Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 52

Instead of showing annoyance as Maeve expected, he said this. His face, completely pale and devoid of color, was filled with resignation.

“What time is it now?”

“The sun has already set. It is evening.”

“…Ah, yes.”

Prince Declan answered weakly, then only rolled his eyes to look around the room. In the dark room, there was only the maidservant holding the lamp who had come looking for him, and the two of them.

“I brought something you can eat since you’ve been fasting all day.”

Prince Declan looked like he didn’t even have the strength to lift a finger, let alone eat. Nevertheless, Maeve said that first.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t eat. …I don’t have an appetite. Ah, my appetite is the first thing to go before I get sick.”

Suddenly, Maeve recalled that Prince Declan hadn’t touched anything at the farm’s feast.

“I can smell it. A savory smell.”

“…”

“I miss the food the cook at the castle used to make.”

Prince Declan mumbled with a dazed face, then rolled his eyes again to look at Maeve.

“This seizure is a bit different.”

“How so?”

“It should normally hurt continuously… but my skin itched maddeningly, and I had a fever, and then soon all the pain was gone. It’s not usually like this.”

“…”

“Perhaps this is… the worst and final symptom.”

Maeve sat quietly with her knees pulled up, waiting for Prince Declan’s words to continue.

“Maeve.”

“Yes.”

“If I don’t wake up tomorrow morning, quietly dispose of my body. At least somewhere where it won’t fall into the hands of that princess or my brother…”

“…”

“Will you do that for me?”

Maeve nodded without replying. She could do at least that much.

Prince Declan’s voice was getting softer, like a dying candlelight. He now gave a small yawn, as if he was sleepy.

The blotchy red spots on his face and body were even fainter than before. They were proof that his body had been struggling against death.

“Thank you. I’m sleepy.”

“Please sleep.”

“Usually in this situation, people would tell me not to fall asleep…”

Prince Declan yawned slightly again and closed his eyes.

The beautiful blue eyes that were mesmerizing just to look at disappeared beneath long eyelashes. Maeve slowly got up. The figure of Prince Declan lying curled up was visible beneath the hazy light.

Something shining caught her eye amongst his tousled golden hair. It was a dragon scale. The scale of a dragon, once the wisest, most valiant, and strongest on earth, was sparkling. Maeve stared blankly down at it, noting how exceptionally beautiful it shone.

Having continuously sucked the magical power from its host’s body until it was depleted, it was now sucking the life force. Once that was depleted too, Prince Declan would truly die. Judging by his current state, he probably wouldn’t last even a single night.

Witnessing the moment life ebbs away is always unsettling. For some, it might be an occasion to ponder philosophically about life. For others, it might be a seizure by the fear of death itself.

Maeve instinctively recalled the face of the Archmage who lived by escaping death, and even aging. She felt unpleasant once again.

Maeve then stood up completely. She turned her back to leave without delay, but heard something mumbling behind her.

“…I regret it.”

It was a mumbling, like sleep talk.

“I should have… come out sooner…”

“…”

“Before it came to this… more often…”

The man’s face beneath the yellow light was still pale. A single streak of damp tear was seen tracing down the bridge of his nose.

Prince Declan grew quiet, and soon closed his mouth, as if he had completely fallen asleep.

It was silent. He had fallen into a deep sleep again. Perhaps this was the final way his body chose to resist.

This way, at least he’ll die in his sleep. Without pain.

Maeve pulled back the arm holding the lantern so as not to disturb his sleep. At that moment, flash, thunder struck, and the room was momentarily brightened before being plunged into darkness again.

Rumble, the sky seemed to weep, as if mourning his early death. Prince Declan did not even twitch and continued to sleep in that position.

“…”

Maeve stared intently at him one last time, then picked up the tray with the meal and left the room.

She then went down to the kitchen on the first floor. The kitchen was empty.

She placed the tray on the countertop and stared blankly at the cooling plate for a long time. Then, she quickly turned her head. The potions she had made in abundance were lined up in bottles, and on the table was the mercenary’s greatsword she had meticulously cleaned.

All of them were things she had prepared for him.

They were things she had prepared for Prince Declan, who was obviously going to be swept away and meet a violent end somewhere, even if not from the illness, if she left him alone.