…But honestly, even saying that, I felt lost.
All I’d done so far was think—I hadn’t actually solved anything.
Now, after being bedridden with illness for so long, time had slipped away. I hadn’t foreseen any of this, hadn’t prepared. So up until now, I had never actively studied sorcery or curses. But from now on, I would make full use of the Serpent’s Passage to sneak in and out of the Marquis’s study.
Before Erhan returned from the Academy would be the easiest time to move. As soon as my health improved, I had to act.
I’ll find a way to undo it.
House Serpentine possessed all manner of books and research journals. Surely there would be at least one that studied methods of breaking curses.
I would find that method, and release as many of the spells on Zachary’s body as I could.
So that, even if only a little, really only a little, he could express his will again.
And if the Empire’s unrest ever calmed, I would prepare immediately to send Zachary outside.
He had to leave this place.
Not remain here like some horrific mummy—but go out, before his madness bloomed, and live a different life, a normal life, unlike the one in the original story.
Though now I wasn’t sure even that was possible.
Of course, I didn’t believe he could ever forgive the Marquis for what he had been turned into.
Smiling bitterly at the thought of lying side by side in the ground with the Marquis, cruelly slaughtered, I lifted my head.
“Ah.”
My thoughts cut off. Because suddenly, Zachary’s figure was reflected in the glass of the window.
He was standing right behind me, so close that I startled, bumping my head against the window and collapsing onto the floor.
How embarrassing.
My head rang.
I must have hit it hard from being so shocked.
When had he come over here? I hadn’t heard a sound, not the slightest hint of movement.
Zachary stood there so naturally, as if he had been by my side from the beginning.
He stared down at me where I had fallen, then offered his hand, helped me up, and guided me back to the bed. Pulled along by his hand before I could resist, I sat down, and Zachary immediately poured warm tea from the pot on the table and handed me a cup. Then, as if it were only natural, he passed me the book I had been reading.
His actions were so seamless that I forgot to thank him, just sat dumbfounded, looking up at him. But I could read nothing of his expression.
“Th-thank you.”
I managed to say it aloud as I accepted the tea and book, but the bitter taste in my heart didn’t fade.
I kept imagining how much he must have suffered to end up like this.
Holding the warm teacup, I gazed at him again.
When I sat on the bed, he could have taken a seat in a chair, or at least rested, but instead he stood like stone, staring only at me. My eyes caught once more on his hands.
Is he cold?
His left hand was still trembling. Subtle enough that you wouldn’t notice without looking carefully.
I reached out with my free hand and pulled his hand toward me.
He did not resist, letting me draw him in. That only made me feel more guilty, more uncomfortable, rather than glad.
“Hold this.”
This was why I had taken his hand.
“You’re cold, aren’t you?”
To give him the teacup.
Your hand is so cold. You really must have been freezing. No wonder your fingertips were trembling earlier.
I had thought it was my imagination, but no—it wasn’t. Even through all those bandages, his hand was icy. He really was chilled.
“Hold it tight. It’s root tea. The smell is just… well. I don’t even know what root it is, but they say it’s good for the body, so I’ve been drinking it. It’s very bitter.”
I babbled without meaning to. My mouth kept moving out of awkwardness, even though I wanted to shut it.
All the while, I helped him grip the cup.
When the teacup tilted, I righted it, but he just froze there in an awkward pose, like a machine that had broken down. I braced the bottom of the cup with my hand, watching him in case he dropped it—but there was no change.
He simply stayed like that, stiff, until the tea had cooled.
When I finally took the cup away and checked his hand, it hadn’t warmed much. His fingertips still trembled faintly.
I opened and closed his cold hand in mine, and at last I had to admit it.
So much for all those warnings not to touch a man.
Zachary really had lost himself.
Once, he had made such a fuss about me not touching him. Now he stayed silent even when I placed something in his hand, even when I touched him directly. He offered no resistance.
As I looked at him with pity, suddenly a fit of coughing burst from me. My condition was especially bad today—my whole body shuddered as I hacked, almost as if I would spit blood. I fumbled desperately for a handkerchief.
And then—shff—my eyes widened at the handkerchief suddenly held out before me.
Zachary, who had until now not moved at all, had acted before I could. Without being told, he handed me the handkerchief, poured out fresh hot tea to replace the cold, and even brought out medicine from the drawer and set it beside me.
“……Ah.”
From the moment he had given me tea and my book earlier, I had felt something strange.
He wasn’t like the other servants here, who only acted when commanded or instructed.
That was it.
He was thinking.
Like someone not under sorcery, he was acting on his own. But that wasn’t what left me aghast.
It was that his every action was centered on me—on sensing and meeting my needs.
That was when I understood the Marquis’s words.
‘All things will center around you. Because he was made for you.’
Zachary wasn’t thinking for himself—he was thinking in reference to me.
That bizarre line hadn’t been thrown out at random.
At last I realized it. The reason his body bore the traces of so many spells, the reason his “education” had taken twice as long as the others—
It was because of me.
Because of me, all of it. My carefully maintained expression twisted despite myself.
“…Hah.”
What was I supposed to do?
How could I keep him at my side until his awakening broke free?
If I stayed near him, I might die—not by his hand, but from guilt, dried up and shriveled first.
He had been bound to this house with even harsher sorcery than the others. What should have been finished sooner, the Marquis had dragged out to mold him into my servant. Zachary must have suffered all the more for it.
When I looked up at him with a contorted face, Zachary once again held out a handkerchief to me.
“Move.”
I couldn’t just sit and watch.
I had to tell the Marquis to stop this. I leapt up from the bed—
Only to collapse to the floor as the world spun.
Cursing my useless body and foolish action, I lifted my head. And there was Zachary again, hand outstretched to me.
He was barely larger than me.
And yet, even with a body broken by long torture, he strained to help me. The sight made my chest ache.
“Really…”
I could barely speak, my throat burned. I had been shivering since earlier—had standing by the window sapped me that much? Just breathing the cold air for a moment, and now coughing myself senseless?
It was ridiculous. I had always thought it a miracle I was alive, but this… this was absurd enough to make me angry.
My head pounded until I couldn’t rise again. Eyes squeezed shut against the dizziness, I tried to pull away from Zachary’s gaze and force myself up.
And then—hands slipped gently beneath my arms.
They moved carefully, as though terrified I might shatter like glass, lifting me with exquisite care.
“All things will center around you. Because he was made for you.”
Those words came back to me, echoing with every action he made. My lips pressed shut tight of their own accord.