Wicked Husband-Chapter 166 - 165

The letter from Count Dominico was unexpected.

"The Grand Duchess has been incredibly thoughtful and attentive, for which I am deeply grateful. However, I now realize it is time to let go. My stubbornness has only kept my beloved in prolonged suffering."

As soon as Eileen read the letter, she decided to visit the count’s estate in person. It would be her first time at his home, and its pristine, orderly appearance stood in stark contrast to the grim tone of the letter.

Despite her unannounced arrival, the count greeted her warmly. His already frail, anxious appearance had worsened; his cheeks were sunken, and he looked utterly exhausted.

For the first time, Eileen met the countess. Her skeletal frame resembled the barren branches of a winter tree, and the shadow of death hung heavily in the room. The countess’s lifeless gaze and faint breathing permeated the estate with an oppressive gloom. Her occasional groans of pain filled the house like a haunting melody.

It was Eileen’s first time confronting such a severely ill patient directly. The sight left her frozen in shock, unable to process the overwhelming despair. The count, noticing her distress, led her to the drawing room for tea.

The staff promptly brought out tea, but no one touched their cups.

"There is nothing more that medicine can do," the count said gravely.

The countess had long suffered from chronic pain, for which Eileen had diligently crafted custom painkillers. However, even those had now ceased to be effective.

Eileen bit her lip as she listened. The count, smiling faintly despite his haggard state, told her not to trouble herself further. He expressed his gratitude for all she had done thus far, his tone resigned.

It was clear from his demeanor—just as his letter had suggested—that the count had given up entirely. A hollow laugh escaped his lips as he spoke, his expression one of quiet defeat.

"...No."

The soft denial that escaped Eileen’s lips caused the count to look at her in confusion. Rising abruptly from her seat, she declared with resolve:

"There’s still medicine that can help."

She handed him a supply of the existing painkillers she had prepared. For now, she instructed him to double the usual dosage and promised to return the following day.

Without waiting for a response, Eileen hurried out of the estate. Her driver looked startled as she emerged in a rush, urging him to take her back to the Grand Duchy as quickly as possible.

On the drive back, the image of the countess, writhing in pain, lingered in her mind.

She thought back to why she had become interested in pharmacology in the first place.

It had started with her love for plants and her desire to be of service to the prince. She had pursued herbal remedies as a way to combine these interests.

Even when she returned to the capital without completing her studies and began selling medicine at the inn, it had been primarily for financial reasons. Helping others had never been her motivation—it had always been for herself or for Cesare.

But as she met more people who came to her makeshift laboratory on the inn’s second floor, she began to change. Seeing her medicines improve the lives of others brought her a sense of pride and fulfillment she had never expected.

She realized she wanted to create medicine that could benefit the entire empire.

Though her current project, Morpheus, had started as a way to help Cesare, her aspirations had grown beyond that. She wanted this medicine to be her contribution to the people.

Upon arriving back at the Grand Duchy, Eileen went straight to her laboratory. Sonio, startled by her hurried demeanor, called out to her, but she quickly assured him.

"I’ll be in the lab until dinner! I’ll probably eat late, so don’t worry about me!"

She dashed into her lab, changed into comfortable clothes, tied her hair back, and donned her apron and gloves. Pulling out the securely stored Morpheus, she examined the crystalline powder.

Her gaze lingered momentarily on the potted red poppies by the window, their petals the same vivid shade as Cesare’s eyes. Closing her eyes briefly to steady herself, she reopened them with renewed determination.

She carefully measured out a smaller dose, less than the previous 30mg. Staring at the shimmering white powder, Eileen steeled her nerves.

There was no time for hesitation. Even now, Countess Dominico was suffering unimaginable pain.

With that thought in mind, Eileen tilted her head back and swallowed the first dose of Morpheus.

She was its first human subject.

* * *

[First Dose of Morpheus, 15mg.]

White crystalline substance, odorless, with a slightly bitter taste. A mild fever began immediately after administration, though not severe. A pleasant sensation.

I prepared an emetic for emergencies and observed the effects. No significant changes after 15 minutes. Proceeding to the second dose.

[Second Dose, 15mg.]

The fever intensified slightly. Mild dizziness and nausea. Proceeding to the third dose after 15 minutes.

[Third Dose, 30mg. Dosage doubled.]

Severe fever. Dizziness. Proceeding to the fourth dose after 15 minutes.

[Fourth Dose, 30mg.]

Fatigue. Dizziness. A feeling of drowsy euphoria. Stomachache? Also very sleepy. Struggling to stay awake... Oh, Cesare is here!

Eileen felt as if she were drifting through a dream. Initially, Morpheus had shown little effect. While she had never tried opium, she had some idea of its effects and assumed Morpheus would be similar.

However, that was only a vague theory. Experiencing it firsthand was entirely different.

Diligently documenting her condition over four doses, Eileen’s neat handwriting gradually devolved into indecipherable scribbles. Her once-clear thoughts grew hazy.

By the fourth dose, she was half-asleep. Her head nodded involuntarily, and while dozing off, she scrawled wobbly letters. She tried to keep her eyelids open, but it was futile. In that moment, she heard Cesare’s voice.

"Of course, it came to this."

She thought it was a hallucination—a side effect of the narcotic. While jotting down the auditory hallucination in her messy notebook, she felt a hand stroking her head and looked up.

"Everyone thinks the Grand Duchess is gentle, but if they saw this stubbornness, they’d change their minds, hmm?"

Blinking up at the man before her, Eileen absentmindedly wrote, ’Cesare is here,’ before letting go of her fountain pen.

The pen clattered onto the desk. Staggering to her feet, she flashed a bright smile and embraced Cesare.