cover the cost of treatment or repairing your clothes—”

“That won’t be necessary. Ah—my bag…”

Just then, the woman who had stepped down from the carriage handed him his bag and hat.

“I’m terribly sorry. Please, allow us to drive you home.”

“No need. I’ve somewhere to stop by anyway.”

Jasper dusted off his clothes, put his hat back on, and picked up his bag.

It felt oddly lighter than usual, but he didn’t notice.

Only when he reached the pharmacy did he realize—his bag had been switched.