Surviving as a Terminally Ill Heiress - Chapter 36

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

Chapter 36

‘Genie!’
Genie hung in the air beside him, looking bewildered.
Was he a suspicious person? Should I cry out?
But if I did, I might hurt Genie.
Trapped between two impossible choices, I stood rooted to the spot.
Then a spring breeze blew. It carried the scent of blossoms from somewhere, stirring the boy’s robe, and—
Our eyes met.
I’d always thought the phrase “time stood still” was terribly clichéd.
Could it be he’d used Magic?
And then the boy smiled.
All at once, a conversation with my mother came back to me.
‘You know, the day I first met your father. When he looked at me and smiled… there was the scent of flowers.’
‘That makes sense. You were at a festival where flowers were everywhere.’
‘No, I’m telling you it was real! There are people like that in this world!’
My mother, growing passionate, had whispered tenderly to me despite my cool indifference.
‘You’ll meet someone like that one day, too,’ she’d said.
Well, Mother.
There really is a person whose smile smells like flowers.
Isn’t that something? Is it because he’s so beautiful?
I’d lost myself in staring before I knew what was happening.
The boy spoke through full, crimson lips.
“What’re you staring at, you—”
This flower-like fool?

* * *

While I sputtered in shock, the boy set Genie down and vanished into thin air.
We returned safely in the end, but—
‘I’m furious!’
My anger wouldn’t subside.
On the day love bloomed in Saint Flora, all that blossomed in me was my own vile temperament.
I spent the night awake with open eyes, and by morning I was still seething.
As I brought my hand down hard on Shasha’s rump, pap-pap-pap, the maids exchanged nervous glances.
“We’ve never seen Miss angry like this before…”
Right. I’d never acted this childishly either.
Normally I kept a cool exterior—indifferent to this, indifferent to that.
But for some reason, my emotions had spun wildly out of control.
Why—was it his face? His face?
Is it because he swore at me with a face so otherworldly it shouldn’t exist, and now I can’t forget it?
If that’s what this is—!
‘There’s nothing I can do about it.’
It felt like being a helpless human caught in a natural disaster.
That face was truly impossible—absurd in its beauty.
Like a child born of an angel and a demon merged together.
I was enchanted. Utterly spellbound.
So much so that I’d only just now realized he was wearing an Eye Patch over one eye.
What color was his hair? The visible iris seemed to be a deep blue.
His robe was pulled low over his head so I couldn’t see clearly, but there was something about him that carried the scent of the sea—the sea I’d only ever heard rumors of…
“Ugh!”
I let out an exasperated cry at the empty air.
There I was again, sinking deep into thoughts of him without meaning to.
Self-loathing and exhaustion hit me at once.
I released Shasha, startled by my shout, and collapsed onto the sofa.
The maids, fearing sparks might fly, had already fled the room.
I breathed out a long, heavy sigh and slapped my cheeks with both hands.
“Get a hold of yourself, Ravine Ambrose.”
If it were even some shallow noble child, it would be different.
But not now. Not when you should be thinking about a man’s face like some fool.
One person is trying to use you.
Another is trying to humiliate you.
In this harsh world, you’re responsible for your money, your sister, your very life!
And besides—
‘You might not even have long to live!’
At last my mind snapped back into focus.
The boy’s shimmering face vanished completely.
Right now, my own life had to come first before anything else.
I looked for a mirror.
The wound on my forehead, which had kept the maids on edge while it lingered, was healing quickly.
‘Without Scott’s Ointment, but thanks to Morgan’s diligent care?’
It was truly a blessing that Morgan came.
I smiled warmly, gazing toward the Medical Center.
Right—what could be harder than being ill?
I just hope some miracle happens and we suddenly find a cure for the Wax Plague!

* * *

Life is harder than I thought. The world holds suffering I’d never imagined.
In the end, I went to Duke Ambrose with a haggard face and made a request.
“I’d like to have an aide too.”
Just someone to manage correspondence and my schedule would be heaven.
I’m dying under the weight of all this attention pouring in.
I’d worried I’d be cast out of society for overturning that table once, but it turned out I was in demand.
Of course, it wasn’t demand I particularly wanted.
The Duke simply shrugged, saying I could do as I pleased.
“Can’t handle it alone, then? Can’t be helped.”
Irritating.
I glared at him before asking, “Where would you recommend finding one? They’d need to be clever and trustworthy.”

“Someone like that would usually come from the Academy…”
Duke Ambrose paused, then asked, “Do you want to go?”
To the Academy?
I answered without hesitation.
“No.”
Why would I waste time there when I could be making money?
The Duke nodded, his expression saying exactly the same: ‘Why would you waste time there when you could be making money.’
We understand each other too well. How irritating.
Still, there were things that could only be learned and experienced at the Academy.
“But I’d prefer my aide to be Academy-trained.”
“That has its advantages,” the Duke agreed readily.
Experience is important, of course, but my body is one and my time is limited.
I can’t experience everything this world has to offer myself.
So where I fall short, I’ll fill the gaps with talent.
“I’ll post an announcement. Make it dramatic.”
And so my aide recruitment notice in the Snare Journal included the phrase: “Academy graduates preferred.”

* * *

The day of interviews finally came after much anticipation.

Shimmering silver hair and eyes, delicate features, and an orderly presence.
Quite the aristocratic-looking person.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Orca Alpen.”
Ah, and such a pleasant voice too.
The moment I heard his brief self-introduction, I stifled a laugh.
When he’d said his name, it was unmistakably accented in Ritze.
‘Not again.’
Of the seven previous candidates, two had already approached me this way.
The first had gone on mid-conversation to suddenly announce that his grandmother was from Ritze.
At the time, I’d been pleased enough to ask exactly which region.
It had reminded me of studying the old Ritze maps my mother had drawn as a child, memorizing territory names and characteristics.
If I’d simply said I wasn’t sure, it would’ve been fine, but he’d shown obvious panic.
His face was clearly lying.
After he’d slunk away awkwardly, the interview continued with a strange discomfort until another distinctly different candidate appeared.
“Hello there!”
A cheerful greeting in Ritze Language.
And then out poured a story flowing like a clear stream—something about growing up like family with a neighbor from Ritze, even thinking he himself was Ritze as a child.
His voice was so shamelessly brazen that I’d had to look out the window again.
It was still broad daylight, yet I was hearing an evening greeting.
That meeting ended there as well.
And now this third one—yes, I’ll admit it.
‘It was the most convincing yet.’
It was just a name, but his accent had been completely natural.
If I were meeting someone like him for the first time, I’d have been easily fooled.
“That doesn’t make sense to me,” I said suddenly in Ritze Language.
Orca blinked at my unexpected words.
He seemed startled not to understand what I’d said.
Whether or not he understood, I was fed up enough to continue muttering to myself with a sigh.
“Why do people tell these lies? Wouldn’t it be better if you just said honestly that you wanted to make a good impression, so you looked into Ritze? Then I’d be impressed and give you bonus points. I really can’t understand it.”
“Perhaps people see honesty as a disadvantage?” Orca replied in Ritze.
“Exactly—that’s the very problem I’m talking about…”
Wait.
I stared stupidly at the man before me and asked, “You understand Ritze Language?”
“Ah, yes.”
“How? Are your parents Ritze?”
“Well, I can’t say for certain. I was raised in the orphanage of the Kand Territory—in what was once called Shardo in Ritze.”
I know it. Shardo—a territory in the northeast of Ritze.
Famous for mild weather year-round and bright sunshine. Its specialty: grapes. That led to the development of the wine industry.
And some twenty years ago, when the nation was torn to shreds, it was absorbed by the neighboring Atera.
When Orca was young, he probably hadn’t felt that place was part of Atera yet.
Moreover, if it was an orphanage, it would have been filled mostly with Ritze children orphaned in the chaos of losing their homeland.
Regardless of origin, they would have naturally acquired the language.

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