Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 15

Despite having suddenly fainted, Prince Declan was perfectly fine for the next two days. After that, he deliberately avoided the maid. Of course, he didn’t do so openly—when he absolutely had to speak to her, he would simply extend a finger from inside the carriage and give brief instructions.

The maid was unexpectedly tight-lipped. Considering she hadn’t even told Craig what had happened that day, she clearly wasn’t one to gossip. He was quietly grateful for that. But since he now found her uncomfortable for other reasons, he did his best to avoid her.

His condition had improved as well, so there was no need to rely on anyone else’s help. Normally, once the illness flared up, it would last at least three days, sometimes even up to a week.

When it manifested as a fever, he would suffer through two days of high temperature at minimum, and even after the fever broke, he would still linger in weakness for the rest of the week.

But this time, there were hardly any symptoms at all!

Perhaps that sudden fainting spell had somehow burned out the sickness altogether, the prince thought hopefully.

And strangely enough, once he left the castle, his body felt lighter, as though a weight had been lifted. Perhaps life within the castle walls simply didn’t suit him. To think that his illness could be cured by stepping outside—it was odd, but he chose to see it as a good sign.

It was the night of the third day since his humiliating collapse. That day, Declan had felt chills running through his entire body from midday onward. He was nauseated and unable to eat anything.

The symptoms were identical to those he’d felt right before fainting on the day they were invited to dine at the farmhouse. No matter what he tried to eat, it felt like he would throw it up.

He decided to go to bed early and lay down inside the carriage. But less than an hour later, he awoke drenched in sweat. A dreadful fever and pounding headache struck him so hard that he couldn’t move from where he lay.

From outside came a soft knocking—tap, tap—but he couldn’t even muster the strength to answer, so he simply lay there staring at the dark ceiling.

Then suddenly, the door opened with a creak, and to his dismay, the small woman he’d hoped it wouldn’t be peeked inside.

“……”

She didn’t say a word. The maid only looked at him—her employer, who had said humiliating things to her, fainted disgracefully, and been carried naked—without uttering anything.

In her hands was a plate. She probably meant to quietly leave it inside the carriage for him to eat later when he grew hungry.

He looked more pitiful than ever now, soaked in sweat, his blue eyes rolling weakly as he looked at her.

“……Give it to me.”

He barely managed to part his lips. He didn’t even have the strength to lift a finger; instead, he rolled his eyes toward the spot where Craig had left the medicine bottle.

The maid, quick-witted as ever, followed the direction of his gaze. She stepped into the carriage and checked the pocket inside the tunic he had taken off. Soon, she pulled out the small bottle that had been hidden within.

It was the only medicine that could ease his pain. No matter what the symptom, that medicine allowed him at least a brief respite—enough to sleep without agony. Declan looked up at her with desperate eyes, filled with hope and longing.

But the maid only stared at the bottle in her hand, her expression unreadable. She pulled out the cork and sniffed the contents before gazing back down at him.

Then, still holding the bottle, she turned away instead of approaching him—and stepped out of the carriage.

Damn it.

Where are you going?

Maeve climbed down from the carriage and went straight to look for Craig. But he, who was usually always nearby, was nowhere to be found. Having no other choice, she headed toward the supply wagon.

“Maeve, what are you doing?”

Rory, who had been tending a fire nearby, called out. Without even glancing at him, Maeve replied, “Checking on the medicine,” and walked past.

Rory abandoned his fire and followed after her—it was obvious he was just looking for an excuse to slack off.

Maeve climbed up into the supply wagon, paying no attention to him, and began rummaging through the sacks and crates. Empty boxes that had once held food, a sack full of potatoes given by the elderly couple at the farmhouse, two water sacks, a box of the prince’s clothes, and then… Maeve persistently searched through the rest.

It was a long journey; there was no way they had only one bottle of medicine. Craig wasn’t the type to carry a separate pack for himself, so if there were any extra medicine, it had to be somewhere here. But no matter how much she searched, no other bottles appeared—only a few small water sacks.