I was worried.
“This medicine will stop the wound from festering worse, and it’ll shorten the time you writhe in pain. It’s both a painkiller and an anti-inflammatory. After you take it, there might be a trace of the medicine’s scent, so rinse your mouth with water, then bite the inside of your cheek to draw a bit of blood. That way, the Marquis won’t notice.”
Maybe I said too much. Out of the desperate urge to make him take the pill, all kinds of words tumbled out, and I felt a little embarrassed. That was why I never once looked at Zachary as I spoke.
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I felt as if he wasn’t looking at the pill at all—he was looking at my face.
“……”
When I finished speaking, silence fell again. I kept my palm extended with the pill resting on it before his lips, while I turned my head aside as though staring off at some distant mountain.
Will he take it?
I did hope he’d believe me, after I’d said this much—but I couldn’t be sure he would. I couldn’t even fathom how much cruel torture he’d endured until now.
Because among the methods of torture was the trick of offering hope, only to snatch it away.
“It’s all based on manipulating a person’s mind, so it’s the same here. Especially those who cling to hope and optimism—on them it works even better. With a bit of sorcery you show them hallucinations, heightening every sensation, every nerve. For instance… imagine showing someone the key to the locked door that holds them captive, only to crush it before their eyes—and doing that over and over again.”
Beyond mere physical torment, the greatest hallmark of our House was the use of mental torture.
This boy, resistant to sorcery and ignorant of submission, had surely been hurled down into the mire countless times right at the threshold of hope. Again and again, someone would step forward, seeming to help him, only to retreat at the decisive moment and plunge him deeper into the abyss. No wonder he was so guarded.
Mental torture made every second stretch into a day. Zachary must have been in unending agony by the hour.
So I waited.
I waited without force, simply holding out my hand until my arm went numb.
I waited for him to choose the pill himself.
At last, Zachary opened his mouth.
“Why… are you… he-helping me?”
Instead of swallowing the pill, he asked me that question. His gaze locked onto me.
Those deep, dark-blue eyes stared straight into mine.
That unwavering focus pinned me down. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak.
For some reason, under his gaze, my breath caught in my throat.
I hesitated, unable to answer easily—and then I froze in shock.
Before I could say a word, Zachary suddenly took the pill.
“I’ll… g-give you water.”
I was startled.
Not only because he had swallowed it so readily, but because the breath he exhaled into my palm as he took it was shockingly warm, despite his body being ice-cold.
Trying not to betray my surprise, I hurriedly uncorked the flask and offered it to him—yet no hand came to take it.
I stole a glance. Bound as he was, of course I’d have to feed him.
“Um… could you lift your chin a little?”
Even as I said it, my face flushed with embarrassment.
Fortunately, Zachary flicked his gaze at the flask, then raised his chin just slightly, as if to accept. Awkwardly crouching, I carefully trickled water into his mouth.
At first his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but his thirst soon won out; he gulped down the water in haste.
It seemed he had confirmed the pill was harmless. His vigilance eased, and he drank.
Yet with his awkward posture, half the water spilled down his jaw.
Seeing that his clothes would soon be soaked, I instinctively wiped his cheek with my other hand. Dust-mixed black water smeared my skin, but I barely noticed. His body was already cold enough—I couldn’t let him get wetter. As I brushed away the droplets under his chin—
Ah.
“Kh… cough!”
Our eyes met.
“Cough! Cough!”
Just moments before, he’d been drinking fine. But now his eyes flashed with panic, and he broke into a fit of wild coughing, bowing forward.
Had the water gone down the wrong way? His choking coughs were so violent I worried someone outside would hear. I couldn’t help but glance nervously toward the door.
He’d been drinking well until now—yet the instant I touched him, he panicked. My touch must have been unbearable to him. The sight of him refusing me, turning away as I floundered, filled me with guilt.
Of course he would be like this. How could he not, after such torture? To recoil from touch, to react so sharply—was only natural.
“Are you okay?”
I bent my head, whispering softly so no servant outside would hear. At once Zachary glared up at me again, coughing so hard I thought he might vomit.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean…”
So even this much closeness was torment to him.
I drew back, awkward and remorseful. It felt as though I had only worsened his suffering. Even as I offered my sincere apology, Zachary still couldn’t stop coughing.
He must have simply choked. Perhaps I should give him more water? But his hands were bound, and I feared he’d hate being fed again.
Caught between choices, I could only shuffle in place. Thankfully, the coughing gradually subsided.
When Zachary finally lifted his head, his eyes met mine—only to dart away again at once. His rejection was plain. My presence itself seemed unbearable.
“……”
The air was stiff with awkwardness.
Both of us, Zachary and I.
The suddenness of it dawned belatedly.
I, who had rushed to make him take the pill. He, who had swallowed it in desperation. Now that reason had returned, we were both left stiff, awkward, and ill at ease.
And yet… it was astounding.
At most he was my age. And yet he had endured this brutal torture for five days, and still retained consciousness. That was nearly impossible.
So the “education” was only at stage one?
Normally, they would hollow out even one’s mother tongue before starting the suggestion. Into that empty vessel, the Marquis would slowly pour only the knowledge he wished. But Zachary could still communicate. That meant the Marquis was still struggling in the very first stage.
He’s too badly injured to escape anyway.
Even if I could undo his chains, Zachary’s wounds wouldn’t heal anytime soon.
That was the fatal weakness of Thaddeus imperial bloodlines. Before awakening, they had no outstanding abilities. If anything, they were slower to grow, healed sluggishly, and even lacked coordination. Only after awakening did they surge with power and sharpened reflexes. Until then, children like him were kept hidden and protected.
This sudden struggle for succession must have created an opening.
This generation had been crowded with imperial children. The fight must have been fierce. The kingdom must have snatched Zachary in a moment when he tried to avoid the conflict.
Even if I freed him now, he couldn’t flee like this. And with the Empire in turmoil, who knew if they could protect him? He’d only circle the borderlands until captured again.
So what should I do from here?
I needed to revise my plan entirely.
[AFFECTION X]
The idea of planting affection—I abandoned it the moment I saw Zachary’s state. Forcing a bond into a child already suffering like this would be too cruel.
[INTERFERENCE △]
Since I’d reached him through a secret passage, I might yet find a way to interfere with the sorcery. Not now, but perhaps.
I never expected we’d actually talk.
At first he’d seemed unstable, but with the medicine his condition improved. His mind seemed steadier than I thought. Whether that was fortunate or not—I couldn’t say.
The torture will only grow harsher.
The Marquis had been summoned secretly by the royal family today—surely to report on Zachary’s “education.” If he confessed sorcery still hadn’t worked, would the king stand by idly?
No. He’d order the pace increased. And the Marquis, craven before his king, would obey. Which meant Zachary’s torture would soon escalate.
So how should I respond?
As I wrestled with the thought, I felt a prickling stare against my cheek. I shifted my eyes and saw Zachary watching me. The moment our gazes met, he jolted, wide-eyed, then whipped his head away so fast the iron chain at his neck clamped down, digging into flesh.
“…Ah!”
Zachary’s face contorted in pain as he trembled violently.