The Maid With a Child - Chapter 14

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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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14. Pain and Itching
Adlen hastily cast his eyes downward.
Even for a man, he’d been staring far too openly at someone else’s body.
Fortunately, his master let it pass without comment.
“How is this not bothering you at all?”
The Butler spoke with considerable firmness, pressing himself against Rakalte’s side.
His face was as grave as a surgeon overseeing an operation as he carefully peeled away the layers of bandages and adhesive plasters stuck haphazardly across the wound.
The weight of the moment drew Adlen’s gaze back toward Rakalte, stealing glances despite himself.
“Hah!”
The wound was far larger and deeper than he’d expected. Bright crimson edges gaped open, and blood was still seeping through.
Adlen flinched as though the wound were on his own body, squeezing his eyes shut.
Rakalte found this amusing and let out a soft laugh.
Could anyone truly be this fearful?
“It will take considerable time to heal, sir. Perhaps we should call for a physician now—”
“No need.”
“But if infection sets in—”
“If word spreads that my injuries are severe, it’s nothing but an open invitation for them to come at me with renewed determination. Within the Mansion’s walls, perhaps, but beyond them—every creature with eyes watches me. I must assume that much.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Listening to the exchange between his master and the Butler, Adlen hesitantly raised his gaze.
It was his master who was hurting, not himself.
‘So my master does feel pain after all…’
He wasn’t immune to suffering—he was simply enduring it.
The realization made him contemplate anew how arduous a general’s life truly was. It should have been obvious, of course, but the battles never unfolded before his eyes, so he’d failed to imagine them.
“I shall begin treatment now.”
The Butler set about his work in silence.
Adlen watched from the corner of his eye, stealing glimpses of the procedure.
“…?”
After observing for some time, Adlen’s head tilted sideways.
Though he was no medical professional and couldn’t speak with authority, something about this didn’t seem right even to an untrained eye.
Disinfectant slathered on so thickly it ran in streams, adhesive plasters applied carelessly and far too thick, bandages left loose and slack.
Even before they’d been removed, he’d sensed something shoddy about the work.
It wasn’t the natural loosening that came with time—it was the consequence of the Butler’s poor technique.
Could this possibly work? Would the wound even heal this way?
Adlen wrestled with himself a hundred times before finally raising his hand.
“Um, pardon me. Would it be all right if I gave it a try?”
The Butler, who had been laboring with the bandage pressed to his forehead, perspiring heavily, spun around.
“What? Adlen, you know how?”
“…”
Not a single polite refusal had crossed his lips.
The Butler was equally aware of how terribly he’d been bungling the task.
“I’ll… I’ll give it my best, sir.”
Adlen didn’t exactly possess genuine skill, but he felt confident he could manage it more competently than the Butler.
The Butler, as though this were exactly what he’d been waiting for, handed over the bandage and stood.
Adlen carefully laid the Baby down on the sofa and approached Rakalte.
“Forgive my presumption, sir.”
Rakalte watched with keen interest.
So the coward who’d fainted at the sight of blood was volunteering to tend to bleeding wounds now. Was he hoping to earn points somehow?
Whatever his motive, it was admirable nonetheless.
Adlen steeled himself, gripping his trembling hands as he drew close to the wound site. He’d stepped forward on impulse, but now he had to actually place his hands on his master’s bare body. He was shaking.
Trembling from the blood, trembling from the nakedness.
“…”
Yet as he examined the wound with quivering hands, even the trembling fell away, replaced by a deepening frown.
Up close, the injury was far deeper and more severe than it had appeared from a distance.
Moreover, beyond this fresh wound, his master’s body bore numerous scars scattered across its surface. Had all of these been left to heal haphazardly with nothing but perfunctory treatment?
Sigelion, Earl. The King’s Blade. Hailed as the greatest loyal retainer and finest general of Tepran—yet behind that luminous life lay a field of ragged wounds.
His master’s life wasn’t all radiance and beauty then. Everyone bore hardship in their own way, but he’d assumed those in such elevated positions lived only in happiness and splendor.
Yet here were countless scars marking a life of trial. How much suffering had his master endured to reach this point?
Seeing those wounds, Adlen felt anew that his master—once seeming as untouchable as a god, an existence utterly unlike himself—was human.
“I’ll begin disinfection again from the start.”
Adlen brought the disinfectant carefully to the wound. Or rather, he tried to.
The disinfectant hadn’t even touched his skin when Rakalte’s body flinched.
“Oh, does it hurt?”
But she hadn’t even touched the wound yet…….
Adlen looked up in alarm.
His master was staring down at her with his face heavily creased in displeasure.
“It itches.”
Where Adlen’s bangs and breath had touched him was intensely ticklish.
At Rakalte’s complaint, Adlen let out an oh and shuffled backward on her bottom, putting some distance between them.
“……I apologize.”
Adlen held her head far back, stretching her arm out to apply the disinfectant to the wound, as if she’d suddenly aged.
When the disinfectant touched that gaping wound, it should have hurt terribly, but her master didn’t so much as flinch. He maintained his impassive expression with the detachment of someone observing another’s flesh.
The only visible movement had been that earlier twitch when her hair brushed him.
He was a peculiar man.
To find tickling more unbearable than pain.
So Adlen, determined to exploit her master’s weakness, scrubbed the disinfectant on with deliberate vigor.
Thanks to her efforts, the wound was thoroughly disinfected.
And somehow, the psychological trauma Adlen had developed from hearing threats about dying the whole time began to heal a little.
Revenge was the finest form of therapy.
* * *
Humans, so long as they lived, adapted to anything.
Within days, both Adlen and the Baby had begun to accept their new surroundings.
“Butler, about this. Last night’s diaper……. I’d be grateful for your help.”
“……All right.”
She was beginning to see how her master’s life operated.
How one uses those who serve varies from household to household. Some have their attendants serve them by section, from head to foot, or by purpose — while others won’t allow a single hair to be touched.
Her master fell into the latter category.
He managed his own grooming and personal care entirely, delegating only minor tasks like room tidying through the Butler.
Now Adlen’s requests had been added to that list.
There was no help for it — she was confined to the room and couldn’t move about freely.
“And what else do you need?”
“Well…… and…… I don’t suppose I could ask for a glass of juice……?”
“…….”
“I’ve been chasing the Baby around for the past hour on my hands and knees, and now my hands and feet are shaking…… Is that all right……?”
“Understood. Wait here.”
At first she’d been too nervous to ask for anything and had just endured, but now she’d progressed to the point of at least voicing her requests.
“……Thank you.”
Sipping the juice he brought straightaway, Adlen finally caught her breath.
The room had become so familiar to the Baby that it shrieked and rolled across the floor. After hours of this, it had finally entered naptime.
“Your master should be back soon. It’s lucky the Baby fell asleep right on schedule.”
Though her master had commanded them to share the room, she felt anxious whenever the Baby squealed or cried.
After days of observation, his routine proved to be as precise as clockwork.
He rose before dawn, groomed himself simply, conducted personal training, and spent the night reviewing reports and communications that arrived from various provinces. After that, he attended to his duties with the Knights Order. He took his meals outside.
Then in the afternoon, as the day lengthened, he’d return and spend time on personal pursuits.
That personal time was devoted entirely to study.
Study.
Adlen had never met an adult who continued studying unless they were a scholar.
According to the Butler, since childhood he had never laid down his studies in Military Strategy and the management of his house.
After that, he either conducted evening training or, on days when summoned by the King, visited the Royal Palace. On those palace days, he sometimes returned very late. Such was the only variation in his daily life.
“It’s strange that he doesn’t rest at all, even after being away at war for so long.”
“I’ve watched him my whole life and still find it strange.”
“Really, isn’t it? Besides the Knights Order and the Royal Palace, he doesn’t seem to have any other obligations.”
“Sigh…….”
She had no friends either, but her master was nobility. Don’t most nobility stake their lives on social engagements?
“That’s exactly why I’m fit to burst!”
“?!”
The Butler suddenly struck his chest and cried out.

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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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