Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 13

The former King of Lutea, Randellus—father of Declan and Aidan—passed away from illness when Declan was just seventeen.

For several years before his death, he had suffered from a chronic skin disease, wasting away slowly, like a tree withering over time. Because of that, the news of his sudden passing was not all that shocking.

Queen Iopha, the former King’s consort and their loving mother, followed soon after, as if unable to bear life without her husband. Within the same year, she too passed away. The brothers’ parents were laid to rest side by side in the royal mausoleum.

Now, with only Aidan left beside him, Declan felt an even deeper affection for his brother. The realization that they were truly the only ones left of their bloodline hit him, and he clung to Aidan, sobbing like a child.

At some point, however, Aidan began to distance himself from Declan. Declan knew it was because of the throne. Even after he had already inherited the crown, Aidan still kept a certain distance from him.

Declan found that bitterly unfair. It wasn’t his fault that his brother had been born smaller and weaker than he was, nor that fewer people supported Aidan. To him, Aidan’s jealousy and avoidance seemed nothing short of foolish.

He had no idea what kind of deep-seated resentment Aidan truly held toward him, nor did he have any intention of probing into it.

In the end, Declan believed, Aidan would come to realize that his only true ally was his younger brother. He would apologize for the misunderstanding and say he was sorry for everything. Declan could wait for that much. Surely, it wasn’t too much to expect.

In time, they would resolve their misunderstanding and love each other again. Just as everyone eventually did.

When Declan blinked, he found himself watching as Aidan cried and apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, Declan. I’m sorry for believing what others said and keeping my distance. I’m sorry for making you suffer…”

Declan hurriedly helped his kneeling brother to his feet and embraced him tightly.

“Don’t say that, brother. I’ve always believed in you. You know how many wicked men there are in the world. In the end, we only have each other. Isn’t that right? And it’s all right—just as you said, I found the witch. I drank the potion she gave me, and my whole body was healed! I’m no longer tormented by fever, brother. In fact, I feel even stronger than before I fell ill. So, in the end, it all worked out for the better. We’ll restore Lutea together, won’t we? I’ll be with you.”

Aidan, still half-crying, looked up at him.

“…Thank you, Declan. But you…”

As if he had been waiting for it, Declan seized upon the moment.

With a start, his eyes flew open.

As he pushed himself upright from where he had been lying, a sharp chill crept over him. Declan blinked in confusion and glanced around.

He was inside a cramped carriage. Outside the curtained window, bright red autumn leaves filled his view.

A dream. Declan realized it was only a dream as he rubbed his sleepy eyes and sat up. He had been lying atop a thick layer of blankets, another wrapped loosely around him. As the fabric slipped from his shoulders, his bare chest was exposed.

He was naked.

Still caught in the lingering haze of the dream, Declan looked down at himself, then peered out the window. Judging by the damp scent of earth and the color of the sky, it seemed to be early morning.

Just then, a knock sounded—tok, tok—and Craig opened the door.

“Are you feeling all right, Your Highness?”

“…You reek of liquor.”

Even in his half-awake state, Prince Declan wrinkled his nose as the heavy stench of alcohol wafted from Craig’s body.

Craig, his face drawn with a hangover, forced an awkward smile.

“It just happened that way, somehow. I heard you nearly got into serious trouble—collapsing while bathing, they said.”

Collapsed.

“I’m terribly sorry that such a thing occurred while I was away. Fortunately, that girl supposedly pulled Your Highness out of the water and brought you all the way back here.”

“……”

Declan was now completely freed from the haze of his dream. He stared at Craig with a vacant, almost foolish look.

“Ah, no one else knows about this. That maid—clever girl—told only me. She’s more perceptive than she looks. But are you feeling all right, Your Highness? Collapsing so suddenly—that’s never happened before, has it? I was worried it might be a new symptom. Do you have a fever or anything? I brought some medicine.”

Declan had no mental space left to properly listen to Craig’s words. Still half in shock, mouth slightly open, he tried to piece together the broken fragments of yesterday’s memory.