Understanding the Subject Matter of a Delusional Person 43

#43

Ersen’s face was pale. His hair was soaked with sweat down to the tips, and fine trembling remained above his eyebrows.

He was still lying with his back against the pillow. A few strands of hair clung to his cheek, and moisture had spread around his nape.

Did they say antidotes are also poisonous?

The characteristic herbal smell of the antidote still lingered in the room, and residual heat could be felt below his chest.

Perhaps due to those aftereffects, his whole body was slightly convulsing.

Those movements weren’t regular. The line of his arm visible below the blanket trembled as if breaking occasionally.

Each time, his fingertips visible under the blanket flinched.

His fingers bent and straightened once or twice, brushing against the thin fabric, and the movement of each joint repeated faintly.

The reason Skyle had gone so far as to heal him with light magic was likely not for Ersen’s sake, but because he knew conversation would be impossible in that state.

He’s someone who takes practical measures without unnecessary emotional expression. His purpose is clear, and he prefers efficient choices.

Theodore also thought that was rational, but…

The thought was soon accompanied by discomfort. Because that rationality in this current situation felt like it was based on some emotion more complex than what he had conceived.

“Tell me exactly what you’re trying to obtain.”

Theodore’s voice fell clearly. It was calm, but a straight sentence that was no longer blurred.

If he was going to be rational, it would be better to be properly rational.

Vague words couldn’t control this situation.

“Huh?”

Ersen blinked his eyes long as he answered.

“Don’t pretend to be dumb. You understood everything.”

Theodore shot back coldly.

“What I mean is.”

It was Skyle who added to the end of the sentence.

Ersen flinched when he saw Skyle showing a warning smile while laughing “huh.”

That laugh wasn’t long, but it contained a clear message. Skyle smiled, drawing soft curves while tilting his head slightly.

Certain. That bastard was particularly weak to Skyle.

Theodore concluded inwardly. That reaction appeared in similar ways now and before, and today it was especially distinct.

Could it really be that his appearance suits his taste?

He thought to himself and turned his gaze away.

With such thoughts flowing, Theodore continued speaking decisively.

“Half-demons? No. Exactly what you want is a ‘treasure,’ isn’t it?”

Flinch.

It was a subtle but clear reaction. His eyelid trembled once with a flutter, and his fingertips contracted very slightly inside the blanket. His fingertips that had been resting at the edge of the blanket pushed the fabric away. His body was still lying down, but it was a reaction as if his nerves had surged at a single word.

At the definite positive reaction, Theodore pressed on without giving him time to think.

He didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head very slightly and continued speaking in a low tone with his gaze fixed straight ahead. His voice was cold, the pace was steady, and it was a sharp sentence that departed from the format of a question.

“Gray treasure.”

Just two syllables tightly constricted the air in the room. Ersen’s subtle reaction followed immediately.

Now he even opened his mouth slightly and looked at Theodore.

That gaze was different in quality from before. A reflexive gaze of unknown surprise or bewilderment. It silently revealed that somewhere deep in his heart had been firmly touched to the point where he couldn’t immediately produce an answer.

“What is it that makes you risk your life to rush toward it?”

Theodore’s tone was low but firm. He crossed his arms with a neat posture, cutting off his words sharply as he asked.

“Hmm… I have no obligation to tell you?”

Ersen slowly tilted his head back slightly and spoke with force, but his voice still trembled unstably.

“Your mouth works well for someone with a hole in it.”

A single short sentence thundered in the room. Theodore’s eyes narrowed faintly, and one corner of his mouth moved sharply.

“Theo.”

Skyle slightly stopped Theodore’s words from becoming rough.

His voice was gentle but firm, lowering the tension in the room momentarily.

Then he looked at Ersen with eyes mixed with coolness and put on a subtly gentle expression.

His gaze softened, and the angle of his lips slowly relaxed. While his features maintained neat lines, his nearly expressionless impression changed to faint compassion.

Theodore closed his mouth pretending to calm down as soon as he saw that.

Even within the expressionless face, the flow of emotion was readable. Though his words stopped, the subtle impression remaining at his lips still wasn’t erased.

And as he expected, Ersen’s eyelids fluttered when he saw the Archduke’s worried expression.

His pupils shook slightly, and his lower eyelashes touched his cheek before falling away. For a very short time, his gaze was fixed on the Archduke’s face.

“Your Highness.”

His words were low and careful.

“…Yes?”

Theodore reflexively turned his head.

“Do you know that when I saw you coughing up blood earlier, I almost rushed out without realizing it?”

Those words were quiet, but unexpected. The room became quiet for a moment.

“…Rush out? Where? To the ballroom?”

Ersen’s words were cut short and contained doubt.

“I was going to go to Your Highness.”

Skyle said this without turning his head, deliberately keeping his gaze lowered to the floor for a moment.

Ersen blinked blankly.

In that moment, the air in the room relaxed just a little. His pupils moved slowly, and his gaze consciously lingered on the Archduke’s fingertips.

Seeing that he was speaking quite well, it seemed the antidote’s effects were taking hold to some degree.

The color of his lips had returned just a little, and his breathing had become more regular than before. His speech was less scattered, and he showed the leisure of continuing conversation while catching his breath here and there.

Skyle again pressed a handkerchief to Ersen’s face to wipe away the cold sweat.

The movement was quiet and familiar. The handkerchief’s weave was fine, and his hand maintained a natural angle from wrist to elbow. The pressure touching his skin was minimal, and he slowly moved the cloth over his sweat-beaded forehead.

“Wouldn’t anyone be like that if someone around them was in such a state? Actually, it’s also a scene I personally didn’t want to see, so I unconsciously clenched my fist tightly.”

Skyle’s words continued at a steady pace. He slowly folded the handkerchief he had been holding until just before, maintaining a tone that wasn’t heavy.

“…Arch, Archduke.”

Ersen’s voice was small and trembled somewhere.

“When you collapsed, I thought Your Highness had died.”

After those words ended, the room became quiet.

In fact, there was no lie in what Skyle was saying.

He had certainly felt that way, and it was a reaction that was neither calculated nor performed.

His fist had clenched without him knowing. Momentarily, he had been inwardly flustered by his own reaction.

The memory of briefly stopping while looking down at his own hand. That had been reflexive.

He knew the reason for that reaction. Because he had been breathless, as if some old event was being reenacted. The moment Ersen’s body swayed, someone who had collapsed before his eyes overlapped.

His consciousness denied it, but his body had reacted first.

However, what was incomprehensible was that the other party was Prince Ersen II.

That reason still couldn’t be explained.

Hiding that doubt, Skyle gently stimulated the prince who was becoming weak toward him.

His words were affectionate, his gaze was soft, and his fingertips lightly brushed away the sweat on his cheek.

“I was very surprised.”

Low, clear words that followed.

“Archduke. I, I’m sorry…”

Ersen’s words were slowly buried.

Skyle unconsciously raised the corners of his mouth genuinely.

He recalled him behind the curtain, easily pulling his body away from his touch.

The scene of hiding his body between soft fabric, forcibly avoiding his touch. Under the shadow that the light couldn’t quite reach, Ersen was losing the color from his face like someone dying. He breathed shallowly and shrank his body as if avoiding the approaching fingertips. When Skyle reached out toward him, he stubbornly stepped backward, and that scene remained in Skyle’s memory as a solid impression.

The prince who had stubbornly avoided him with a dying expression.

That reaction wasn’t simple wariness or shame. It was an attitude of trying to lift trembling eyebrows, suppressing rising pain, and not wanting to be caught in danger. Nevertheless, his body couldn’t be deceived, and only his will to avoid was clearly revealed.

After confirming that Prince II still reacted unusually toward him, a strange satisfaction bloomed.

Though it wasn’t an emotion that showed prominently, Skyle could detect it. The fact that someone reacted specially was evidence of a certain priority.

There was nothing wrong with it.

Whatever that emotion was, whether that reaction was unconscious or intentional, the attention given to him was never a bad thing.

Even if he felt satisfaction from this, it wouldn’t harm Skyle himself.

There was no need for anything to change based on that reaction, nor was there any need to interpret emotions unnecessarily. However—wasn’t the fact that eyes directed toward him wavered even within emotionless acting interesting?

Thus Skyle was enjoying it to his heart’s content.

He could smile silently, nod slightly, and act while interpreting the situation completely differently.

Author: Hyacinthus B

Hyacinthus