Male Lead Is Obsessed With My Health - Chapter 205

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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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205
Chapter

The night deepened, yet the fervor of the Imperial Ball showed no sign of waning.
If anything, with the festivities continuing until early morning, the true beginning of the ball was only just starting now.
Parties hosted by the Imperial Family always stirred up various topics and drew crowds, but tonight was different.
Tonight, people’s attention was not on Empress Azeni, who commanded absolute popularity, nor on Lord Sirua, who rarely appeared before nobility or the masses, nor on Prince Terion, beloved for his gentle charm.
The future of this nation—the one who had voluntarily journeyed to the Northern Fortress and returned after protecting Albrecht’s citizens from the threat of monsters, as the headlines proclaimed in bold—
Crown Prince Fession was that very man.
“Your Highness, good evening.”
“Good evening, Miss.”
Whether he did not feel the heavy weight of all eyes upon him, or whether it simply did not matter, he responded with flawless grace and a perfect smile.
“There will be more victims in his wake.”
Sirua, pressed into a corner to avoid pestering crowds, clicked his tongue as he watched his blood relative work the room.
Sure enough, the young ladies who had been entranced by Fession’s smile gradually found themselves pushed back by an invisible wall, drifting away one by one.
“Sister, try this. It’s delicious.”
“You eat more of it, Terion.”
“Where is brother? This is really good.”
Terion, who had been munching on finger foods in the Ball Hall, glanced around curiously.
Sirua, who had been toying with Terion’s soft cheeks, also scanned the hall alongside him.
‘Where did he go?’
As Sirua was considering whether to send someone to search the rather spacious Ball Hall, Fession returned.
“…?”
Sirua tilted his head at the sight of Fession, now radiating an energy utterly different from before—something subdued, something broken.
“Haha, Your Highness! Good evening!”
Those unfamiliar with Fession didn’t notice this shift; they continued their approach, greeting him, trying to build connections or at least make an impression, their efforts almost tearful in their earnestness. But Sirua knew.
He knew that these people were doing nothing but digging themselves deeper into a hole.
“Hmm. What a mess.”
Normally, he wouldn’t spare a thought for what others did to ruin their chances, but tonight, for some reason, it bothered him.
‘Ugh, I guess I’ll do a good deed for once.’

* * *

Sirua stepped in and extracted Fession from the situation.
Whether it was truly Fession who had been saved, or the people clinging to him, was anyone’s guess.
Normally, Fession would have ignored him outright, but his present state was hardly normal—he followed Sirua without resistance to the Private Room.
“Where’s Terion?”
“Huh, he was here just a moment ago. Guess he went to get more food.”
Fession clenched and unclenched his fist.
He grimaced, still feeling the sensation lingering on his skin.
Damn it.
Sirua watched silently as Fession pressed his palm to his forehead before dragging his hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing.
It was the gaze of someone measuring whether this Crown Prince—once the perfect heir, now a ticking bomb waiting to explode—might detonate at any moment.
“Did someone say something to upset you? Your expression is dreadful.”
“No.”
“Really?”
“…”
Fession’s face made it clear something was wrong, though he took measured breaths.
Sirua considered pressing further, then thought better of it.
When this man had glided through life with everything handed to him, laughing carelessly, he’d been merely insufferable. But watching someone so utterly complete fall apart like this, festering in his own ruin—it was pitiful.
Unaware of what occupied Sirua’s thoughts, Fession closed his eyes and recalled what had happened moments before.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what Your Highness is saying.”

Eyes trembling faintly. Confusion swirling within them. A voice that quavered.
If that was an act, she should have been a stage actress.
Though, to be fair, the profit from seduction was far greater than any stage could offer, so that explained her method.
He’d even warned her—don’t harbor foolish dreams—and ended the conversation cleanly. He should have shaken it off and forgotten her entirely. Yet the displeasure that clung to him refused to fade, gnawing at his nerves.
“Ha.”
A bitter laugh leaked from beneath his hand.
So displeasing, yet he had no idea how to purge this displeasure. Destructive impulses he couldn’t suppress spilled out as killing intent.
“What are you doing? You’re going to kill someone like that.”
“…”
“Relax your gaze. You’re frightening.”
“…I wish I had.”
Truly killed her, he meant.
Then it wouldn’t irritate him so deeply.
If only he’d known that sparing her life would grate on him like this.
Fession bit his lip as some indefinable feeling gnawed at his sanity.
The pain in his lip was nothing compared to the subtle, maddening itch eating away at his mental threads.
“Ha.”
Fession dragged his hands through his hair. Watching him loosen the necktie that choked him and then shrug off his jacket, Sirua’s expression grew graver still.
“You’re sane enough to stop that. Either leave or get a hold of yourself.”
“Hm. You noticed?”
Embarrassed, Sirua cleared his throat and turned the question back on him.
“Honestly, you look completely insane right now. You realize that, don’t you?”
“…”
Fession didn’t deny it.
Or rather, he couldn’t deny it—that would be more accurate.
“So what is it? What’s bothering you now?”
“…”
What’s bothering him?
She looked so much like her.
The thought burst forth unbidden, and belated shock slammed into him.
“Ha.”
Ha, damn it…
Displeasure bloomed intensely.
It was a sensation akin to revulsion.
At an obligatory ball, moving through people with mechanical courtesy, his heart had suddenly lurched when he caught an unmistakably brazen gaze—one he couldn’t ignore.
For a moment, he’d thought Arelin had returned to life.
He’d denied it immediately, knowing it was impossible, knowing it was his delusion, a futile wish, an impossible dream.
But even that brief taste of a sweet dream left a bitter flavor in his mouth.
“What really happened?”
Sensing that Fession’s disturbance was extraordinary, Sirua couldn’t resist asking.
“Nothing in particular.”
“Hmm…”
Suspicion flashed in his eyes, but Fession offered neither explanation nor excuse. He simply looked down, turning over the confusion he felt.
Everyone thought Fession had lost his mind, but his mind was as sound now as it always had been.
If anything, he was far too sane.
He simply—
Simply returned to that moment every time he closed his eyes.
To that instant when he’d gazed upon Arelin’s profile as she stared quietly out the window, holding his breath.
Whether he wished to escape it, tried to forget it, or wanted to move past it, he found himself returning to that place each time.
Standing there again, seeing Arelin, knowing it was his memory… yet moments that could never be undone, instants that could never return, were so achingly precious and sorrowful that he was left wandering alone like a child.
Only after losing Arelin did Fession come to understand loneliness.
As the years accumulated, he learned of the solitude that had shrouded Arelin.
Through her eyes, her gestures, sometimes her words—the fatigue and fear, the anguish and sharp pain she conveyed without words.
And finally.
Fession understood the weight of the emotion Arelin had spoken aloud—that she loved him—which he had failed to comprehend at the time.
So time had passed.
Yet every memory remained vivid and clear, untouched by fade, so that upon waking, the reality seemed like a dream beside the brightness of recollection.
“…”
Fession pressed his palm hard against his weary eyes.
His spirit wouldn’t sleep easily, yet his body—long since transcended ordinary limits—remained perfectly intact.
It was the same even through endless combat. There had been a time when exhaustion carried him into sleep, though he often woke to nightmares.
The more he pushed, the faster his body strengthened, as if tempered in fire.
Fifteen years had already passed.
Time that felt both long and short. Each day was unbearably lengthy and painful, yet a year slipped away in an instant. Fifteen years had vanished in that manner.
How much longer could he endure?
“…Arelin.”
I miss you.

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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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