Chapter 11

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“…It worked.”

Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, unable to suppress my excitement.

My feet kicked against the mattress on their own.

Why am I this happy?

It felt even more exhilarating than the time the Emperor filled my room with rare roses for my seventh birthday.

This is only the beginning.

When it came to managing miasma, there was very little I didn’t know.

Food was just one aspect. Regimens, medicinal herbs, rest cycles—I knew them all.

I had spent years buried in the imperial archives, gathering every scrap of knowledge I could to secure the Emperor’s trust.

And now that knowledge was being used like this.

How strange.

The information I collected to strengthen the Emperor was now being used to save the imperial family’s greatest enemy.

If I continue this, in six years he’ll be far better.

Even if Carlos were to lose control of his mana again, if his body could endure it—

He might survive.

That would be enough.

For the first time, I truly believed he could live.

Clutching my pillow, I grinned into the fabric.

He said it wasn’t bad.

The words replayed over and over in my mind.

It wasn’t even praise.

He had only eaten it because he believed it wasn’t poisoned.

So why did it make me so happy?

I rolled beneath the blanket—

“Ugh.”

A sharp pain shot through my arm.

When I lifted it, I saw blood soaking faintly through the bandages.

“…The wrapping wasn’t enough.”

To create the dark purification stones for Carlos, I had reopened the wound after Mia had carefully dressed it.

Normally, it stopped bleeding after a week.

But this time, it was healing slower.

Is it because I’m thirteen again?

In my previous life, I had grown accustomed to bloodletting. My body healed quickly.

This younger body wasn’t as conditioned.

The pain didn’t matter.

But if blood stained through my clothes, it would invite questions.

The apothecary room is in the annex. First floor, I think.

Mia had mentioned it once in passing.

There probably wouldn’t be anyone there.

I’ll apply medicine quietly and come back.

The path to the annex was eerily silent.

You wouldn’t believe anyone lived here.

Even in the main building, I rarely saw servants aside from Mia.

But here—there wasn’t a single presence.

The stone walkway, however, was meticulously maintained.

Following it, I slowed to a stop.

Beyond a wisteria-covered arch stood the annex.

“…This is the annex?”

I had expected something neglected.

Instead, a three-story ivory building gleamed beneath the sun. Its red roof looked freshly painted. The lawn was trimmed neatly.

Why is this place so well-kept?

The main residence feels so bleak.

Slowly, I passed beneath the hanging vines and stepped inside.

“No one’s here…”

Sunlight streamed through tall windows. My footsteps echoed softly across white marble floors.

Then I froze.

“…Where exactly is the apothecary?”

The hallway stretched ahead, lined with identical doors—none labeled.

“…That’s inconvenient.”

Should I ask Mia?

No.

She would ask questions.

Why was I injured? Where did it happen? Why hadn’t I said anything?

She was the only truly warm presence in this quiet estate.

“It can’t be helped.”

I would check room by room.

Most were empty.

A few seemed to be guest chambers or storage rooms.

Then—

“Hm?”

At the very end of the corridor stood a large door painted a soft sky blue.

“What’s that?”

I didn’t know why my feet carried me toward it.

Before I realized it, my hand rested on the doorknob.

It’s not the apothecary.

Why would an apothecary room be painted like this?

And placed at the very end of the hall?

And yet—

I couldn’t let go.

“Just to be sure.”

Even as I made the flimsy excuse to myself, I slowly turned the knob.

A faint scent of clean linen drifted toward me.

Light spilled in through sheer curtains, illuminating drifting dust motes.

When my eyes adjusted—

I froze.

“…What is this…?”

A wide window overlooking the garden.

Soft rugs. Pale chiffon curtains. A delicate hanging mobile.

And in the center—

A small pink bed.

It took only a heartbeat to understand.

This was the missing ducal daughter’s room.

Why is it still here?

Not a single speck of dust.

The bed was sized for a toddler.

A polished rocking horse stood near the window.

Stuffed animals were arranged neatly along the shelves.

This could have been my room.

If I hadn’t been taken.

If I hadn’t been stolen by the Emperor.

I might have grown up here.

Slept in that bed.

Ridden that horse.

Played in the garden outside that window.

A tight ache bloomed beneath my ribs.

It was similar to what I felt in the white rose garden.

What is this?

Sadness?

Emptiness?

Longing?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know how long I stood there.

Eventually, I stepped back as if waking from a dream.

What am I doing?

There was no reason for sentimentality.

It was the past.

Irreversible.

I shut the door quickly and turned to leave—

“What are you doing?”

The sudden voice made my heart drop.