The moment the carriage wheels touched the Vaelthorn estate's stone courtyard, Elric threw open the door and stepped out before the guards could assist her. She barely acknowledged the steward or staff who came to greet her.
Her eyes only sought one thing. One room.
She walked briskly through the halls, her heartbeat quickening with every step. The past few weeks had felt like a war—political, emotional, and personal—but none of it mattered now.
Her hand trembled as she opened the heavy door to Kael's room.
He was awake.
Slumped against the cushions with his body still thin and frail, Kael sat upright in bed. His snow-white hair fell softly across his forehead, and though his face remained pale, his eyelids slowly lifted as the door creaked open.
He looked at her.
Elric's composure shattered. A cry broke from her throat as she rushed forward, dropping her gloves to the floor. She fell to her knees beside him, pulling him into her arms.
"You're awake… it's okay… just this," she whispered through her tears. "Let me hold you just like this…"
Kael didn't move, but he didn't pull away either. And that was more than enough for her heart to burst open.
Robert soon entered behind her, quietly giving the two a moment before clearing his throat gently.
"My Lady," he greeted softly. "His body is still weak, but he's recovering steadily. The mana leakage has fully stopped, according to Viscount Jaesper."
Elric turned slightly, brushing the tears from her cheek. "So it just… stopped? No reason? No trigger?"
Robert shook his head. "We don't know yet."
A knock on the door interrupted their exchange, and in stepped Jaesper Greys—calm and composed, as always. His long green braid was immaculate, and his glasses reflected the afternoon light like glassy judgment.
"Duchess Vaelthorn," he greeted with a respectful nod. "His core has stabilized. I've done all I can internally. From here on, his physical recovery will be slow and… unpleasant. But with the right care, he may return to some level of strength."
He glanced at Kael without much emotion. "Don't force him. He is not a tool you can wind back up."
Without waiting for further pleasantries, Jaesper closed his notebook, packed his tools into a small trunk, and gestured for his assistant to prepare the carriage.
Robert stepped forward and bowed. "Thank you for your help, Viscount Jaesper."
Jaesper looked down, his smile faint but sincere. He took Robert's hand, bent slightly, and pressed a cool kiss against the knuckles. "I only fulfilled your order, Sir Robert."
With that, he departed, the click of his boots and the whisper of his cloak trailing behind like a ghost.
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Later, once Kael was asleep again, Elric met Robert in the hall.
"He knows," she said quietly.
Robert blinked. "His Majesty?"
Elric nodded. "Reinhardt knows Kael is awake."
Robert's brows furrowed, but he didn't speak.
"He hasn't sent anyone. No orders. No summons. It's strange, but… I think he's waiting," she muttered, folding her arms. "You'll continue sending updates to the capital, but do it discreetly. Avoid the royal seal. No markings. I don't trust what eyes may be watching."
Robert nodded. "Understood."
"He didn't ask me to bring Kael back," Elric added, staring down the hall. "That… bothers me. Reinhardt never leaves threads untied. Which means... he's preparing something."
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Back in Kael's mind…
"Don't forgive me… Don't forget me…"
The voice rang inside him—his own, perhaps. Or someone else's. Kael couldn't tell.
He opened his eyes.
Dim light filtered through the curtains. The air was warm. Someone was holding his hand tightly. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the figure beside him.
Robert.
His face was thinner. Paler. His usually neat blond hair had begun to curl from stress, and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes. You've lost weight, Kael thought, but no words came. His throat burned like fire.
His chest ached. His limbs were heavy. He couldn't even squeeze Robert's hand.
He blinked slowly and noticed a second figure in the room—Jaesper, standing beside the bed, speaking to Robert. But Kael couldn't make out the words. The sound came in muffled waves, like voices underwater.
It was strange.
The last time he'd awakened—from the long coma—he could at least sit up. Walk. Speak.
Now… even breathing felt like drowning.
Later, Robert brought him a small bowl of soft food. Kael blinked at the spoon, tried to raise his own hand—but his muscles wouldn't obey. He couldn't even lift his fingers properly.
But he opened his mouth—just barely.
The food spilled at first. But he tried. He swallowed.
And Robert smiled.
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Night after night was a blur of agony. Jaesper's treatments were brutal—potions forced down his throat burned worse than fire, and his entire body screamed in protest. At times, Kael wondered if the man intended to kill him through pain.
But each time he wanted to give up… he remembered Robert's hand in his.
He remembered Elric's tears.
He remembered the warmth.
And so, he endured.
Days passed. Little by little, the fog lifted from his limbs. He could now follow Robert's movement with his eyes. He could hold food in his mouth longer. The shaking eased.
And then, one quiet afternoon, his fingers moved.
Just slightly.
Enough to brush against Robert's cheek as the man leaned close to adjust his blanket.
Robert froze.
Then he broke into tears again.