"So it really was... just a dream?"

Muen leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling where the golden chandelier swayed gently overhead. A wave of relief surged through his chest.

He was alive.

He’d been stabbed straight through the vitals with a dagger ablaze with an evil god’s fire—and yet, he was still breathing.

Had the heavens finally decided to show him mercy?

"According to the master," Anne began, "the formal attire you were wearing at the time was actually a high-grade defensive magic artifact. At the critical moment, it absorbed most of the impact on your behalf. That’s what saved your life."

"I see..."

Sorry, dear formal suit. I spoke too harshly about you before. Your twenty kilograms of dead weight wasn’t a flaw—it was your warm, reassuring thickness that saved me!

If I get the chance, I’ll have you repaired and wear you again, not for vanity, but to repay your life-saving grace!

"So, what about my injuries now...?"

Muen looked down at his hands. To be honest, considering how severe the wound had been, he didn’t feel any real pain at the moment—just a faint sense of inner depletion, like his whole body had been hollowed out.

"It was Her Highness, Princess Celicia," Anne said.

"She summoned the Royal Magus Corps' Chief Healing Mage to treat you personally. Thanks to that, your injuries were stabilized from the beginning. It’s just that your body was too weak, so you remained unconscious for quite a while."

"How long is ‘a while’?"

"You’ve been asleep for three full days, Young Master."

"Three... days?"

Muen exhaled slowly. "That’s... longer than I thought."

"By the way—"

The moment Celicia was mentioned, Muen tensed up. He couldn’t help but ask, cautiously:

"Did Celicia say anything about me?"

"Say anything about you...?" Anne tilted her head, a puzzled expression on her face. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Like... anything bad about me."

"That, I’m not sure. But I don’t think so," she said after thinking for a moment. "When Her Highness left, she chatted with the master for a ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) bit. They seemed to get along well."

"I see..."

Muen let out a long breath.

So in the end, Celicia hadn’t exposed the whole beastly act.

Was it for the sake of her own reputation... or because he’d saved her?

"Young Master Muen."

"Hmm?"

"I know this may be a bit presumptuous, but... I have to ask."

Anne suddenly crouched down beside the bed, the faint scent of flowers drifting to Muen’s nose. For some reason, her voice carried a strange chill to it.

"Are you so nervous because... when you were alone in that room with Her Highness, you did something to her?"

"Of course not!"

Muen shook his head vigorously, face taut. "That was the princess, for gods’ sake! If I’d done anything, I’d already be dead!"

"Is that so? I suppose you’re right."

Anne seemed to accept the explanation. She didn’t press further. Instead, she picked up the medicine bowl once more.

"Here. Time to drink your medicine. It’s already gone cold."

"Can I skip it...?"

Looking at the dark, murky liquid in the bowl, Muen’s newly recovered expression collapsed.

"I’m scared of bitter things."

"That won’t do, Young Master. Your first priority is to nurse your body back to health."

"But didn’t you just say I’m already healed?"

"Technically, this isn’t medicine—it’s a tonic. It only looks like medicine. And besides, I knew you don’t like bitter things, so I added sugar."

"Really?"

"Really."

"All right, then..." Muen stretched out a trembling hand. "Give it to me."

Anne: "..."

Muen: "?"

"Feeding you, Young Master, is part of my duties as your personal maid."

"But I can move my arms just fine..."

"Young Master Muen, are you trying to take away my only livelihood?" Anne wiped at imaginary tears. "If you don’t want me anymore, I’ll go hand in my resignation to the master right now. I’m just a weak little maid who knows nothing except how to care for you. If I get thrown out, I’ll be all alone in the world. And if I meet bad people, I’ll have no choice but to—"

"Okay, okay, fine! Feed me! Just please stop talking!"

Muen surrendered without a fight.

Come on—he was a duke’s son, right?

Getting hand-fed by a beautiful girl was the ultimate fantasy of every shut-in nerd!

"Here you go, Young Master. Open wide. Aahhh—"

"Why does this feel like I’m a toddler... Aahhh—ugh, bitter! I thought you said there was sugar?!"

"Oops. Maybe I misremembered. Now, come on, aahhh—"

"How do you ‘misremember’ something like that?! You’re definitely treating me like a baby! Aahhh—"

"You’re almost done, Young Master! Just two more spoonfuls! Aahhh—"

"I’m telling you, I’m not a kid! Aahhh—"

...

...

"By the way," Muen asked suddenly, "has anything bad happened because of that incident?"

After all, an assassination attempt on the Empire’s princess was no small matter. There was no way something that big hadn’t caused ripples during the three days he’d been unconscious.

And as his personal maid, Anne would definitely have investigated.

"There were indeed some consequences," Anne said as she cleaned up the bowl. "First, regarding the assassins’ identities—after the master interrogated them personally, it turned out the ones disguised as maids weren’t trained death assassins. They were bounty hunters who’ve long operated out of Bellrand’s underground, a group that worships a so-called evil god by the name of the Withering King."

"Supposedly, they’ll do anything as long as they’re paid."

"The Withering King... bounty hunters..."

Muen muttered under his breath.

From what he could remember, the original novel never mentioned an evil god by that name, let alone bounty hunters devoted to such a deity.

As expected... the novel’s scope was far too limited.

Muen sighed internally.

Novels are always written from the protagonist’s point of view—they can’t possibly depict a fully realized world, nor every development that happens outside the main storyline.

In other words, once the plot veers off from the book or drifts too far from the protagonist’s path, everything becomes completely unpredictable.

"You needn’t worry, Young Master. That organization was wiped out last night by the master himself," Anne added casually.

"...I see."

Muen blinked, then smiled faintly with relief.

Even though the story no longer followed the original novel, he was still a duke’s son.

He didn’t need to worry about how these things were handled—there would always be someone to deal with them in his place.

"And what about the mastermind who hired the bounty hunters?"

"That remains unknown for now."

Anne shook her head. "Every single member of the organization had a curse placed on them. The moment they’re asked that question, they spontaneously combust."

"Just as I thought..."

Anyone bold enough to launch a direct attack on the princess would never leave loose ends.

But even the beggars on the street knew there were only a few factions with the motive to assassinate Celicia.

"It’s said His Majesty the Emperor was furious about the incident. He’s personally ordered a purge of the rats in Bellrand’s underground."

"...Well, damn."

Muen let out a bitter laugh and muttered to himself:

"Looks like I’d better stay away from the black market for a while."