“If you would bestow upon me the ‘Water of Life’ that the imperial family always carries…
I would be eternally grateful.” Evelyn’s eyes widened slightly.
“Water of Life?” She repeated my words, furrowing her brow faintly.
“The one that restores any wound to perfect condition?
…Unexpected.
I thought you’d demand something much bigger.
This is more modest than I imagined.” Her words said that, but her voice held a mix of caution, curiosity, and faint fondness.
“I figured you’d ask me to casually act like I know you at some noble salon or ball.” “…Me?
And that’s all you’d think I’d wish for?” “‘All’?” Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.
“Lucas Argent.
You know how noble society views you—no need for me to spell it out.
You know the struggles you went through to cling to your family name, the pitying looks over your ‘birth limitations’.” That was unexpected.
Did that Lucas guy really flail around that desperately just to make a name for himself?
Even as a bastard, to let everyone see his desperation.
And considering how he’d grown up venting that rage on innocent slaves…
there was no room for sympathy.
But something in my reaction irked her further, and Evelyn took a step closer.
“And besides.” She lifted her chin slightly.
“Who am I?
The Second Princess of the Abellan Empire.
Do you know how great an honor it is for other nobles when I personally speak to them or move with them?
They’re all desperate for even a word from me, and you call that ‘all’!
─That’s rude, Lucas Argent.” “Ah…
Then I apologize, Your Highness.” Her slightly sulky demeanor carried the innocent charm of her age, a far cry from the girl who’d just calmly discussed state affairs.
I took a deep breath and steered back to the point before emotions could flare.
“Your Highness.” With that, I stood.
Without looking at Evelyn, I walked straight to one corner of the room.
There lay Piel, the fox beastkin child barely clinging to life on the bed.
I stood by the bed, carefully supporting the child’s body to lift the blanket slightly or angle her head just enough for the princess to see.
“The reason I asked for the ‘Water of Life’…
is to restore this child to perfect health.” “…Wait.” Evelyn’s eyes widened in shock.
“What’s this child?
I thought it was just the two of us in the room.” Only then noticing Piel, she uncrossed her legs and approached the bed slowly.
The princess was also a mage.
Peerless at sensing mana signatures.
But Piel’s mana was as faint as a dying ember, so it was no wonder she hadn’t detected it.
The moment she saw the child’s state, Evelyn’s expression hardened completely.
The young beastkin lay there, collared as a slave, surrounded by the scent of bandages and herbs.
I’d treated many wounds already, but their brutality remained vivid.
“I’ve done everything I could manage.” I said calmly.
“But her eyeball is ruptured, parts of her organs damaged…
and above all, one ear is completely gone.” I tilted Piel’s head slightly to show.
“For beastkin, ears aren’t just body parts.
They’re tied to senses, balance, racial pride…
everything.” “Even if she miraculously survives…” Evelyn continued in a faintly trembling voice.
“She won’t have a normal life.” She turned away, unable to face the stump directly.
In that brief motion, I saw the ‘princess overly sensitive to the weak’ from the original story.
“…You really did all this treatment yourself?” Evelyn asked quietly.
“I could believe a court physician did it.” “Yes.
I have some knowledge of medicine.” I answered plainly.
“Besides, this child is my first slave, a birthday gift.
I couldn’t let her die.” Evelyn, gazing down at Piel, slowly slipped her hand into her bosom.
What she drew out was a fingernail-sized vial, one only imperials possessed.
Inside rippled a crystalline liquid.
The Water of Life.
The empire’s highest healing essence, rarely permitted even in the palace.
“So…
that’s why you chose this as your wish.” Evelyn whispered.
She fell silent for a long while.
She lifted the bandages slightly, inspecting the tissues I’d sutured and arranged one by one.
Her expression…
was hard to pin to a single emotion.
Then she turned back to me, regaining her imperial composure.
“Lucas Argent.” “Yes, Your Highness.” “Once this child wakes…
what do you plan to do?” She asked seriously.
“Is it just a whim?
Or…
is there some un-Argent-like reason I don’t know?” I paused to steady my breath.
And— As a doctor, and now as this child’s owner, I answered honestly.
“Does it…
really need a reason?” “…Pardon?” “The reason I studied medicine is simple.
Helping people doesn’t require grand motives.
I just…
follow my ‘beliefs.'” “!!”