Chapter 155
“—!”
Arzeletta’s light-green eyes widened to their fullest.
The commotion outside the fence grew louder and louder. Shouts and exclamations were heard from all over.
“He collapsed on his way out of the great temple!”
“Everyone there saw it, they say.”
“They say he suddenly coughed up blood!”
“There’s still a bloodstain in front of the great temple. Let’s go see it.”
“Oh, Impellias.”
She felt as if her body was tilting as she sat. She was dizzy.
Yoseph put more pressure on the hand that covered the back of her hand.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“……”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
Arzeletta looked back at the man holding onto her, her face drained of color.
“Anyone who saw it would think it was a carriage accident. The bloodstain was enormous.”
“What in the world is going on?”
Yoseph’s desperate voice and the commotion outside the fence mingled together. She felt suffocated.
“Whatever they say, it has nothing to do with us, Arzeletta.”
“……”
“No matter who becomes the Lord, our lives will be the same. So…”
Yoseph’s voice became more and more distant. Arzeletta felt her consciousness fading due to the ringing in her head.
‘Save me, Arzeletta. Kill him.’
“Arzeletta…!”
Arzeletta tilted backward from the backless chair. Yoseph’s hands quickly caught her collapsing body.
“I must take you as my bride.”
Before losing consciousness, the last thing Arzeletta recalled was the unwavering violet eyes he had when he said those words.
The black marble and black walls of Ragnar’s bedchamber made it feel cool even in the middle of the day due to its gloom.
Lying in the center of the large bed was the owner of this domain and the great Holy Knight, Ragnar von Rosenburg.
The five priests who had been surrounding his large bed turned away, looking exhausted.
They were the priests with the highest healing power in the great temple. They looked as if they would collapse at any moment, having just poured out their divine power, but the strictly trained priests of Impellias did not lose their upright posture.
Outside Ragnar’s bedchamber. The only one standing unshaken among the people who were restlessly sobbing and praying was Theogrim.
It was a measure to protect the successor in case Ragnar had fallen ill with a contagious disease.
Theogrim’s neat face was pale. As if he had received a truly great shock, his straight and beautiful face was filled with a tension that was not normally seen.
Through the crack of the door that the priests had opened to leave, Theogrim, who had confirmed Ragnar’s pale face lying in the center of the huge bed, stumbled. He placed a hand on the console next to the door and barely managed to steady himself again.
He bit the inside of his lip to avoid showing his weakness. In spite of his efforts, no one failed to realize that Theogrim was in deep sorrow at this moment.
No matter what anyone said, it was Ragnar who had raised Theogrim, an orphan who had been wandering the streets, to the position of a noble Impellias’s successor.
The two of them, standing side by side, created a beautiful sight as if they were a real family. They didn’t say much, but they trusted each other deeply.
Theogrim, who was so perfect that no one could tell what he was thinking, would only show a slight emotional wavering when he faced Ragnar. Ragnar’s eyes, which maintained a poker face without wavering for even a single moment, would also take on a strange light only when they were directed at Theogrim.
Perhaps the parties themselves were unaware, but it was a human exchange and trust that everyone around them knew about. Ragnar gave Theogrim everything he could, and Theogrim achieved all of Ragnar’s expectations and more. In no matter how harsh a study or test, Theogrim never showed a single word of weakness.
Those times must have been made possible only by a belief in each other that was stronger than blood.
Such a Ragnar had collapsed. It was too sudden. Until he collapsed, he had been stronger and healthier than at any other time. He was truly at the peak of his youth.
No one in this domain had ever imagined the absence of such a young and strong Lord for even a single moment.
“How… is the Lord?”
Theogrim, conscious of the eyes watching him, straightened his back again. His face, pale from shock, looked purer and more holy than usual.
“The coughing up of blood has stopped for now. But…”
The priests exchanged glances with dark eyes. At their hesitation, Theogrim lifted his chin.
“Tell me without hiding anything. What is the Lord’s condition?”
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