The inside of Mira's hut was worse than Viktor expected.
One room. Maybe twelve feet by twelve feet. Dirt floor packed hard from years of footsteps. A straw bed in the corner that smelled of mold and sickness.
A cracked clay pot for cooking sat near a fire pit that hadn't been lit in days. One tiny window with cloth covering it instead of glass—too poor even for that.
The smell hit him immediately. Sweat, illness, poverty. It soaked into everything.
In the corner was Toby's space—a stained blanket, a wooden toy with one wheel missing.
Viktor sat Toby down on the straw bed. The boy didn't resist, just stared at nothing with those vacant eyes.
Viktor examined him methodically. Pulse—weak and irregular. Tongue—pale, almost gray. Skin—clammy and cold despite the stuffiness of the hut.
"What does he eat?" Viktor asked.
"Whatever I can find," Mira said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Bread when we can afford it. Thin soup most days. Sometimes dried grains."
"Water source?"
"The village well, my lord."
"Seizures? How often?"
Mira's face crumpled. "Three... three times last week. They're getting worse. Longer. I'm afraid he'll..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
Viktor nodded, filing away the information. His mind was already working through possibilities. Contaminated water seemed most likely. Combined with severe malnutrition, it would explain most of the symptoms.
'Toxin buildup, definitely,' Viktor thought. 'Plus malnutrition weakening his entire system.'
He glanced at Helena. She'd moved to kneel beside Toby, her maternal instincts kicking in despite her initial hesitation.
"It's okay, little one," Helena said softly, pulling a cloth from her bag. She wiped Toby's dirty face gently. "We're here to help."
The boy's eyes focused slightly at her warm tone. His trembling lessened just a fraction.
'She's good with kids,' Viktor observed. 'That's... useful.'
Then he looked at Mira, who stood against the wall, watching him with desperate hope.
Mira's breath caught as their eyes met. Heat crawled up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.
She pressed herself harder against the rough wall, suddenly aware of how closely he was looking at her—or maybe just looking near her. Her heart hammered in her chest.
'A nobleman. Here. In my home.'
The absurdity of it made her dizzy.
[ Detected loosening of racial traits—Influencing aura—***(Non-accessible notifications) ]
This cramped, filthy space that barely sheltered them from rain, and he stood there like he belonged anywhere but here.
She couldn't stop noticing the stark difference—his clean clothes, his steady posture, the way he commanded the room without even trying.
Her hands trembled at her sides. She clasped them together, trying to still the nervous energy thrumming through her body.
She'd do anything to save her son—that much was clear. Anything at all.
A dark thought crossed Viktor's mind. 'Shit. Am I becoming like Leo?'
He shook his head and turned away from her. Given his desperation, he'd almost forgotten that he needed women for his ability, not just to fulfill his lust.
"I'll prepare medicine from herbs at my manor," Viktor said, standing. "It'll take until evening."
Mira's eyes went impossibly wide. Her lips parted in shock, a flush deepening across her face. "You... you'd really do that?"
"I said I would." Viktor moved toward the door. "I'll return tomorrow with the treatment."
"I... I don't know how to repay..." Mira's voice broke again, fresh tears spilling over. Her chest heaved with emotion, the movement drawing attention she didn't intend.
Viktor cut her off with a gesture. "Just don't cry like that, it doesn't suit you. For now, keep him warm and give him clean water if you can find any."
Mira's breath hitched at his words. The casual way he said it—like her tears actually mattered to him, like she was more than just another desperate peasant. Her fingers went to her face instinctively, wiping at the dampness there.
"Clean water, my lord?"
"Boil it first. Let it cool. Then—" Viktor halted as he recalled the quality of water here. Naturally, boiling could kill the germs, but how could it make the dirt edible?
So he just took out a small pouch of herb he'd used in the pond earlier when he'd fucked Helena, adding, "Mix this in water. It will clean it, and then give it to him."
Mira blinked, staring at the strange herb paste in his outstretched hand. Her mind went blank for a moment, unable to process his generosity. When she reached for it, her fingers brushed against his palm.
The contact sent a jolt through her. She jerked her hand back slightly, the pouch clutched against her chest, her face burning.
'Too sensitive. Why am I so—'
"Lady? Do you get it?"
"Huh? Y-yes, yes, my lord." Mira nodded frantically, committing every word to memory. Her voice came out breathier than she intended.
Helena gave Toby one last gentle pat. "The lord will make you feel better, okay? Be brave."
The boy nodded—barely, but it was there. His first real response.
They left the hut. Mira stood in the doorway, watching them go. Her body swayed slightly as she leaned against the splintered doorframe, one hand pressed against the rotting wood for support. Her legs felt weak beneath her.
The sunlight caught her from behind, outlining the curve of her hips, the heavy sway of her breasts as she breathed.
Her eyes remained fixed on the back of the weary lord who left alongside that maid woman. She couldn't look away, even as the distance between them grew.
'He came here... for me?'
Her throat tightened with emotion she couldn't name.
The villagers were still watching from their windows. The whispers hadn't stopped—if anything, they'd gotten louder.
"He's actually helping?"
"Mira's boy... the cursed one..."
"Maybe he's not as bad as they say..."
"Or maybe he wants something worse than taxes..."
Viktor heard all of it. Ignored all of it. His mind was already working through the herb combinations he'd need.
Due to the wilderness and the abundance of wild grasses around, he had enough materials available for creating a temporary treatment for that boy. But herbs weren't plentiful here within the village premise—hardly a hundred different plants.
The issue wasn't variety but amount.
He needed more if he wanted to purify that village well water. But again, he couldn't do anything about it when he'd just arrived here and didn't even know the layout of the village yet.
However, one good thing had happened—he'd at least met a native from whom he could get information.
It was almost overwhelming, but he forced himself to focus.
Helena walked beside him in silence. He could feel her eyes on him, the question she wanted to ask but didn't.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Young master," Helena said quietly. "You don't have to push yourself that much."
"Haah..." Viktor exhaled, not looking at her. "I know."
"Then why—"
"Because if I don't, who will?" He cut her off, his tone flat. "That boy will die. Simple as that."
Helena fell silent. They walked through the village outskirts, the dirt path crunching under their feet. The stares from villagers followed them like shadows.
"Besides," Viktor added after a moment, "I need information. About this place, the people, everything. Mira's the first person who didn't look at me like I was going to murder her entire family."
"Young master..."
"It's practical, Helena. Not heroic." He glanced at her. "Don't mistake what I'm doing for kindness."
But Helena just smiled softly, that knowing look in her eyes. "Whatever you say, young master."
Viktor grunted, turning his attention to the dense grass field ahead. Wild herbs grew thick here—feverfew, yarrow, some kind of mint he couldn't identify immediately.
He knelt down, starting to pick through them methodically. Helena joined him without being asked, her hands moving expertly through the plants.
"This one?" She held up a stem with purple flowers.
"Yeah. Grab as much as you can." Viktor stuffed his pockets. "We need a lot."
They worked in silence for a while. The sun was already dipping lower, painting everything in shades of orange and red. Viktor's back ached. His legs felt like lead. That morning's exercise, the walk to the village, the mental exhaustion of dealing with people—it was all catching up.
And yeah, fucking Helena in that pond earlier didn't help his stamina either.
'Worth it though,' he thought, watching her bend over to reach a low-growing plant. Her maid dress stretched tight across her ass, the fabric clinging to every curve.
The sway of her hips as she shifted her weight, the way her breasts pressed against her bodice when she leaned forward—
His dick twitched despite his exhaustion.
"I think this is enough," Helena said, standing up with an armful of herbs. Her face was slightly flushed from the exertion, a few strands of hair clinging to her damp neck.
She met his eyes for just a moment, and something flickered there—awareness, maybe. A hint of a knowing smile.
"Young master?"
"Yeah. Let's go."