Isili, who turned sixty-five this year, was on his way home after finishing his daily tasks.

He was originally a doctor from the Egelbamot Imperial Palace, belonging to the medical team of Empress Iris led by Tanel Marod.

Not only was he older than his master Tanel, but he was closer in age to Bahamal, Tanel’s teacher who had now left Egelbamot. However, Isili could not rise any higher due to his innate status. Although born into a noble family, his father was a commoner.

Still, Isili had no complaints about his circumstances. Not just his circumstances, he had no complaints about his life at all. Usually, by the time one reaches sixty-five, they are either full of complaints or understand everything.

Objectively speaking, Isili’s life was not that unfortunate.

Although he grew up without any support from his family due to his parents’ noble-commoner marriage, being poor did not necessarily mean being unhappy. Of course, the two were often closely related, with poverty frequently accompanied by unhappiness, but at least this was not the case for Isili’s family.

Though not very wealthy, his parents cared deeply for each other, and loved their two children as much as their spouse. Isili also loved his brother and parents.

Misfortune struck the close-knit family of four when an epidemic spread through the capital.

The plague struck without regard for status, gender, or age, but the commoners suffered the greatest damage.

At twenty, Isili lost all his family members to the epidemic. It was the greatest loss one could experience in life.

Soon after losing all his loved ones, he thought it would be better if he died too.

However, Isili could not bring himself to take his own life. He knew this was not what his beloved family would have wanted.

In the end, instead of dying, Isili decided to spend the rest of his life for others.

Thus, he lived as an herbalist for nearly twenty years, moving between slums and commoner residential areas. Although he couldn’t protect his own family, he lived protecting the families of countless others. It was a rewarding and meaningful life.

But there were limits to the knowledge gained in a restricted environment.

To help more people, he needed to learn proper medical skills.

No, more than medical skills, money was urgent. Not to satisfy personal greed, but to help people who couldn’t even afford basic cleanliness and health.

Although his only skill was medical knowledge that had never been properly certified, Isili worked day and night to earn more money. It was in the midst of such money-saving efforts that he met his master Tanel.

Tanel, who was still an intern under Bahamal at the time, showed interest in the herbs he handled. Unlike nobles, commoners couldn’t use expensive painkillers, so these were ones he had personally mixed.

“If you research this further and create the medicine I’m talking about, I’ll add a generous compensation.”

That’s how their relationship started, but as time passed, Tanel began to take notice of the skills he had accumulated over many years of treating people without money.

“It seems you have an interest in medicine. How about becoming my disciple? Though I’m still young, my experience is no less than others.”

For Isili, who always had a desire for greater learning, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

From then on, Isili followed Tanel wherever he went. There was no shame in the age reversal between master and disciple. There was no age difference in learning.

Tanel was a good teacher. He possessed a rare nobility of character. Despite being born into a wealthy family and growing up without want, he knew how to practice sharing and always looked down to find those in need of help.

When Isili expressed admiration for this, Tanel blushed and replied.

“It’s all thanks to my teacher. All my good points, I learned from him.”

Unexpectedly, Tanel’s teacher was someone Isili knew as well. Bahamal Sirt was a famous name in the slums. Every winter, when many people died from cold and starvation, he set up large-scale relief centers to help people.

His master’s teacher was also excellent. By then, Isili, who was already deeply impressed by Tanel, realized this fact and decided to serve his master until death.

The blind devotion gained at a somewhat advanced age was in some ways deeper than that of younger people.

To the extent that even if Tanel said he would send him, at over sixty years old, to the foreign country of Aglante, he would follow without a single question.

“I need a discreet and skilled doctor to send to the Sigrasal royal family. I think you’re the right person, Isili.”

That one sentence was enough. Isili immediately packed his bags and went to Aglante.

Although he could no longer continue the relief work he had been doing in his spare time, he was able to make up for it with the increased compensation he received when leaving for Aglante.

Isili knew that sometimes money was more effective than his own service. The streets that had been full of filth when he first met his master were now neatly paved, which was proof of this.

Building clean water and sewage systems was far more helpful than him caring for one sick person.

The work he ended up doing at Sigrasal Palace was not much different from what he did in Egelbamot. Making medicine for patients with neurosis.

Of course, that wasn’t his only task.

“My teacher and the person he serves are in Brinwell. Help them.”

It wasn’t a difficult task. He just had to answer questions sincerely.

He knew that leaking information about the Sigrasal royal family was a capital offense if caught.

However, Isili didn’t think this action was wrong. Not all right actions were necessarily within the bounds of the law, and not all illegal actions were necessarily wrong.

“You’re the only one I can trust.”

Moreover, ignoring his master’s words would not be proper for a disciple.

Although it had been nearly twenty years since he joined Tanel, Isili was still willing to do anything for his master.

Finishing his reminiscence, Isili took another step towards home. His house was just outside the walls of Edegrun.

The Aglante royal side had offered to provide accommodation inside the walls, but Isili deliberately refused. It was better to stay outside the walls to easily communicate with his master’s teacher in Brinwell.

It was then that someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

The sun had set quite a while ago, making it too dark to distinguish faces. Startled, Isili asked the stranger who had suddenly appeared behind him.

“Wh-who is it?”

The stranger then held out something over his shoulder.

Thinking that the man’s voice sounded somewhat familiar, Isili felt it. On the round metal about the size of a decorative button was engraved a pattern familiar even to him. It was the crest of the Egelbamot Imperial Family.

Realizing who the man behind him was, Isili hurriedly turned around.

“Y-Your Highness?”

“Shh, don’t speak loudly.”

The whispering voice was slightly out of breath. Isili realized that a pungent smell was coming from the Second Prince of his homeland behind him. It was the smell of blood.

Come to think of it, the hand placed on his shoulder was also warm and damp. Isili asked in a hushed voice.

“Are you hurt?”

The prince, whose face couldn’t be seen, was silent for a moment before saying.

“Let’s go inside first.”

The delegation from Brinwell arrived about two weeks after Netepel Runtalis had left the castle.

By then, the wounds on Ophelia’s neck had faded considerably. Having secretly examined the affected area every night, Idren could immediately confirm the process of the wounds fading. The bruise that had turned dark blue within two or three days had gradually faded with time and now remained only slightly yellowish.

But unlike the disappearing bruise, Ophelia’s mood was getting worse.

“We missed Netepel.”

When asked for the reason, she pressed her lips tightly for a moment before answering.

“They said they had inflicted a near-fatal injury, but they don’t know where he disappeared to.”

And Ophelia muttered with an irritated face. I should have just given him poisoned wine.

While it was good that she was burning with murderous intent towards the Second Prince, Idren didn’t want her to be angry at herself because of it, so he comforted her.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably still in Aglante, so we’ll find him soon.”

A secret wanted order had been issued to all ports, but no reports had come in. It meant that the Second Prince had not yet left Aglante.

“Perhaps he’s already dead somewhere no one knows, and we just can’t find the body.”

“That makes even less sense. They said they searched the entire surrounding area.”

They recovered all the bodies from the coachman to the servants, but Netepel’s is the only one missing.

Ophelia, who had been muttering while irritably rubbing her face, became increasingly anxious as time passed. Idren could tell this from her lips, which bore traces of being bitten.

Wanting to solve his wife’s problem before her lips were further damaged, Idren personally sent out people. He intended to find Netepel, alive or dead, and bring him before Ophelia.

However, the results were the same on this side as well.