Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 51

The rain poured down all afternoon. And as the sun set, thunder began to roll now too.

Even if it hadn’t been for Prince Declan’s illness, they would have had to postpone the departure schedule regardless. That’s how crazily the rain was falling.

The village’s dirt paths were all ruined, and every step caused soggy mud to slosh inside their shoes. Naturally, on such a day, it was right to simply wait for the rain to stop in a place where one could quietly take shelter.

Maeve was trimming herbs at the village elder’s living room, borrowing the large table. At the same time, she was also making ointment for minor injuries. Since the village elder came back out to the living room as if he had been waiting for Colm to go into his room, she was able to converse with him so as not to be bored.

They soon ate dinner together, a stew made from the mushrooms Maeve had brought. Colm was out again by then too. However, he quickly finished his meal without even glancing at Maeve and the elder, then returned to his room.

Subsequently, the elder also said he was getting sleepy and went back to his room.

Maeve stared blankly into the pot where the soup remained. There was just enough left for one person.

Maeve transferred the remaining soup onto an empty plate and put it on a tray, then climbed the stairs. She reached the door of the room where Prince Declan was resting in a single dash up the stairs.

Leaving it in front of the door felt quite rude. Should I open the door just a tiny bit and slip the plate in and leave? She eventually came to that conclusion.

Although Prince Declan had asked her not to come near him for the time being, she honestly didn’t want to be close to Prince Declan while he was having a seizure either.

The memory of having a minuscule amount of magical power drained from her the other day firmly contributed to recalling the time she most wanted to forget. Maeve did not want to experience that again.

Maeve stood stock still in front of the door for several minutes. She put her ear to the door and carefully listened to the sounds coming from inside. No sound was heard. No groaning or mumbling, no delirious talk was heard.

She bent down and opened the door just a tiny bit. Since it was night, the room was naturally dark. However, even accounting for that, it was almost pitch black.

She slid the tray with the plate into the gap of the door. After a moment, she realized that the inside was truly strangely silent.

Eventually, she peeked her head in and moved closer into the darkness.

The room was not that large. Yet, no sound could be heard even from this distance.

Did he die in the meantime?

Her hesitation was brief, and she concluded that if he had indeed died, it would be right for her to deal with his body. Maeve returned with a lantern. And she carefully entered Prince Declan’s room. The yellow lantern light illuminated the old wooden floor and the corner of the bed. Limply sprawled fingers were visible on the edge of the bed.

Maeve shut the door behind her with a thud. And she slowly walked inside.

The lantern, following her movement, illuminated a little further inside. The light revealed a man lying curled up motionless on the old bed woven with straw.

The man looked as if he was asleep at first glance. However, the neck was covered with colorful red scratches, the bloodless and pallid skin, and the red spots scattered from his face to the tips of his fingers, all added to the sense of strangeness. Above all, no sound of breathing could be heard, even from this distance.

He truly looked like a dead person.

Maeve carefully bent down and sat, adjusting her eye level. And she brought one finger towards his nose. At that moment, the man’s eyelids fluttered as if by a lie.

Prince Declan’s eyelids, which had been lying still like a wax figure, lifted. His beautiful blue eyes, even in the midst of hovering near death, stared at her.

Maeve felt a revulsion toward Prince Declan’s beauty, which shone even at this moment. Perhaps because she had heard him talking about taxidermy yesterday, he looked like a well-preserved exhibit. Maeve carefully brought her finger in front of Prince Declan’s eyes and wiggled it.

The blue eyes slowly moved from left to right, following Maeve’s finger.

“…Eve.”

A cracked voice flowed from his parched lips.

Maeve thought that Prince Declan would get angry. At the very least, she thought he would show annoyance, asking why she didn’t leave him alone as he had requested. However, that would only be possible if he had the energy for it. The Prince Declan before her looked as if he was exerting all his might just to open his eyes and speak.

Hadn’t it been about a day and a half since she last spoke with him? Compared to then, Prince Declan now looked as though he was on the verge of death. Yes. To anyone, he now looked as if his life was fading away.

“Thank you for coming.”