The Sand Bride - Side Story 2.1 - Greenhouse (IF)

Greenhouse (IF)

Looking back on it, the more one thought about it, it could be called a very strange incident.

To put it simply, it was nothing more than Karzhen being bitten by a snake on the arm during a hunt. However, first of all, his instincts were usually far too sharp for him to suffer such an accidental mishap; normally, he would have easily noticed something like a snake crawling on the ground before being bitten.

Yet, the fact that the snake had fallen from a tree rather than being on the ground, and that it had managed to bite Karzhen until the very end before dying—even while its body was half-severed and it was perishing—was by no means a natural occurrence.

The fact that the Sayar, who had gone out to hunt, had been bitten by a snake was undoubtedly a major event within the palace.

However, instead of making a fuss or worrying about Karzhen like those in the Southeast might, his subordinates merely offered words of apology with stiff faces for failing to fulfill their duties, and Karzhen, the party involved, accepted this without any particular anger.

The royal physician who examined him also maintained a calm expression, stating that although it was a venomous snake, the amount of venom injected was not very large, and that they only needed to be careful of infection before going off to prepare an antidote.

As such, there was no one in the royal palace who wailed or sighed over Karzhen’s injury. This was because Gharyam was a place where “worrying” about the royalty was itself considered an insult to them.

Unless it was an injury truly grave enough to result in death, they would never commit the great rudeness of daring to worry about a member of the royal family who was stronger than themselves. Therefore, the incident of Karzhen, the Sayar, being injured was something that would just pass over, so long as he accepted his subordinates’ apologies.

“Lord Karzhen.”

That would have been the case, were it not for one single person.

The one who informed Esther of the news of Karzhen’s injury was a palace servant. That servant, who held a fairly high rank, conveyed the objective details of the incident to Esther in a calm voice.

Upon hearing the news, she was startled at first, and after the servant withdrew, she inwardly felt a sense of gratification, even indulging in the impure imagination that he was receiving divine punishment. However, after all that passed, her reason began to whisper reality to her.

“Do you have a fever? You don’t feel nauseous, do you?”

That reality led Esther to pour out questions about his physical condition—essentially, words akin to a medical consultation. Karzhen, who had arrived with a bandage wrapped around his right forearm, naturally had an absurd look on his face.

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

He merely retorted, but Esther was infinitely serious. She asked several more questions on top of the ones Karzhen had already heard from the royal physician and repeatedly examined Karzhen’s body meticulously.

In those eyes looking at Karzhen, there was a fear deeper than worry—the emotion she had harbored most since coming to this palace.

‘What if Karzhen dies?’

Previously, Karzhen’s existence itself, or her own death, had brought fear to Esther, but now, the fear that had befallen her was Karzhen’s death itself.

What if this man dies just like this? Then, even if I don’t know what will happen to me, there will be no one left to send medicine or a doctor to my father.

Esther was so terrified that just thinking about that possibility made her whole body lose its strength. In such a situation, Esther’s personal feelings were not important. Karzhen must not die. Even if he died, she wouldn’t be sad, but instead, fear and despair would find her through a different path.

In this bizarre situation where she was more afraid that the man she feared might die, Esther didn’t know what to do. So, she acted sensitively, like a slightly crazy person. Regardless, she had been born the daughter of a doctor and knew a lot, and that knowledge only brought her more unnecessary worry.

“You mustn’t let the wound touch water, Lord Karzhen. Don’t eat anything greasy for a while. It’s not good for detoxification.”

Esther spoke like a parrot every time she and Karzhen were doing something together in the room. After saying it, she would watch Karzhen’s reaction, but she couldn’t stop.

The knowledge she had acquired over time made her imagine the worst-case scenarios Karzhen could face—such as the wound opening, becoming inflamed, or being infected by some terrible germ—and even if the possibility was very slim, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut because she kept imagining that it could happen.

Moreover, she didn’t just wag her tongue. Esther personally changed Karzhen’s bandages three times a day, washed her own hands clean before changing them, and was busy asking the royal physician—who came every week to check on his condition—all sorts of questions that Karzhen himself didn’t even ask out of anxiety.

The worry was so great that she would get scared enough for the area under her eyes and her nose to turn red even if Karzhen, while sleeping, just tossed and turned and let out a groan.