Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 54

That he simply acted before thinking, without needing a reason. The result of that action, which some might judge as foolish, ultimately saved Maeve. It brought her to this very place.

Having survived all this time because of such excessive goodwill, did she now have the right to determine Prince Declan’s life? Maeve herself thought she had no such right.

Shhh-ahh.

The rain poured down without ceasing. It poured endlessly, even seeming to spill into her mind.

Maeve tried to push away all the thoughts and hypotheticals in her mind and focus only on what was right in front of her.

The medicines she had made over several hours, the extra herbs and mushrooms, the ointments, and the mercenary’s sword nearby.

The sword she had taken from Fionechta, the mercenary who deliberately approached Prince Declan to watch for an opportunity to kidnap him, was right there. Yes. Come to think of it, she had already intervened right there, so would it hurt to get a little more entangled now?

“…I regret it.”

She had already made these things, as if preparing for all sorts of troublesome possibilities. As if she herself was already prepared.

“Before it came to this… more often…”

Would it be right to let Prince Declan die, in accordance with the law of nature? Well. She agreed with that law to some extent, but she could not fully sympathize with it.

Maeve got up from where she was sitting. And she climbed the stairs.

The room was still pitch black, like an abyss.

And sickeningly silent.

Maeve entered the room slowly, holding the lantern. As she approached the bed, she lifted the lantern to check Prince Declan’s condition.

Prince Declan looked like a well-displayed wax figure. The strangely beautiful features, combined with the corpse-like pallor of his skin, made him appear so at a glance. Maeve set down the lantern she was holding.

The simplest and fastest way to transfer magical power to another person is, after all, through contact. By merely sharing warmth, some of the magical power is transferred to the other person, and the other person’s magical power is also transferred to oneself. It is a form of resonance.

The wizards of Sorten generally moved in pairs. When one side’s magical power was depleted, the remaining one shared their own magical power. This was how they prevented the casting of a spell from being interrupted.

The Archmage Fergus, who possessed an extreme fastidiousness for his status, did not favor the method of physical contact. Instead, he carried her around in a cage, like a birdcage, made of special material he had meticulously crafted. On the surface, he said it was for her safety.

‘…That bastard.’

Maeve muttered inwardly, then reached out to the man before her as if moved by obstinance.

Just in case, she brought her fingers to his nose first. Prince Declan was, fortunately, alive. He was breathing at a very minimum, having fallen into a deep sleep.

Looking at him this way, Prince Declan’s facial features were quite strong, apart from his beauty. His jaw jutted out manfully, and the line extending from his eyebrow to his nose was also quite pronounced.

Soon, Maeve’s fingers moved slowly, as if tracing his face. Even after resolving to do so, she found it hard to reach him easily, before finally resting on his pale cheek.

The small hand, smelling of earth in addition to the scent of grass, settled on his cheek like fluttering wings. She carefully raised her thumb and gently rubbed his cheek.

The first sensation was a coldness nearly identical to that of a corpse. The surface of his skin was ice-cold, as if all his vitality and body heat had been stolen. However, something began to spread, pulsating from the point where her fingers touched.

As expected, there was almost no magical power left in the Prince Declan’s body. A certain desolate emptiness gathered at the tips of her fingers and scattered.

Then, the scale began sucking her magical power at a rate incomparable to before.

The dragon scale, which had been sucking the remaining vitality, had finally recognized this new source of supply.

As always, the sensation of having magical power drained was not pleasant. Maeve endured it, trying not to take her hand away. It felt as though her heart was located at the tip of her finger. The sensation of the magical power being rapidly sucked out of her fingertip was very much like a pulsation.

Had it been about a few minutes? Maeve felt the scale become quiet, as if it were satisfied.

Maeve carefully lifted the lantern with her other hand and shone it on Prince Declan’s face.

Beneath the yellow light, the sleeping face of Prince Declan looked much more peaceful than before.

Maeve carefully brought her ear near his face to listen to his breathing.

Just as she was cautiously confirming his healthier breathing, the man’s hand, which had been lying limply nearby like a branch, moved and abruptly grabbed the hand that was cupping his cheek.

Whether she stared at him in tension or not, the Prince Declan, still asleep, interlocked his fingers with her small fingers, clasping them together.

And he fell into a solitary, peaceful slumber.