Everyone Was Obsessed With Me After I Became the Youngest Princess Favourite - Chapter 92

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“Confirm? Confirm what?”
In that instant, the Duke’s eyes gleamed with sharp intensity.
I swallowed hard, steadying my voice to keep it from trembling as I spoke.
“The sounds carried even outside the door. The Priestess and the mages can’t cure the Duchess either, can they?”
The efficacy varies depending on the Priestess, but fundamentally, holy power replenishes the vital essence of life.
Since it corresponds closely with a patient’s life force, healthy individuals experience miraculous healing speeds—wounds closing instantly or new flesh sprouting—but for those weakened by prolonged illness or extreme poison, it merely provides temporary invigoration.
Magic, unlike external injuries, proves equally ineffective against internal damage.
“Right now, the holy power has temporarily elevated the Duchess’s vitality, slowing the pace of her deterioration. Am I correct?”
I never imagined that all those hours spent diligently reading medical texts in the Main Residence Library and studying holy power would prove useful in this way.
It seemed my reasoning was sound—the Duke nodded, his expression hardening into grim acknowledgment.
“But that doesn’t mean there’s anything you can do about it.”
“The Duchess was always healthy before. She had no complaints whatsoever. Yet her condition has deteriorated so rapidly—I simply cannot understand it.”
I spoke gravely, observing the Duchess whose poor circulation had turned her fingertips, toes, and lips a sickly blue.
“This is definitely poison.”
“…!”
The Baron froze, his breath catching as his eyes widened in shock.
Yet the Duke’s expression remained composed, suggesting he had already entertained the possibility of poison.
“B-but! Your Grace, when we examined the Duchess’s body, there were absolutely no traces of poisoning. Of course, we would need to conduct further tests, but….”
“What if it’s a poison that wouldn’t show up even under examination?”
“That would be… but how could you be certain it’s poison….”
“Physician, why do you hesitate when the very cause remains unknown? Besides, I have a way to confirm whether the Duchess was indeed poisoned.”
The bewildered Baron’s eyes snapped open at my words.
“What method is that?”
Even the Duke, whose expression had been composed, leaned forward—his inner urgency betraying itself.
“Splecia.”
“Splecia?”
Both the Duke, unfamiliar with medicine, and Baron Bardo, the physician himself, blinked in confusion.
I exhaled slowly before continuing.
“As you know, Physician, Splecia is the legendary antidote herb said to neutralize any extreme poison. If we have the Duchess consume Splecia and observe her body’s response, we can naturally determine whether poison is present.”
Only then did the Baron’s eyes widen with understanding, followed swiftly by an expression of regret.
“Yes, Lia, you’re right—such a method does exist. But as you know, we’ve only just begun cultivating Splecia, and success is uncertain. Moreover, our foundational research into its medicinal properties remains incomplete. Using a plant as medicine requires extensive experimentation, and above all, to maximize efficacy without side effects….”
“I can do it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I can cultivate Splecia perfectly, and I also know how to process it into medicine to achieve the finest results.”
Though I cannot explain how such a thing is possible.
I opened my eyes, adding softly, and gazed at the Duke with desperate longing for him to believe me.
“Lia.”
After a long silence, the Duke slowly opened his mouth, as though a decision had crystallized within him.
“I believe you. My wife surely believed in you.”
In that moment, tears threatened to spill over.
I resolved to repay that faith without fail.
* * *
“Doctor! We need more Celan root.”
At Lia’s words, Baron Bardo nodded and moved quickly.
The Baron, who had immediately begun grinding the Celan root, momentarily froze upon seeing how the Splecia—which had only sprouted days ago—had grown as if it would bloom at any moment.
The Baron regarded Lia with fresh eyes as she wiped the sweat beading on her forehead.
Two days prior, the child who had stepped forward to create an antidote, suspecting poison, had secretly requested that all the Splecia from the Greenhouse be brought to the Preparation Room.
Concern had gripped him that such precious specimens might be wasted meaninglessly, yet the Baron had no choice but to obey the Duke’s command.
And then.
〈Ah, no! The Splecia…!〉
Contrary to his worries, the moment the child—eyes tightly shut—placed her hand upon the Splecia, the flower buds that had merely formed suddenly bloomed in full.
It was only later that he learned this transformation had occurred because Lia had directly infused her own mana into the Splecia.
The Baron, possessing no mana himself, did not comprehend how extraordinary such control truly was.
Yet he was not so foolish as to fail to recognize that this miraculous sight before his eyes was anything but ordinary.
“Doctor?”
“Ah! Yes. Here it is.”
“Then I’ll trouble you with the Splecia.”
Lia mixed the juice of the Celan root she had received with the already-prepared Splecia extract, concocting an antidote—she had lost count of how many times.
In truth, she had thought it would be simple since she had made it before.
Yet starting from the very first antidote made with Splecia brought from the Greenhouse, she had already experienced numerous failures.
Having exhausted all the Splecia cultivated with mana stones, Lia had been forced to begin anew from sprouting Splecia seeds.
Thus, the antidote she was now preparing contained Splecia nurtured entirely by her own mana.
‘I truly hope this one succeeds.’
As Lia stirred to ensure the Splecia and Celan root juice blended well, she silently prayed.
‘Please, let this antidote be effective. Please, let my lady regain her health.’
Yet due to the repeated failures, her heart remained utterly uneasy.
She could not fathom why this was happening now. In the past, limited mana had made cultivating Splecia difficult, but creating the antidote had succeeded on the first attempt….
“….”
Then, as an unbidden memory surfaced, Lia’s face contorted.
Long ago, Lia had carefully crafted an antidote for the Master.
Though she knew the Master was stronger than anyone and could never fall to poison, she had wished to repay even a fraction of the debt for his salvation.
After laboring so hard to create the antidote, she had felt oddly embarrassed and hastily thrust it into his hands before fleeing, yet she had wondered if the Master might have laughed softly as he always did.
Until the next day, when she discovered the glass vial she had gifted him discarded in the trash.
“Lia!”
At the Baron’s startled cry, Lia snapped back to awareness.
Realizing she had nearly dropped the antidote she was preparing while lost in thought, Lia’s face drained of color.
‘I’ve lost my mind. How could I let my guard down here?’
As Lia berated herself, the Baron’s expression grew pained.
“You haven’t slept properly in days, and you keep expending your mana—your body can’t take much more of this.”
The Baron sighed softly as he spoke.
“You’ll need a few hours to see the effects. Why don’t you get some rest?”
“…Then I’ll step outside for a moment to get some air.”
Lia, who had been ready to immediately prepare the next batch in case this one failed, felt her own condition was far from ideal and nodded in agreement.
Rising from her seat, Lia made her way to the Duchess’s Bedroom.
After exchanging a brief glance with Taize, who stood guard at the door, she stepped inside and found Allen and Diana slumped over beside the bed, fast asleep.
It appeared they had fallen asleep while massaging the Duchess’s swollen arms and legs, which had become puffy due to poor blood circulation.
Watching the two children standing with their shoulders drooped outside the bedroom door these past few days, their expressions so forlorn, made my heart ache.
‘If only the situation were better, I could have offered them even a single warm word.’
The fact that I couldn’t do so was deeply regrettable.
While my preoccupation with preparing the antidote left me little room to spare, I was also deliberately keeping my distance from Allen and Diana.
I had asked the Duke to keep it secret from everyone that I was creating a cure and that he planned to have the poison examined in Splecia.
I hoped it would not be revealed to the other physicians besides Baron Bardo, nor to the servants or anyone else within and around the Estate.
“If she truly was poisoned, then there must be a culprit who attempted murder. But if word spreads that I’m creating an antidote, I can’t predict how the perpetrator might react.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to make them anxious and force them to act directly? That way we’d be certain.”
“…But what if they don’t move?”
This was a matter of intuition.
Unlike the Duchess’s previous illness, which had confined her to bed for over half a year, her symptoms had deteriorated rapidly this time—I was nearly certain she had been poisoned.
Yet despite watching carefully by her side all this time, I couldn’t fathom when or how she had been exposed to the poison, no matter how hard I thought.
This led me to believe the culprit was an exceptionally cautious and deliberate person.
However, this time they had acted impulsively, and by now they likely had regained their composure.
‘So it’s better to let them lower their guard than to hope they’ll move again.’
Fortunately, the Duke had accepted my persuasion.
Thus, no one except Baron Bardo, the Duke, and Lucio knew that I was creating an antidote, and everyone else believed there was nothing to be done as the Duchess’s condition worsened day by day.
And that ‘everyone’ included Diana and Allen.
The children couldn’t lie, and since nothing was certain, I feared it would only torment them with false hope.
‘Will they feel hurt when they find out later?’
Even as I told myself it was unavoidable, I felt a pang of guilt.
At the same time, moved by how these children never complained and remained so well-behaved, I gently stroked each of their heads, carefully tucked a blanket around them, and left the room.
In that moment, my eyes sharpened.
Someone other than Taize was standing in the corridor.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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