Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 2

Declan clenched his teeth as the face of that old man—advisor to the late king, scholar, and poet—came to mind.

‘I should have married early myself, and left behind a child to carry on the blood of Lutea.’

Declan regretted it.

Yes. He should have married. There was no shortage of women, renowned across neighboring kingdoms, who wished to become his wife—enchanted by his dazzling beauty that had spread far and wide.

The only reason Prince Declan had not married was because he didn’t want to burden his brother, Aidan. The people already favored him over the king, and if he were to have a child resembling himself, they would surely raise their voices, insisting that the child be adopted as the heir.

Even in the midst of such suffering, foolish Declan continued to dwell on those innocent thoughts that would only enrage Aidan, tears flowing freely down his face. Then, Aidan stroked his brother’s cheek and whispered something that made Declan’s eyes widen.

“Seek out the witch, Declan.”

That was what Aidan said.

“The witch?”

“I’ve heard there’s still one witch remaining in the west. They say she lives in an autumn forest, where the leaves are red all year round.”

“Brother…”

Declan called out urgently, as if to ask what nonsense he was suddenly speaking of, but Aidan paid no heed. He continued, speaking gently to Declan, who had lived his entire life surrounded by flowers and light.

“They say the forest is enchanted, and that those who enter lose their way. But if you go in with a desperate heart and pray sincerely for help, the witch will allow you to find her. That is the only way to break the curse.”

“No. What are you saying? Please, you promised to summon a mage!”

“The mage already came while you were asleep,” Aidan replied quietly. “He said that no magic of the mages could cure this. The only remaining hope lies in the savage power that the witches possess.”

His tone was so calm, so composed, that Declan’s attempt to argue back felt childish even to himself.

In the past two months, renowned physicians had come and gone from the royal palace, all to treat him. Not only that—Aidan had even brought in a proud, high-ranking mage, yet even he had been unable to cure Declan’s illness.

“Then let’s send an expedition,” Declan suggested weakly. “We’ll bring the witch here—”

“You must go yourself, Declan,” Aidan interrupted. “The mages say the witch will never leave her forest. You’ll have to go to her.”

Declan looked up at his brother, speechless. But when he saw Aidan’s tearful face, his own complaints faded away.

“I’ll think about it,” he said softly. “Please, go back for now.”

Lutea—

The once-great kingdom that had boasted vast lands and glory was now long past its prime.

For over a century, it had slowly yielded its territories piece by piece, until the proud kingdom was reduced to watching the whims of its neighbors—those same smaller nations it had once mocked.

Naive and foolish though he was, Declan’s pride as a member of the royal family was greater than anyone’s. He was meant to be an example to the people, to stand tall and proud, yet now he was becoming a burden to his own kingdom.

The next day, when signs of another seizure began to appear, Declan went to his brother on his own and said he would do as Aidan had asked.

From that day on, preparations for the second prince’s journey began.

“They say the second prince is leaving the castle.”

“Why? Is he finally getting married? To the princess from the neighboring kingdom, perhaps? I heard that when she visited with the delegation not long ago, she looked at the prince’s pale face and said she actually liked how sickly he looked.”

“No. He’s going to find a witch.”

When a maid doing laundry said this absentmindedly, the people fell silent for a few seconds. Then, as soon as the stillness broke—laughter erupted.

……Yes. It was that kind of era.

“How long will it take to reach the western forest where the witch lives?”

“I heard she lives all the way at the edge, Your Highness. They say you’ll see the maple forest just when you start to think, ‘So this really is the end of the world.’”

Throughout the preparations for the journey, the second prince had been so downcast that he had locked himself away in his bedchamber.

Craig, his attendant, helped the servants pack while keeping Prince Declan company with idle conversation.

“What if we go all that way to meet the witch, and she turns out to be just an old woman gathering herbs, Craig?”

Declan knew well enough that people were mocking this expedition.

“It was the mages who told the tale of the witch, wasn’t it? They’re not the sort to spout nonsense, so we should trust their words.”

Craig replied with an indifferent expression, and as if he had been waiting for that very response, Declan rose from his bed.

“Yes. Of course. The story came from the mages, so it can’t possibly be false. And didn’t you say your family once saw the witch, too?”

“…Oh… Yes, perhaps it was my great-grandmother.”

Declan, now fully on his feet, walked briskly over to the basin to wash his face.

No matter his illness, he always seems so bright.

Craig thought to himself as he finished packing the last of the bags.

“I’ll pack a thick blanket for the journey.”

“No, bring the one I always use. I can’t sleep without it.”

Outside the window, the world was dyed in the colors of autumn leaves.

Just as the sweltering summer had ended and autumn had arrived, winter, too, was certain to come soon.

It’ll be cold before long.

Instead of saying that aloud, Craig simply replied, “As you wish, Your Highness,” and signaled to a maid to quietly tuck the thin, rustling blanket into the luggage.

He’ll die soon anyway, so it hardly matters.