Villain Family’s Strongest Butler - Chapter 51

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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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54

When I touched my nose, blood stained my fingertips.
“What? Why…?”
I stared down at my bloodied hand in confusion when Celi cried out in alarm.
“No, no! Steward! A handkerchief! Please, use my handkerchief, Steward!”
Celi pressed her handkerchief into my hand and burst into tears.
To calm her, I pressed the handkerchief against my nose and spoke.
“It’s alright, Celi. Settle yourself. A nosebleed won’t kill me…”
Before I could even finish saying that a nosebleed wouldn’t kill me, the world tilted sharply around me.
What…?
‘What is this…?’
Everything blurred at dizzying speed, making my attempt to reassure Celi ring hollow. I shook my head gently from side to side, trying to clear the fog.
But then my legs gave way beneath me. It felt as though something was rising from the ground itself, wrapping around my body and dragging me downward.
‘Why is this happening…?’
I was going to collapse—
That was my last thought before I crumpled onto the dirt of the Garden.
There, my memory cut to black.

***

Kardrian’s Bedroom.
Kardrian watched Freya from his bed, her face drained of all color as she moaned fitfully.
His jaw clenched, and he turned to address the physician standing behind him, Lanerus.
“What is the meaning of this?”
His voice dropped lower than usual, and Lanerus, the Grand Duke’s physician, flinched visibly.
“I… well, there is no particular reason—”
“No reason? She bled from her nose and collapsed before my eyes! How can there be no reason!”
Lanerus trembled at the thunderous fury in Kardrian’s voice.
There had always been rumors that he was cruel, but in decades of serving as his physician, Lanerus had never truly witnessed such a display.
Yet now he could see how the Grand Duke transformed when genuinely angered. This must be what they meant by that bone-chilling wrath he’d only heard whispered about.
Lanerus swallowed hard several times before managing to speak.
“Perhaps… perhaps it is a matter of exhaustion accumulated over time.”
What? Kardrian turned sharply to face him.
“Exhaustion? Are you suggesting she coughs blood and loses consciousness merely from fatigue?”
Hmm? Coughs blood? Lanerus tilted his head slightly as he looked at Freya lying still.
‘But he said it was a nosebleed, did he not?’
Though it hardly seemed accurate to call it mere bleeding…
Still, even allowing for some exaggeration in the Grand Duke’s account, the phrase “mere exhaustion” seemed to warrant correction.
Lanerus swallowed dryly, gauging Kardrian’s mood with careful eyes.
“Your Grace, exhaustion is the root of all ailments, as they say. While I do not know every detail of Miss Freya’s schedule, everyone in the Grand Duke’s Estate knows that she has been managing Grand Duke’s Estate affairs while sacrificing her sleep.”
“…”
Freya slept less than an hour a day—rising earlier than anyone else and retiring later than anyone else.
She likely knew more about matters concerning the Grand Duke’s Estate than anyone else within its walls.
“And once the Grand Duke’s Estate business is finished, she still undertakes Sword Training, does she not?”
When Lanerus had discovered this fact, he had even sought out Freya to remonstrate with her.
If she did not rest properly, she would eventually ruin her health.
But Freya only drove herself harder, throwing herself into her training with even greater severity. She seemed like someone both fleeing from something and chasing something at once.
‘What must her heart endure—trapped in the Butler’s Grave, watched constantly, with no memory and no one who remembers her?’
Whenever Lanerus saw Freya scourging herself so mercilessly, his heart grew heavy. It was because she reminded him of his own daughter, who had left long ago.
And so he found her plight deeply pitiable.
Most likely, most of the servants in the Grand Duke’s Estate harbored similar feelings.
Lanerus lowered the corners of his eyes as he spoke.
“Your Grace… I believe this is Miss Freya’s struggle to survive in this place—in what is called the Butler’s Grave.”
No ordinary person could accomplish such things without difficulty, he was certain.
Lanerus bowed his head as he continued.
“No matter how much Aura one possesses, to drive one’s body to such extremes is difficult even for knights trained for years.”
Freya’s relentless schedule had persisted for two years now—since her days as a maid until now.
Others found it difficult to maintain such a schedule for even a week, let alone a month—yet she had endured it for two whole years.
If he did not intervene now, she would surely continue living this way indefinitely.
Lanerus turned his gaze toward Freya. His eyes were shadowed with profound concern.
“……The fact that she has endured this long is nothing short of miraculous, ……Your Highness.”
Lanerus poured out everything he had observed and felt from watching Freya all this time, leaving no room for regret.
‘Even if an imperial decree of displeasure fell, there would be nothing for it.’
One must save the person first.
‘Miss Freya may not heed my words, but if the Grand Duke himself were to intervene, surely she would pay greater attention to her own well-being.’
Lanerus lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
How much time had passed?
After a long silence, the Grand Duke finally spoke.
“Lanerus.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Prepare whatever medicines the Steward requires.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Instead of the rebuke he had steeled himself to receive, Lanerus heard the Grand Duke’s calm voice and lifted his head sharply.
Kardrian sat in a chair beside the bed, gazing quietly at Freya.
“From now on, you are to take responsibility for the Steward’s health.”
“Me, Your Highness? I am to——”
“Yes. Treat it as you would treat my own care.”
“…….”
Lanerus’s eyes widened slightly. He bowed his head and answered.
“As you command, Your Highness.”
“Prepare the medicines at once so that she regains her strength without delay.”
“Yes! Your Highness!”
Lanerus hastened from the room. With his departure, the bedroom fell into even deeper silence.
Only the faint sound of Freya’s shallow, pained breathing could be heard as she struggled to regain consciousness.
Kardrian opened his mouth, then closed it. There was much he wished to say, yet the words caught in his throat.
He carefully laid his hand over the back of Freya’s hand, which rested atop the blanket.
It was small and delicate.
“Yet for all she consumes……how can she still be——”
Why was it so small?
Kardrian furrowed his brow, murmuring softly.
Then, abruptly, he recalled something Lanerus had said moments before.
—”Perhaps it is Miss Freya’s struggle to survive in this place, which some call the Butler’s Grave.”
He had known. He watched her every day; he could not have helped but know.
Yet he had chosen ignorance.
Part of him had hoped she would break under her own exhaustion, hoped that in her solitary rampage, her true nature would emerge.
But Freya endured, and endured, until at last she collapsed.
Whether this counted as breaking under her own weight, he could not say.
Though the very situation he had longed for had come to pass, he could not fathom why his heart felt this way.
‘Before she lost her memory or after——’
Freya was the only person who disturbed Kardrian’s peace.
It was then.
Freya’s eyelids trembled faintly, then slowly lifted. Her blue eyes swept briefly across her surroundings before finding Kardrian, and relief flooded into them. Her gaze softened with gentle warmth.
“Kardrian……”
“……”
Freya grasped his index finger firmly, then, reassured, closed her eyes once more.
The sounds of pain faded, and her breathing became steadier than before.
Kardrian’s violet eyes trembled slightly.
He held out one finger to Freya and gazed quietly at her sleeping face.
‘Again……’
The way she called his name, the habit of gripping his index finger tightly—in these gestures, the young Freya of his childhood overlapped with the woman before him now.
It had been the same on the day of the Grand Nobility Conference. That day too, Freya had lost consciousness and collapsed.
Then, as if in delirium, she had spoken words.
—”Kardrian! You fool!”
Even in her unconsciousness, her scolding had rung so vividly clear.
It had felt as though the young Freya of his childhood had returned to life. Just as now.
‘There had been no report of her losing consciousness during my campaign.’
Then……
Could these losses of consciousness be a phenomenon that occurs as she regains her memories?
Kardrian shook his head.
He had pressured her to recall her memories as quickly as possible, but he had never hoped she would collapse each time she did.
‘Perhaps it would be better if she never remembered anything at all.’
Wouldn’t it be better for her to live in peace, forgetting everything, rather than return to the Flankher family and risk being drawn back into Political Strife?
Kardrian gazed down at Freya, who gripped his finger tightly, lost in thought.
A brief moment passed in silence.
“Mmgh…….”
Suddenly, Freya let out a pained moan.
“Freya…….”
Kardrian took up the water-dampened towel and wiped away the sweat beading on her forehead.
In that instant, Freya’s grip on his index finger tightened with crushing force.
Then, through a strangled voice, she spat out a single name as if chewing on it.
“Serhine……!”
Serhine?
Kardrian’s eyes narrowed to slits.

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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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