I Proposed to My Childhood Friend After Regressing - Chapter 52

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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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After Regression, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend
Chapter 52
Before the regression, the first place Beatrice met Count Sharon was at a funeral.
It was the funeral of his youngest daughter, Clara Sharon.
Dressed in black formal attire, standing beside his daughter’s coffin, he never moved from that spot until the funeral ended.
He neither wept nor raged, nor accepted greetings from the guests who came to pay respects—standing there like a statue.
And so Count Sharon had remained in Beatrice’s memory as a solemn, weighty man.
“My goodness, Beatrice! I’m grateful you found time despite your busy schedule. Ah, were you startled that I called you by your real name? I heard it from our eldest daughter. But don’t worry! Your secret is our family’s secret. Everything concerning your true identity is safe.”
But he was not someone whose words pressed down with such weight.
Count Sharon, his beard trimmed with dashing precision, declined the maid’s offer to serve tea and poured Beatrice’s cup himself.
To be honest, Beatrice had never seen someone pour tea with such elegant flourish.
“Go on, have some.”
“Th… thank you.”
Beatrice took a sip of the deeply steeped tea and glanced up at the count.
The smiling count looked at Beatrice with the gaze one reserves for the most precious person in the world.
His eyes burned so intensely that she felt the weight of it, and Beatrice opened her mouth with an awkward laugh.
“I’m truly grateful for your generous welcome, Count. I heard you wished to meet me… was it perhaps about your daughter’s treatment?”
“Heh heh. They say children resemble their parents, and it seems you share the same straightforward nature as Hartwell.”
“Ah, do you have dealings with my mother?”
“Of course. How could we exclude the Hartwell family from grain dealings? Especially in a place like the Downer Marquis Territory.”
The count smiled gently and answered her question before moving straight to the main point.
“Your assumption is correct. The other day, I was speaking with the lord when Astrice came running and told me that you’d found a way to treat my second child.”
“Ah, yes… did you also hear from your aide that I wouldn’t yet call it a complete recovery?”
“Yes, I did. And right after hearing it, I pressed the marquis and young Cassian to show me the Separate Building.”
“Oh, I see you did.”
“I apologize for not informing you in advance and simply verifying for myself. But the patients truly… I could see them noticeably healthier. We exchanged only a brief greeting, yet shamefully, tears came to my eyes.”
The count’s lips trembled slightly, as if remembering it still caught in his throat.
After clearing his throat several times, the count clenched his fist and spoke with sincerity.
“Truly, I cannot thank you enough. I hear from young Cassian that you visited the Treatment Facility every day and labored tirelessly?”
“That is…”
“And in the village, you investigated late into the night whether dolls had any connection to the illness, and even got caught up in some turmoil.”
Respect and affection overflowed in the count’s eyes. She was curious what exactly he’d heard from his eldest daughter, Astrice.
“To be honest, when Astrice said the Empress herself had sent someone, I didn’t hold great hopes. But thanks to you, my child now has a chance at life.”
He met Beatrice’s gaze directly and added gravely as he offered his thanks.
“Beatrice, without exaggeration, if you ever need the power of our family, tell me anytime. I, and everyone in this household, will do our utmost. Whatever it may be.”
Ugh… uhh…
‘Well, I suppose I’ve managed to gain an ally… but this is heavier than I expected.’
Beatrice lowered her head in confusion at such weighty gratitude, more than she had anticipated.
Her conscience still pricked at hearing thanks of this magnitude.
“P-please, Count. Don’t say such things. I haven’t even formally begun treating your daughter…”
“No. The mere fact that a method exists is hope for us, regardless of whether she achieves full recovery. Both my wife and I, and even Astrice, have suffered knowing no way forward.”
“And… well, truth is, I can’t claim I did it all…”
Beatrice’s mind conjured the faces of the healers who had checked the patients’ conditions with her in the Separate Building and extracted the toxins from the Lumen Root.
While some of the Order were the true culprits in this matter, the monks who worked in the Treatment Facility day and night, caring for the patients, also…
Beatrice spoke her mind, her face flushed crimson.
“I really do, genuinely enjoy praise and recognition, you see? The reason I asked the Empress to send me to the Marquis Territory was because I thought I might find answers to the questions troubling me here.”
“So you were thinking of gain from the start?”
“Yes! So while I’m glad, I feel I still fall short of deserving thanks of this degree.”
“Ha ha, hahahaha!”
Count Sharon burst into laughter at Beatrice’s response. He spoke again, his eyes alight as if looking upon his own daughters.
“Your answer puts my mind at ease, actually. Someone who helps without seeking gain and accepts risk is one of two things.”
Either truly exceptional, or utterly untrustworthy.
“Beatrice, as someone who deals in commerce, I’m skilled at appraising people and undertakings. And we merchants sometimes pay for goods we haven’t received, hoping for far greater profit in return.”
The count smiled, gazing steadily at Beatrice.
“So think of this gratitude as an advance payment. And as for the efforts of the others you mentioned—of course, I’m well aware of their labor too.”
Count Sharon nodded.
“There are few tasks in this world that a single person can accomplish alone. The greater the work—like uncovering a disease that dwelt in complete mystery—the truer this becomes.”
…
“Yet however many people lend their strength to the work’s success, the process always has someone who first gripped the helm, someone whose name must be recorded.”
The count met Beatrice’s eyes gently and finished with a soft smile.
“You are the person at the center of this matter, Beatrice. So what can be done? Accept the advance payment despite the burden, and bear the weight. A small piece of advice, but learn to become shameless, Beatrice.”
And so the count explained why shamelessness became ever more essential the higher one climbed.
Like an elder teaching a child departing for war how to wield a weapon.
How long had this useful yet bewildering impromptu lesson lasted? A gentle knock interrupted, followed by a familiar voice cutting across the count’s words.
“How long does it take to convey thanks and pass along Clara’s wishes? Father, you’re giving a sermon in front of a guest.”
“Astrice!”
“Aide!”
“Heavens, my apologies, Beatrice. Our father gets carried away…”
“No, please. It was truly helpful advice.”
“I’m glad it was some comfort…”
Astrice fixed Count Sharon with a look of suspicion and sighed before speaking.
“In any case, if it’s been conveyed properly, that’s relief. I do hope you’re not feeling burdened. My sister Clara expressed her wishes quite strongly.”
“Burden? A strong will to recover is a good thing.”
“What?”
“…Oh? You weren’t speaking of her wishes about treatment?”
“No, I meant the part about follow-up research you discussed with Clyde. Clara said she wants to do it.”

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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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