Chapter 87 : Side Story (Episode 7)

The inside of Felbiche Palace was in chaos.

Just this morning, everyone had been calmly staying in their places, but now they were restlessly moving about the palace.

Among them was even the doctor that a maid had been searching for earlier.

Yet all of them were merely circling about, screaming silent screams.

It was a strange sight, but Riorem didn’t dwell on it.

Instead, he headed straight to his master’s room.

Lately, she hadn’t left that room at all, so he assumed she would be inside again today.

As expected, the master was in her room.

Unlike the anxious maids, she sat calmly on the sofa.

Seeing her upright posture, Riorem immediately lowered himself.

There was the smell of blood somewhere.

But as he crawled on his knees toward the open room, he couldn’t see any blood.

‘Is it because it’s so dark?’

Despite the bright late spring weather outside, the room was dim.

All the windows were covered with long, thick curtains layered in two.

This was another of the Grand Duke Peroa’s arrangements to preserve the master’s pale skin.

Riorem couldn’t even bring himself to enter the room.

He simply bowed deeply at the door.

And even that might not be enough—for a slave to leave his station without being summoned.

At that moment, a maid standing beside the master noticed him and rushed to the door.

It was a familiar face.

She didn’t quite fit the harsh atmosphere of this palace, being soft-hearted—she had even shared bread with Riorem before.

The maid dropped to her knees and asked the bowing Riorem,

“You… You said you could use healing magic, right?”

Instead of answering, Riorem quietly nodded.

He had just returned from treating the wounded, after all.

The maid let out a sigh of relief, her face visibly relaxing.

She then rushed back to her mistress and whispered softly beside her,

“Milady, how about Riorem? If you don’t like the doctor, why not ask Riorem instead?”

Her voice was gentle and tender, but it trembled badly— like she was desperately holding back tears.

Yet the master replied with her usual warm tone,

“Oh, Riorem is here.”

Riorem pressed his forehead tightly to the ground.

Fortunately, she didn’t sound angry.

The master asked him in a low voice,

“Do you use herbs and such?”

“…Yes. I’m also capable of some simple treatments.”

“So you’re not as skilled as a proper doctor.”

Riorem didn’t reply.

There was a hint of anticipation in her voice, for some reason.

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

“Well, if I end up not being able to walk, that would be a loss for me too.”

At that, the maid brightened.

She guided Riorem to his master’s feet.

It was then that he realized where the smell of blood had come from.

Riorem’s blue eyes looked up at his master without permission.

She was staring down at him as always, her boredom barely hidden even behind a smile.

She didn’t look like someone whose feet had been shredded by pieces of a teacup.

“This…”

“It’s because the room was dark,”

She answered calmly.

“I didn’t see it and stepped on it. I was practicing dancing.”

Riorem nodded.

He swallowed every question—

Why she practiced barefoot,

Or whether the room could really be so dark that she didn’t see a shattered teacup on the floor.

He simply took the tools the maids handed him and began treating her feet.

Everything provided was unfamiliar to Riorem.

The healing techniques taught to temple slaves were meant to handle laborious, tedious work in place of priests.

He had never used such fine cotton or expensive herbs.

So the tweezers kept slipping from his hands,

And the cotton soaked in disinfectant wouldn’t stay in place and kept falling.

The treatment was slow and difficult.

Maybe it was also because he couldn’t disobey the Grand Duke’s orders and open the curtains—so he had to work under candlelight.

Even so, Riorem desperately treated his master’s feet.

Throughout the process, she didn’t change expression once.

She simply observed him with her usual poise,

As if the shards digging into her flesh and the tweezers scraping her skin didn’t bother her at all.

Only after quite some time did Riorem finally wrap her feet in bandages.

Perhaps because he had spent years carefully washing those feet,

Even in the dark, he managed to wrap them perfectly without hesitation.

When it was all over, and he bowed his head once more,

His master’s hand brushed against his forehead.

Startled, Riorem involuntarily looked up.

Golden eyes stared quietly into his surprised face.

“You’re covered in sweat, Riorem.”

He swallowed dryly, unconsciously.

As the master said, Riorem was soaked in sweat from head to toe.

He had poured every ounce of energy into making sure not a single scar remained on those beautiful feet.

The master glanced at the maids, who quietly stepped out of the room.

Normally, no matter how much a slave, it would be unheard of to leave a male slave alone with a noble lady and for the maids to leave the room.

But their master was not in her right mind, and this slave was quite favored by her.

Probably, there would be no need to clean up any corpse.

Thinking this, the maids lightly vacated the room.

Only Riorem was left, unsure whether he should bow his head or keep feeling the master’s hand as it was.

White fingers touched the black hair stuck to his forehead.

Enjoying the sensation for a while, the master suddenly spoke.

“How long do you think it will take to heal?”

“It will take about a week for the scabs to form. After that, for about ten days, there will be oozing.”

“I see.”

The master whispered softly.

“Then at least for fifteen days, you won’t have to dance.”

Riorem clenched his teeth.

Somehow, he now understood why the master had dismissed the doctor the maid had called and chose to be treated by him instead.

“…You probably won’t be able to wear shoes for about a month.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I’m not a doctor, after all.”

The father who locked him in this dark room to sell him at the highest price.

The numerous suitors who came to bargain his price with that father.

The master was not a kind person who would smile between them.

He was just smart enough to realize that getting angry was meaningless.

‘…Lacking humanity to the point of not sparing any means to achieve the goal.’

Even if the master was hurt, the ball would not be canceled.

But since she had injured her feet and couldn’t dance, she would spend the ball sitting and entertaining suitors.

She probably thought it would be more comfortable to sit than stand while talking to the many visitors who came more than usual.

And as a bonus, she wouldn’t have to dance pressed close with men who revealed their desires toward her.

When Riorem had thought all the way to this point, he dared to speak first to the master.

“…I’m not a doctor, but I know how to use herbs. I can help so that the scar won’t show.”

At those words, the master burst into laughter.

“It will still take a month for the wound to heal?”

“Yes. Probably.”

“You’ve been quite helpful to me these days.”

The master smiled.

Her golden eyes looked down at the most beautiful and most unholy man among her slaves.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she whispered softly.

“Oh, right. I should tell you this.”

Her fingers gently tousled Riorem’s hair.

“Riorem.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“If the palace catches fire, don’t try to put it out — run away.”

The master smiled softly.

“Every time the ball is held, I think about burning down this castle.”

Riorem couldn’t say a word and looked up at his master.

She was still stroking his hair; her hand hadn’t withdrawn, nor had she ordered him to bow.

So, at that moment, Riorem was able to clearly see the expression on his master’s face.

“Until now, I only vaguely imagined the outcome… but I’m starting to think about the method.”

“So, if the palace catches fire, run away immediately.”

Her red lips curved softly.

At that gentle curve, Riorem couldn’t help but ask.

“…What if someone else does it instead?”

“Hm?”

“If someone else burns down this castle for you… what would you do?”

The master pondered for a moment.

But as always, her worry wasn’t long.

“Well… if someone did that, it would mean giving me something more precious than a dowry.”

The woman who was probably the most beautiful in Riorem’s life, and likely would remain so, smiled gently.

“In that case, it would be right to follow that person, not the suitor who paid the highest price. By then, the father who set my price would have burned away.”

At those words, Riorem unconsciously parted his lips.

His throat tightened.

Whenever the master said such unreasonable things, Riorem felt as if his breath was caught.

That suffocation sometimes squeezed his heart, sometimes accumulated somewhere deep inside.

It was truly rare for a slave.

Usually, such desires wither and die before they can even take root.

But instead of killing the slave, the master made him sow those seeds upon his own feet.

Perhaps because of that, the heart that should have rotted and disappeared kept changing its form.

From vague to concrete, from small to large.

Maybe because of that, Riorem wished for another twist to his life, which had been full of changes unbefitting a slave.

He didn’t exactly know what he hoped for or wanted.

He just wished that the seed, which his master had wildly sprouted recklessly, would eventually bear fruit.

With that thought, he gently took his master’s hand.