On the way back to the Phoenix family estate, Molly developed a high fever.
Before coming to Italy, she had worked overtime for several consecutive days and had been tormented by that disgusting boss—so much so that she had even prepared herself to drag him down with her.
After the threat of death was lifted, Molly still didn’t get proper rest. Instead, she rushed to Italy and, without pause, attended the birthday banquet of the Vongola boss.
And after that… she didn’t want to recall what happened. In short, once she got into the car leaving the Vongola estate, all the pain and exhaustion she had been suppressing surged out like a flood. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her lips were pale as paper.
Her body was cold. Her chest felt nauseous. She was dizzy.
She was definitely running a fever.
Molly endured it without saying a word.
Less than two hours later, the groggy Molly was gently awakened by Butler William.
They had arrived back at the Phoenix family estate.
The Phoenix family had once been Italian nobility. Even though they had declined and only a few members remained, the family still retained considerable influence.
This was her first day as the head of the family. She had to establish authority.
If the new leader collapsed from illness on her very first day, the family members would surely look down on her—thinking her weak and easy to bully.
So even though her head throbbed, her throat was dry, her body cold, her lips pale, and her ankle injured, Molly still forced herself to endure. She refused Butler William’s assistance and declined to continue using a wheelchair.
With an expressionless face, she got out of the car, walked into the villa, and sat in the main seat while Butler William gathered the staff for a brief meeting.
The purpose was simple: to introduce her identity and allow her to meet everyone.
This was nothing to Molly.
After all, when she used to be a corporate drone, it was common to keep working even while sick.
She was no longer the child who cried whenever she fell ill.
After the meeting, she forced herself to eat a little lunch before stating she needed rest.
Butler William only knew about her sprained ankle, not her fever. He called a doctor to examine her injury.
Molly refused. She only accepted the ointment, then used the excuse of taking a nap to return to her room—dismissing the maids on purpose.
After all, staying silent with a cold expression could be explained as a bad temper. But if a doctor examined her or maids attended her closely, news of her illness would spread through the estate like a flock of released pigeons.
Everyone would know she was sick and injured—and they would inevitably look down on this new leader.
No one would pity her.
In that world, weakness was a sin.
The bedroom Butler William prepared for her was enormous, but Molly had no energy to appreciate it. She collapsed onto the soft bed, passed out for more than ten minutes, then suddenly woke up.
She went to the bathroom, wiped off her sweat with a hot towel, changed into a silk nightgown, applied ointment to her ankle, and finally crawled back into bed, drifting into a hazy sleep.
She didn’t know how long she slept. By the time she woke again, it was almost evening.
A knock came at the door—it was a maid.
The maid relayed Butler William’s message, her tone noticeably more respectful than before:
“Miss, the Vongola boss has come personally to congratulate you on inheriting the family. He has brought gifts and wishes to visit. Butler William asks if you would like to see him.”
“….”
There was no reply from inside the room.
How could she refuse? That was the Vongola boss! The maid couldn’t help thinking this as she waited.
She even felt Butler William’s question was unnecessary.
Compared to the Vongola family, the Phoenix family was like an ant beside an elephant.
If the Vongola boss were a tyrant, he could crush them with one hand.
But since the tenth-generation boss took over, the Vongola family had maintained a gentle style and had been very tolerant toward obedient allied families. The Phoenix family had only managed to survive after the previous leader fell ill and passed away because of Vongola’s protection.
Moreover, even when the former leader was alive, the Vongola boss had only visited once—to witness the will during the leader’s final moments.
And now, before the inheritance ceremony had even begun, on the very day the new mistress arrived, the Vongola boss had come without even sending a prior notice!
And at dusk, no less—who visits someone when it’s almost dark?
Something was definitely going on.
Could there be an issue with the former leader’s will?
While the maid was lost in speculation, an irritated, hoarse voice finally came from inside:
“Not seeing him! Tell him to get as far away as possible!”
“….”
The maid was stunned.
Didn’t the young lady attend his birthday banquet yesterday? How could she treat someone of that status like this?
“Miss… are you sure?” the maid asked hesitantly.
“I’m sure. Just pass along my exact words. And I’m dealing with jet lag—don’t bother me.”
After saying this with all her strength, Molly collapsed back onto the bed.
Her head hurt. Everything hurt. Even breathing hurt.
It was all that bastard’s fault.
Why had he come all the way to the Phoenix estate? To laugh at her?
It was all his fault…
Otherwise, why would she feel like crying again?
The bed was large and soft, the blanket thick.
Yet she still felt cold.
And unbearably lonely.
Curled into a ball under the covers, hugging herself tightly, she couldn’t stop trembling.
The fever must have burned her brain.
Otherwise… why would she miss his embrace?
The scorching warmth, his steady heartbeat, his low breathing, the scent that made her dizzy and intoxicated—
When they had been close, skin against skin, tightly holding each other, the hollow in her chest had felt filled.
So full it made her want to cry.
Tears gathered in her eyes as her arms tightened around herself.
After filling her, he left—as if taking a part of her with him.
The emptiness in her chest only grew, like a drafty window, making even breathing painful.
Although she had spoken those cold, decisive words to him as if she were the winner…
Only she knew how completely she had lost.
With tears clinging to her lashes, longing for warmth that was never truly hers, her vision blurred.
She fell into a dream.
A dream of herself ten years ago.
…
Ten years ago, Molly had been very healthy.
She rarely got sick—but when she did, it hit her hard.
The day before she fell ill, she had argued loudly with her “little follower,” angrily declaring she’d teach him a lesson the next day.
But she was so upset that she tossed and turned all night, forgetting to close the window.
The next morning, she had a high fever.
She felt cold, thirsty, dizzy—unable even to speak.
Since moving to Namimori, her father was rarely home due to work, and no servants had come with them. She had to take care of herself.
Of course, she had told her follower and classmates that she had many servants—it wasn’t a lie. They just weren’t in Namimori.
She couldn’t go to school, couldn’t get revenge. So frustrating.
It must be because she was so angry that she lay curled in bed, tears streaming down.
Then she heard an annoying voice outside the window:
“Molly! Molly! Are you okay? Why didn’t you come to school?”
Idiot.
Even if he called her like that, she couldn’t answer.
She had no strength left.
She drifted into unconsciousness.
When she woke again, she saw that annoying idiot sitting by her bed, wiping her burning face with a damp cloth, looking worried.
“Molly, you’re awake! How do you feel?”
“Why are you here?!”
Startled, she grabbed a rabbit plush and threw it at him, covering herself with the blanket.
But she was too weak, and the plush was soft—it did nothing.
“I didn’t see you at school, so I came during lunch break,” he explained nervously. “Your father asked my mom to look after you, so we have your house key.”
That stupid old man!
Molly buried her head under the covers in embarrassment.
She was wearing a nightgown—with no underwear—and her hair was a mess!
Her elegant young-lady image was completely ruined!
He must be laughing at her inside!
She trembled under the blanket.
“Eh? Molly, are you crying?” he asked, panicked. “I really just came because I was worried! And your fever is so high—you can’t stay under the covers!”
That made her angry.
She suddenly threw off the blanket, flushed red, and snapped:
“I-I’m not crying!”
The boy froze, his face turning red from ears to neck.
“M-Molly, you…”
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?!”
Tears welled up again.
“No… you’re overthinking it.”
He muttered something softly—something about “excited,” “cute,” and “not laughing”—but she was too dizzy to hear clearly.
So he was laughing…
She collapsed back onto the bed.
Someone helped her drink water.
Then darkness again.
In her haze, she felt a hand on her forehead—gentle, familiar, like her mother’s touch.
Her frown eased.
When that person tried to leave, she used all her strength to grab their hand, pressing her burning cheek against it.
“Don’t… leave me…”
Mother…
The hand’s owner froze for a long time, then sat down and gently stroked her damp forehead.
“I won’t leave you, Molly.”
…
When she woke from her fever, she saw Nana Sawada smiling at her bedside.
“Little Molly is awake?” Nana said warmly. “Your fever’s gone. I made porridge—want some?”
“Yes! Thank you, Mom!”
She hesitated, then asked:
“Um… where’s Tsuna?”
“I sent him back to school. He should be home soon.”
“He skipped school because he was worried about you,” Nana added apologetically.
“No, it’s my fault!” Molly said quickly. “I forgot to close the window!”
Nana smiled and fed her porridge spoon by spoon.
Later, Tsuna came home, and the task was handed over to him.
Unlike his mother, he didn’t get the same treatment—Molly complained the entire time, but eventually finished the bowl.
The porridge tasted bitter.
But somehow… her heart felt sweet.
As if the small hollow inside her had been filled.