Chapter 40. The Hotter the Night, the Sweeter the Lips Should Be

2023.11.09.

How long had it been since they last exchanged such meaningless jokes like this?

Lancelot, delighted by the smooth flow of conversation, plopped himself down onto Clade Euphris’s rocking chair.

The rocking chair, no longer creaking, gently cradled Lancelot.

“Gustav! So you’ve finally succeeded in your operation! That damn creaking noise had been making my nerves even more sensitive.”

“It wasn’t me.”

Housekeeper Gustav, carefully tucking the file Clade had poked toward him into his arms, left with an ambiguous reply.

Lancelot glanced at Clade with surprise.

“You wouldn’t have bent over and oiled it yourself.”

“What’s so interesting about my household affairs?”

“You already forgot what I just said? Strictly speaking, it’s Eddie’s house later on, isn’t it?”

“It’s not yet. And you have no right to talk either.”

Clade propped his chin on the table and exposed his face to the sunlight.

“Huh—?”

Lancelot, watching him with an amused expression, suddenly widened his eyes.

“What did you do?”

“Instead of picking fights, why don’t you go help tend the garden?”

“Your face!”

“I already know without you calling it disgusting all over again.”

“Your, your face!!”

Lancelot frantically rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a hand mirror, holding it up to Clade.

“Your forehead is incredibly clean!”

He had noticed the mark gradually fading, but seeing Clade’s forehead looking freshly sun-tanned for the first time made Lancelot excitedly shout.

Clade stared at the mirror for a long while, as if it were not his own face.

“Yuan Pelliese is really something, isn’t she? I just met the physician, and he said your wife has been paying extraordinary attention to the medicine you take. The painkiller’s effect has improved dramatically, apparently? I heard the physician is a top graduate from the Academy—anyone who can research alongside him must be truly exceptional. If your wife actually attended the Academy, she’d cause quite the scandal, eh?”

Lancelot chattered excitedly, carelessly.

Since childhood, he had always treated Clade’s inner self as treasure, even when others dismissed it as trash.

After Clade received a mark close to a curse, he had tried to joke it off as nothing, but Lancelot always felt the weight in his heart like a lump of lead—so he was even more excited now.

Yet unlike the elated Lancelot, Clade grew increasingly somber as he examined his now nearly healed forehead.

“What’s wrong? Got some worries? You’re always cooped up in this corner anyway.”

Clade bit his lower lip tightly, as if his pride had been wounded, then let out a deep sigh and turned his gaze toward the window.

The sun was nearly setting.

Lancelot tilted his head, puzzled by Clade’s sudden, pointless anxiety in the corner of the room.

And then—

“How can a woman not feel pain during intimacy?”

Words that seemed utterly impossible to come from Clade’s mouth slipped out.

Intimacy. Woman. Pain.

Lancelot closed his gaping mouth and narrowed his soft-looking eyebrows sharply.

“What? It’s been over a month already—she’s still in pain? The housekeeper said their marital relationship is beyond words good.”

“I never said it was about me.”

Clade’s weak protest was useless.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lancelot scolded him.

“You lack consideration.”

Arms tightly crossed, one leg propped up, Lancelot clicked his tongue like someone who had just witnessed a bucket leaking from the outside after being filled from within.

“It’s obvious even without seeing. You probably didn’t openly mistreat your wife just because she’s your wife, but coercion isn’t always violent. That cold, condescending stare that keeps her from rising up. That damn tongue of yours, acting as if you’ve never heard or learned a single kind word.”

“You’re useless, yet your mouth stays active.”

“I don’t need any of that.”

Lancelot pointed a firm finger straight at Clade, fired up.

“Consideration comes first! Keep asking if she’s in pain. Even in the smallest moment when you move that sturdy body of yours, you must wait until she says it’s okay. At that moment, forget you’re royalty—think of yourself as her servant in every way! Huh?!”

“…….”

“Being clean is a must. Since you do nothing but eat, sleep, and bathe, I’ll let that slide. Huh? Huh? Exactly—kill off that cold, heartless glare that keeps her down! Just snuff it out!”

Lancelot glared fiercely, extending his index and middle fingers as if to pluck out Clade’s eyes.

“Lastly— the hotter the night, the sweeter and kinder the lips should be.”

He could do nothing else but bathe.

He didn’t know that the moment he took medicine and their bodies touched, someone would completely paint over his memory.

Clade’s face darkened further.

“No answer, huh? Well, I suppose your wife might not even expect such things from you.”

“…….”

“If you don’t feel confident pleasing her at night, then do your best during the day. Wouldn’t it be pitiful to see her making such efforts?”

Lancelot suddenly recalled Yuan Pelliese, tears streaming down her face as she asked if her husband had killed her sister, but he tried hard to push that memory away for now.

Eddie still hadn’t lowered his guard toward Yuan Pelliese, but Lancelot, who saw this couple far more often than Eddie, thought differently.

Clade’s recent positive changes were nothing short of miraculous.

Judging from Clade’s condition, how could anyone suspect Yuan of having ill intentions?

Or still think so? It seemed unnecessary even to ask whether she had hurt Clade.

“The west wing has changed a lot lately.”

“?”

“Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lancelot smirked cleverly and slipped out of the room like an actor exiting a scene, deliberately leaving Clade curious.

***

“This one doesn’t have many days left, I’m afraid.”

Hire Hatarun said as he circled around while Yuan was erasing the black marks in the west wing.

Yuan paused brushing and stared at Hire, who was making “chuchu-” sounds to catch Oliver’s attention.

“Did you study veterinary medicine?”

“Not extensively. Just briefly as a minor. Ha ha, mostly by osmosis. Veterinary medicine was dozens of times harder for me than any other subject—I never managed to finish.”

Hire carefully observed Oliver, who avoided coming near Yuan whenever Hire was present.

Yuan, too, stiffened slightly as he watched Oliver.

Lately, Oliver’s health had been far from normal.

The food bowls Hena brought morning and evening were barely touched.

Though he showed interest in the venison jerky Yuan had specially requested from head cook Ralph, he would chew a few times before spitting it out repeatedly.

“I haven’t known this dog long, but normally dogs avoid relieving themselves near where they stay. But this one’s been having frequent accidents lately. And lying there so listlessly, just staring toward the main house—it’s all rather…”

Yuan had assumed it was temporary.

After all, anyone might have an accident once in a while, lose their appetite, and Oliver lying there listlessly, gazing toward the main house—he had simply thought it was because he missed his master.

Having never owned a dog before, Yuan could only think this way.

After briefly checking the cleaned bricks, Yuan tidied up the brushes soaked in medicine.

“I should find some veterinary books. Maybe make some medicine or tonic to feed him.”

Yuan roughly wiped his hands on the apron he’d borrowed from stableman Mazarin and tightly closed the cap of the cleaning solution bottle.

As she finished her work, Hire watched her with a complicated expression.

“Mr. Hire?”

“Milady. I’m sorry to say this, but… this dog is already old. It wouldn’t be meaningful to try to fix him.”

Yuan froze, clutching the large glass bottle tightly.

“But isn’t there any way? Even a little. Any medicine—”

“Medicine and herbs are precious enough for human use. Keeping an old dog alive like this would only bring him suffering. I was taught it’s wiser to minimize his pain and stay by his side.”

“That can’t be…”

Yuan let out a short sigh. Hire, seeing he could offer no other words, looked at the old dog with deep sympathy.

“…I heard His Highness’s dosage of painkillers has decreased significantly.”

“Hm?”

Her dark eyes, previously wavering, suddenly hardened.

Hire quickly assessed Yuan, who had instantly regained her composure despite his startled expression.

“That’s right. The painkiller we reformulated together is far more effective—”

“Please help me make a painkiller for the dog. Just remove the ingredients harmful to dogs from the remaining painkiller supplies.”

“!”

“Can you help me?”

Her dark eyes, now resolute, stared straight into Hire’s.

***

Yuan immediately began frantically making a painkiller suitable for dogs.

She removed ingredients from the original formula that were toxic to dogs and added others with similar effects but safe for canine consumption.

Testing whether the combination would turn into poison or medicine was necessary, but Yuan judged only for toxicity and quickly mixed the medicine into Oliver’s water.

Until now, she hadn’t noticed closely, but Oliver wasn’t properly drinking water anymore, not just food.

The amount of fresh water changed every morning remained untouched by evening.

In the end, Yuan used her ability to absorb enough of Oliver’s pain so he could eat food, take medicine, and drink water.

Yuan gently stroked Oliver’s head, which no longer shied away when she approached.

Even while she stayed by his side and eased his pain, she couldn’t stop his body from dying.

She told Hena and the housekeeper, but they sorrowfully insisted Clade must not find out.

“Why?”

“The master pathologically hates any living thing dying within this mansion.”

“But Oliver is—”

“There are no exceptions. Perhaps the housekeeper will take him outside the mansion as soon as he dies, or even carry him to the hunting lodge outside the estate before he passes.”

Hena whispered sadly.

Her eyes, already swollen from crying, were red and puffy.