151. Where Is Yuan Pelliese

2024.02.28.

Hire Hatarun pinched his nose shut and grimaced.

Despite his entire body rejecting the overwhelming stench of alcohol—so strong it felt intoxicating just to smell it—the Crown Prince in front of him didn’t budge, simply staring back.

He had countless things to say the moment he saw Clade, yet now the words had scattered somewhere, refusing to come out.

It was partly because the Crown Prince’s presence, imposing like a predator he’d never seen before, made his spine tingle slightly.

For a moment, Hire was speechless at the sight of Clade’s face—completely free of any trace of the curse.

His once-flawed complexion was now flawlessly clean, not a single blemish in sight.

Instinctively, Hire even suspected that Yuan Pelliese must have fully healed Clade before leaving.

He had no idea how such a thing could be possible, but the evidence was right before his eyes.

Hire clutched his growling stomach, suddenly reminded that he was nothing more than a fugitive.

Though his body began trembling, he forced himself to focus solely on Yuan.

He recalled the days he had gone without food just to meet Clade.

His eyes, which had begun to resemble those of a herbivore facing a predator, gradually hardened.

“Did you come from some entertainment district? Surely not? No normal person could reek like this.”

“Go on.”

Hire flinched at the Crown Prince’s voice, which dripped with a tone of forced patience.

Clade’s eyes gleamed like they’d been soaked in liquor.

A thought surfaced—was it even right to deliver such serious news to someone this drunk?—but there was no more time to waste.

He had already lost too much time being captured by pirates.

“Do you know that the Lady is ill?”

Hire gritted his teeth as he stared at the emotionless face before him.

“Do you know why she, in such a sickly state, would go to Prince Bollonico the First?”

“Get to the point.”

“The Lady is ill.”

A long silence swept through the prison.

Hire met Clade’s gaze, which remained unresponsive.

After a long while, a whisper finally came.

“Continue.”

“That’s it?”

Furious at the short reply after such a long silence, Hire shouted.

“It’s not just that she’s a little weak. I don’t know the exact illness, but having treated countless patients, I can sense things. The Lady’s vitality has been so severely drained that her dying soon wouldn’t be surprising.”

Another silence passed before hurried footsteps approached them. Soon, the Rev brothers stood on either side behind Clade.

Fearing he might not get to speak at all under Eddie’s sharp presence, Hire quickly continued.

“People don’t just vomit blood from mere fatigue or weakness. She clearly has a severe illness, or perhaps… perhaps…”

The memory of holding Yuan as she collapsed in the palace returned vividly, causing him pain.

Yuan had been too light, too pale. When he laid her down and checked her pulse, he was shocked.

Her heartbeat was as weak as that of an eighty-year-old woman—barely flickering, on the verge of extinguishing.

He gripped the prison bars and trembled.

“It’s a terminal illness. Without proper treatment, she’s on a strict time limit—she could die at any moment.”

“Enough nonsense, Hire Hatarun.”

Eddie, who had been silently listening, warned sharply.

He was already furious enough that Clade, in a drunken state, had wandered here—likely having slept somewhere on the streets.

Hire Hatarun, clearly acting under the royal family’s orders, was already deserving of punishment just for being here, yet he kept choosing words that enraged Eddie further.

“You should trust reliable people. Who’s behind this attempt to unsettle Clade this time?”

“So you don’t believe me at all? You don’t even want to believe that the Lady is gravely ill?”

Hire’s eyes blazed at Eddie’s sharp question.

“Then how about this? Why would someone so sick that she vomits blood choose to go to Prince Bollonico instead of resting quietly somewhere? Why enter the palace, where no one welcomes her?”

“Because you’ve been ordered by that bastard from the start!”

“No!”

Hire shook the bars as if screaming.

“The day I left that black mansion. Yes, as the junior Marquis suspected, I was indeed a pawn of the royal family, and I received an order. Do you know what it was? It was an order to kill the Crown Prince! The Lady saw it.”

At the testimony about the assassination order, the Rev brothers stiffened.

Instinctively, they tightly gripped Clade’s shoulders.

“And then she left. Where? To the palace. Why would someone near death deliberately go to the palace?”

Hire shook his head in disbelief, tears streaming down his face.

Even now, he couldn’t accept that the woman who had thrown him a gold bar and told him to run had dragged her sick body into the tiger’s den.

“She left because she was ordered from the start. She fled before suspicion fell on her.”

“The Lady went to kill Prince Bollonico the First—the one who issued that order. Don’t you understand?”

Frustrated, Hire shouted at Eddie, who still refused to believe him.

***

It felt as if he were stuck in thick, viscous mud.

His head pounded as if struck repeatedly by percussion instruments, utterly mashed and disoriented.

Clade, still half-drunk, stretched out a long arm and groped around.

The rustling sensation was now quite familiar—the texture of his blanket.

His long lashes fluttered open in an instant. The intense southern sunlight stabbed into his dazed eyes.

Clade scowled sharply, suppressing the rising nausea as he sluggishly leaned back against the headboard.

Shaking his head a few times, the orange sunlight piercing his retina scattered and broke apart across his springy golden hair.

Soon, a vicious hangover and headache slammed into the back of his skull.

He had drunk particularly heavily yesterday. Since becoming a Sword Master, both external and internal injuries healed at incredible speed, making this sensation rare.

Clade lifted his head, squinting again at the stabbing sunlight.

He habitually scanned the barren room, devoid of any decoration—then suddenly stiffened like a fish impaled on a harpoon.

Only now did he remember: last night, completely drunk, he had left the townhouse and headed to the underground prison where the pirates were locked up.

And then…

Clade checked the time and shot upright.

Scenes flooded into his mind—Hire’s desperate cries, Eddie’s cold responses, Lancelot’s tearful eyes.

Was it a dream? Or reality? Since he always had nightmares after sleeping, confusion overwhelmed him.

He stepped down from the bed, tossed off his indoor clothes, and quickly pulled on the outfit carelessly draped over the chair.

Like a man with fire at his heels, he bolted toward the door and grabbed the handle, twisting it.

But only a metallic clicking sound came—the handle wouldn’t turn further.

It had been locked from the outside. Soon, Eddie’s voice seeped in.

“Where are you going.”

“What the hell is this?”

“You’re not going anywhere today.”

“Are you joking?”

Clade, incredulous, clutched his splitting head and furiously twisted the knob again.

“Where are you going? I’m asking you, Clade Euphris.”

Where was he going?

What did they think he was trying to do?

Only now did Clade begin to feel the words that had poured from Hire slowly resurfacing from the depths of his deep sleep.

Ill. Terminal. Went to kill Bollonico. Left.

Eddie’s voice, scoffing and rebutting in the background, also returned in fragments.

Nonsense. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Traitor.

Clade’s eyes darkened.

From outside the door, Eddie’s firm voice came again.

“Going to check? To see if Yuan Pelliese is really sick?”

When Clade silently twisted the knob twice more, Eddie added, grinding his words.

“It’s too late, Clade. That woman already left the south. Early this morning.”

Sensing Clade freeze, Eddie coldly added.

“Get a grip, Clade. Most of your new allies from yesterday are still staying at the townhouse. You really want them to see you chasing after some woman?”

Eddie, standing firmly against the door, suddenly heard a sharp crack—then watched the doorknob fall to the floor.

In an instant, Clade emerged—dark circles under his eyes, his gaze sharp and intense.

Without a word, Eddie instantly knew Clade was going to see Yuan Pelliese.

“No. I can’t let you go to that woman just because of some traitor’s words. Did you forget? Even if that doctor’s words were half true—then that doctor was sent by Bollonico! He admitted it himself! Who knows if they’re still in contact? You really believe she entered the palace to kill Bollonico? Then why is Bollonico still perfectly fine? If she was truly ready to die, she’d have plunged a sword into his heart. You think she didn’t have chances? She spent nights with him in the palace multiple times!”

“Eddie!”

Lancelot screamed, startled by the commotion, but Eddie didn’t stop.

“If you go to see Yuan Pelliese, what happens to Ariesta? Even if you don’t intend to get deeply involved, you shouldn’t make enemies! Are you going to drag the Grand Duchess into scandal again? This kind of reckless behavior isn’t good for Ariesta, for you, or even for Yuan Pelliese. How can you charge ahead without thinking? Do you want her to suffer more, Clade Euphris? Do you really believe that fairy-tale story—that she walked into the tiger’s den, sacrificing her life for you, after barely spending a few months together?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then why—?”

“I need to confirm the truth. That doctor wouldn’t have dared come to me just to tell lies.”

Eddie, momentarily stunned by Clade’s stubbornness—still sounding drunk—blocked his path.

“You’re doing this now. What do you think Bollonico or Igor would say if they saw you? You’re showing exactly what your enemies want. There’s the Empress, there’s Noel Euphris. This is when you should be cautious! Absolutely not—”

Suddenly.

Eddie’s feet left the ground.

“Clade!”

It was Lancelot’s scream, filled with terror.

Eddie stared at Clade’s hand gripping his collar, unable to breathe.

Clade’s violet eyes, clearly not listening to a word of his shouting, glared at him like he was staring at the man who killed his parents.

“Talk.”

“You… this bas—”

“Stop yapping and speak. You know it.”

Lancelot, trying to intervene, was shoved aside by Clade’s other hand.

“Tell me before I storm straight into the Marquis’s mansion.”

Cold commands rained down on Lancelot gasping on the floor and Eddie, still gripped by the collar.

“Where is Yuan Pelliese.”