The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2

A method to extend one’s lifespan? At the tale that sounded like a miracle, Lowell frowned.

[…That’s absurd. Stop it.] [It’s true. So just until I come back. If you can hold on until next spring—] [I told you to stop!]

At last, Lowell’s patience reached its limit. She roughly shook off Peter’s grip on her wrist and shouted.

[You can say things like that only because you’re not in pain anymore! You’re completely healed! That’s why you can do anything now!] […Lowell.] [Do you know what my physician told me? He said it wouldn’t be surprising if I lost consciousness tomorrow. The maids who watch over me every night, terrified I might have another seizure, are utterly sick of this. I don’t want to suffer either, you know?]

She thought about it endlessly. What if I had a seizure in the night, and my life hung by a thread?

Would there truly be anyone who wished to save me?

Everyone had grown exhausted from her long illness. Those who had slowly been piling earth over the living Lowell now waited only to know when they should cast the final shovelful. They wondered when her breath would finally cease so they could cover her with that last layer of soil.

The medicine she swallowed daily tasted foul, and her feverish body brought constant pain—but what tormented Lowell most was the countless stares. It seemed as though everyone watching her illness wasn’t hoping for improvement but rather waiting for deterioration. Their pleas for her to get well soon and live long sounded instead like wishes for her to die quickly.

[Peter, you’re the same! You probably wish I’d just die already, don’t you? You’re only saying those things because you feel guilty about leaving me behind! You’ll forget me soon enough once you’re gone anyway—]

Her breath caught abruptly. Peter’s lips had pressed against hers. The brief kiss, parting as quickly as it came, felt no different than holding a rose petal in one’s mouth.

Only then did Lowell realize she was crying. Her cheeks were damp, and her tongue tasted salt.

Through her blurred vision, she saw the boy’s face—his expression pained despite feeling no pain himself. Those blue eyes, fixed solely on her as if nailed in place, were the same now as they’d always been.

[I won’t forget you, Lowell.]

A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped from her chin. Peter’s face grew slightly clearer. Though Lowell had never seen Peter cry, perhaps because her own eyes were wet, he now seemed to be weeping too.

[Wait for me. I will surely return to you… and save you.]

Could there be another confession as agonizing as this?

All Lowell knew about Peter was that he held a rather high status and that “Peter” was a nickname.

And that she was the one person he loved most in the world.

Peter was the only one who hoped for Lowell’s next year—when no one else expected her to live.

She would die before the magnolia could sprout new leaves. Like fallen magnolia petals, she would rot and crumble away. That was Lowell’s own premonition.

‘Do all people in love become this foolish?’

To hope for a next year she herself didn’t even believe in.

Anyone who truly cared for Lowell, weary from her long illness—even her own family, like everyone else—should have wished for her death.

Yet Peter asked her to live. Could there be a more selfish, more foolish request? Could there be words more pitiful yet more heart-stirring?

In the end, Lowell laughed through her tears.

[Alright. I’ll wait. I’ll try my best to live.]

It was a lie.

Only then did Peter smile broadly. The boy’s flushed cheeks made his smile resemble a dandelion seed—exquisitely beautiful.

Could that day’s conversation have had some effect?

Lowell, who had expected to die that spring, did not die. She even managed to see Peter off when he departed, and afterward, her condition gradually improved until she celebrated the Harvest Festival that autumn.

Then, in the final month of that year, the Hessen estate caught fire.

There were no survivors.

[This is the timeline separator]

When the Hessen estate caught fire, everyone inside perished.

“The fire broke out while everyone was asleep. By the time anyone noticed, the mansion was already nearly consumed by flames, leaving no chance to escape. They’re presumed to have died trapped within the inferno.”

This was the explanation given by the imperial knight dispatched to manage the situation. Not a single soul from the Hessen estate escaped the burning house; every last person had died.

Lowell sat numbly on the ground, listening to that mechanical report.

Though the imperial knight declared that all in the Hessen estate had perished, in truth, there was one survivor.

Lowell Hessen—the only person who had been outside the estate at the time of the fire, having gone to visit a physician.

She had been returning from seeing a renowned doctor in a distant region.

Had she arrived to find the house still burning, she might have rushed inside, searching desperately through the flames for something—anything—to do. But by the time Lowell arrived, everything was already over. Both the fire and the deaths.

The joy she’d felt upon hearing the doctor’s report that her condition had greatly improved collapsed instantly the moment she saw the burned-down estate.

‘It can’t be.’

It can’t be our estate. It must be someone else’s.

No matter how much she denied it, nothing changed. Though the wooden mansion had burned, the iron fence and gate remained intact. The Hessen family crest was still clearly engraved on the gate.

Even after the fire was extinguished, the air remained thick with smoke. Smelling the stench of death, Lowell sank to the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks without her even realizing.

Above her frozen thoughts, the imperial knight’s voice echoed mechanically.

A cold pronouncement: her mother, father, brothers, and all the servants—everyone was dead.

“…This is absurd.”

Lowell, who had been sitting motionless and silently weeping like a statue, suddenly stood up. She didn’t know where the strength came from, but in that moment, she forgot entirely about her own pain.

“Everyone died? Not a single survivor from that huge estate?… That doesn’t make sense.”

Because of her illness, Lowell had always stayed indoors and thus grew up sheltered from the ways of the world. Yet even she could sense something was off about this situation.

“There never was a time when everyone was asleep at once. They always took shifts—because they had to watch over me through the night…”

Lowell often suffered seizures during the night. Because of this, her parents always arranged for servants to take rotating shifts to keep watch after the estate was darkened.

Just because Lowell had been told she had only days to live didn’t mean years of established routine would vanish overnight.

“It’s absurd to claim nobody woke up while the mansion burned nearly to the ground. That not a single person escaped from such a large estate… how…?”

Lowell remembered vividly the time the village mill caught fire. That too had happened in the dead of night. She’d heard from the servants that people had soaked large cloths in water, wrapped them around themselves, and fled.

Even during that fire at the small mill, where only a few lived.

Yet not a single soul escaped this vast estate? Not even one?

That was impossible. Shouldn’t someone at least speak reasonably? How could there be absolutely no survivors?

Unless…

“Unless… someone locked the doors from the outside…”

Amid her chaotic thoughts, the sudden whisper brought Lowell’s mind to a sharp halt.

Only then did she find the answer to her doubts. It took but an instant for that murmur to solidify into certainty.

‘The imperial knight is lying.’

The imperial knight had blocked everyone from approaching the burned estate, claiming they needed to preserve the scene to uncover the truth—but how could anyone believe that?

Who knew whether they’d stood guard like that even as the estate burned, preventing anyone from escaping?

The realization instantly ignited into fury.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lowell leapt to her feet and lunged toward the imperial knight, ready to grab the liar by the collar and demand the truth.

“Ah.”

If only she hadn’t been stopped by that sudden hand.

Her rage, aimed at the imperial knight, instantly redirected toward the owner of the hand that blocked her. Lowell glared at him, ready to bite if he didn’t move his hand—but the moment she recognized who he was, her fury fizzled like a wildfire doused with water.

The man was an acquaintance.

A middle-aged gentleman who occasionally visited her father. With one arm, he gently restrained Lowell and spoke soothingly.

“Calm down, Anette. I understand how you feel, but this fire isn’t his fault.”

“…Anette?”

Startled by the unfamiliar name, Lowell involuntarily echoed it—but the gentleman was quicker.

“I shall apologize on her behalf, Your Grace. Please forgive the child’s rudeness.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace. Do you know this girl?”

“As you well know, the Hessen family and I were quite close. This child’s older sister worked as a servant in the Hessen household. I wrote her a letter of introduction myself, so you may recall. I happened to pass by and couldn’t simply walk on. Seeing how deeply grieved she is over losing her family, I hope you’ll understand her impertinence.”

“I see. Of course, I understand. Absolutely.”

Understand what? She was still seething inside, but Lowell couldn’t help but sneer at the imperial knight’s servility.

Just moments ago, he’d scowled and raised his armored hand toward an unremarkable-looking girl—but now, before a duke, he turned unreasonably gracious.

The middle-aged gentleman who had so timely intervened was Duke Jurgen Martinek.

As Jurgen himself had said, he frequently interacted with the Hessen family, and thus was quite familiar with Lowell.

By this point in the conversation, Lowell had already figured it out.

‘Calling me “Anette,” saying my sister was a servant…’

Jurgen was lying without batting an eye. She didn’t know why, but he was clearly trying to conceal her true identity.

But why?

Her question was answered quickly.

“The fire at the Hessen estate was arson.”