The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 70

Peter was genuinely wondering whether Anette had truly intended to hide the fact that she was unwell. Whenever he touched Anette, Peter always had to exercise caution—she felt as though she might crumble into dust at the slightest pressure. Whether holding her in his arms or occasionally grasping her shoulder, she seemed to weigh less than a handful.

Undoubtedly, her prolonged illness had reduced her to this state. In Peter’s memory, Lowell had been just as emaciated as she was. His doll, so similar to his memories in nearly every detail, always twisted his thoughts into knots.

What exactly caused this turmoil? Was it because the woman before him was as gaunt as Lowell, who had once waited only for death? Or because memories resurfaced of having helplessly received a death notice without even a single chance to save her?

Or perhaps it was the illusion that this face, seemingly brushing against death itself, might vanish like sand slipping through his fingers at any moment.

Throughout the dance, Peter kept opening and closing his eyes, gripped by anxiety that the woman before him might disappear the moment he blinked. Perhaps it wasn’t merely because Anette was thin. After all, the von der Leyens were a family that desperately needed someone to obsess over.

Peter’s gaze settled on Anette’s arm, which he held. Her arm was so slender that his hand completely encircled it with ample room to spare.

“Are you naturally the type who doesn’t gain weight easily? Surely Mabel isn’t starving you.”

“Mabel says the same thing as Your Majesty—she insists I ought to put on a bit more weight.”

Lowell couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary laugh. In truth, Mabel wasn’t the only one saying this. René had said it too, as had Simoren and Debona. Keeping her illness hidden among them was rather difficult.

‘Debona probably hasn’t said much because she already knows I’m unwell.’

She recalled that as a child, every bite she ate seemed to turn straight into fat. But after being ill for so long, she’d grown accustomed to eating just enough to stay alive. Any meal that filled her stomach beyond necessity brought unbearable discomfort, and if she ever vomited, she could never bring herself to eat that food again.

“I’ve always been someone who eats little. Maybe it’s because I move around a lot despite that.”

“I’d prefer you did the opposite of both. If eating more is difficult, how about moving less?”

“It seems my advice to Your Majesty to be lazy and indulgent has come back to haunt me.”

Lowell left the banquet hall while exchanging playful banter with Peter. Now that the dance had begun, no one’s attention would remain fixed on Lowell and Peter anyway. Neither of them enjoyed balls, so no one would object to their decision to leave.

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