The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 28

Not every child was like that, but sick children were usually ill-tempered. Why would a child, who should be running and playing at this age, be in good spirits when confined to bed, forced to swallow tasteless medicine?

Peter was even more so, having spent his entire illness alone.

His body, unable to control its magic, constantly damaged everything around him, and each time Peter suffered a seizure, he had to be isolated in a room warded with preservation magic.

At regular intervals, food and medicine were left outside the door. The boy fetched them himself.

Sometimes, when he saw a tray left beside him, he knew the Former Emperor had visited while he slept.

After all, the Former Emperor was the only one in the imperial palace who could withstand the boy’s magic.

He’d heard that an emperor’s consort inherited part of the emperor’s magic and life force, becoming similar in constitution—so if Peter’s mother had still been alive, she surely could have stayed by his side.

‘I miss Mother.’

But Peter’s mother had passed away when he was very young. All he had was a father whose temperament was far from human, and who was even descending into madness. Still, Peter felt relieved whenever he saw a tray placed beside him. Even the rare moments when his father came to see him gave the boy comfort.

Because it made him feel he wasn’t alone.

Thus, when Peter was sent to the Hessen County estate, he sank into deep depression.

‘Father has finally abandoned me.’

They claimed it was for his convalescence, but how could this place possibly have better facilities or physicians than the imperial palace? Peter believed his father had used convalescence as an excuse to discard him entirely. In his mind, he even pictured himself spending the rest of his life alone here, ending his days in utter solitude.

Sure enough, the mansion was warded with preservation magic. Moreover, the servants’ quarters and the room where the boy stayed were completely isolated from each other.

Still, he’d harbored a faint hope—since they called it convalescence, perhaps things here would be different. But that hope froze solid the moment he saw the mansion’s vast, empty interior. No one would notice even if he had a seizure or babbled deliriously from a high fever.

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