You Think I Won't Talk?-Chapter 58

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Paul was attending to some of the matters of the Duchy assigned to him by his Father in his office.

The Heir of any household would gradually take into his supervision the never-ending duties their future Title entangled. And just like his Father, the Young Master had accumulated documents to revise after the three days of absence whilst the Royal Spring Ball was celebrated.

His duties headache only added to his already irritated mood. Although he had waited patiently through the second and last day at the Royal Palace, his time of sharing a ride with his beloved sister had been sabotaged by his measle of a Father.

When he had declared their early departure, without both of them, his teeth almost got smashed at how strongly he clenched his jaw in resentment. Paul felt an urge to kill his father for the first time in a while. His patience was on its limit, and, if not for the reaction Marianne would have of such a bestial act, the throat of the Duke would have been already reaped off without a second thought by his hand.

During his time revising the documents, he remained attentive to the sounds that came from outside. Almost three hours after his arrival at the manor, he could finally hear the rattle of the carriage wheels arrive at a far distance.

Quickly moving to the open window, he waited as the sound became louder, and watched how, after parking at the Castle’s entrance, his gorgeous sister descend from the carriage. From a distance, he could tell how godly she looked in that marvellous dress. He watched mesmerized how, with every movement she made, the dress fluttered in compass to her rhythm.

Although he was burning with desire to run to her presence and watch her undeniable beauty from up close, Paul contained the urge and told himself words to keep his forbearance in check.

’The faster I deal with the nuisances... the faster and longer I’ll be with her.’

Inhaling a breath to calm his eagerness, Paul succeeded, and after losing sight of his sister, he went back to his desk to continue his delayed work.

The end of the afternoon was falling with the sun, and now, only a few things were left to revise. Nonetheless, this did not appease him. On the contrary, it called upon further anxiety and annoyance in his bad mood.

’This has no end...!!’

Knock! Knock!

"Tsk! D*mn it."

Yet, an unexpected call to his door interrupted his tasks.

"Young Master, it is I, Thomas."

"..."

’What is it now?’

"Come in."

Opening the door, the Butler came in and his refined composure as he placed himself in front of Paul’s desk, addressed the importance of the message to be given.

His brow twitched to the bad omen it implied. Thus, Paul promptly inquired about the matter.

"What happened?"

"... His Grace has asked me to inform all of the family members about the current state of health of Miss Marianne."

"... What happened to my sister?"

Paul’s mind froze for a moment. And as odd as it is, he had great control over his unpredictable temperament now.

"Currently, Miss Marianne is ailing greatly by a strong fever. Doctor Deslys has already examined the Lady and, sadly, the diagnosis is not favourable... there is a possibility that... she might not survive–"

Thud!

"I’ll go see her."

Passing right by the elder’s side, Paul gave long strides towards the door.

Thomas could only bow at him before he disappeared behind the slammed entrance.

Walking fast through the hallway, the Young Master made his way to Marianne’s chambers. His mind did not think of anything else than going to her side. The news was too abrupt and he could not reckon such fatidical truth. There was no way that his little sister could die. The fact that she was a mere human like himself, that she could die, that she could disappear like anyone else as easily as it is to blink, did not fit in his head.

’It’s not true... she would... Marianne would never leave me!!!’

Paul started to accelerate, the path to her felt endless and his mind was in turmoil by the doubts. She is his goddess, his everything... How could it be that her existence could come to an end?... It all seemed nonsensical. It was an inconceivable idea.

"... It’s just... not possible. Not for Marianne."

The last sentence he said while mumbling out the words was declared with certainty. The determinant of his firm confidence... was nothing less than based on the countless times... she could have died by his hands.

"Heh, she can’t die. Not by a mere fever... Not Marianne... not my Little Marianne."

Whispering to himself to affirm his beliefs, Paul displayed a distorted grin.

His sickening mentality was no more able to realise the truth on which he based those beliefs. The reality that he had taken her to the point of almost dying on innumerable occasions did not register in his head.

Paul was blinded by his rotten psyche.

Arriving at her bedroom door, he did not bother on announcing his presence. Opening it abruptly, without even taking a pause from his strides, Paul banged the door as he entered the room.

The eyes that did not blink from the moment he got informed of the situation, flickered for the first time when he saw the scene of his father seating next to Marianne with her hand in his own.

The sight irritated him greatly, however, his eyes quickly went to the visage of his unconscious sister.

His mouth twitched, menacing to take the shape of a furtive smile.

Despite the seriousness of her state, Paul did not take into account the evident delicate condition she was in, as inappropriate thoughts crossed his mind.

’Haaa... she looks gorgeous... such fair beauty...’

After staring at her resting figure, he ultimately felt the Duke’s gaze on him. His eyes were reluctant to forfeit the view of her magnificence, therefore, Paul’s eyes changed from being dreamy to cold as they changed the focus to another target.

"... Father."

"... I see Thomas already informed you... Come here, son."

Pretending to be calm, his son got closer to where his father was seating.

Once Paul stood right next to the Duke, his eyes looked downwards as if staring at his ill sister. Both were looking at Marianne, however, their focus was on different places.

As Orland watched her flushed visage, in the meantime, Paul stared intensely at their clasped hands, building up unbecoming emotions inside him.

"... She fell asleep as soon as she laid down... Doctor Deslys... he will stay for the next hours since... they will be the most crucial for her to... recover."

Without paying much attention to what the Duke said, his eyes kept fixed on the hands.

"... I see..."

’... You won’t let go?’

Orland was unaware that the flat voice his son was using was not because of serious concern about Marianne’s situation. The gentle Duke, ignorant of his son’s true thoughts, felt sorry for his firstborn, who had to see his little sister suffer once again.

Turning to look at him, their eyes met naturally and Orland tried to comfort his other beloved child.

"... Paul... it will be alright. She will definitely get better... You know that your sister is very strong, right?"

’Of course she will get better. This is not enough to kill Marianne.’

"... Yes, Father."

The Duke showed a compassionate expression at how affected his son appeared to be with how elusive his response was.

"... Son... Marianne, wouldn’t like you to be so sad... Don’t you remember how she always tried to make you laugh? Saying that her Brother had a beautiful smile?"

"... Yes... I remember..."

’She still says it.’

Slightly showing a grin on his lips, his eyes did not show any emotion as he answered with a softer tone to the Duke, who was not looking at him anymore.

’So... why won’t you let go?’

"...... Paulos..."

’...!’

Paul flinched as he heard the nickname his father used to call him some time ago.

Ever since he turned eighteen, making his debut as the firstborn and heir of the Sylfinnier’s Dukedom in high society, his Father had stopped calling him by his old nickname that meant "small", only with the intention to recognise his recently attained adulthood.

After hearing it for the first time in over a year, he felt odd at how it made him feel confused.

"... You have always been a good brother... It is such a blessing that your sisters can count on you....."

"..."

Paul felt agitated at those unexpected words, by something he could not identify. He was sure that what the Duke had said was the truth. He was a great brother, his little sister always said so. And it was obvious that his sister and himself were blessed to have each other.

Yet, he felt odd about it. In his mind, that was the only truth he knew. But it did not make sense for him to hear this from his father.

His thoughts were incoherent on this matter, causing him to feel disturbed about it.

The silence continued meanwhile his mind was in chaos for not having a clear idea of his inward incongruities, and, without being able to come to a closure... he came up with a forced illogical answer to it all.

’... What is this d*mn man implying?’