I Want To Die One Day Before You - Chapter 233
The next day arrived.
“Baroness.”
As Iruel and Baroness Inferna sat by the window, chatting after breakfast, the butler suddenly appeared.
“There are people outside the manor.”
“What kind of people?”
“They’ve come to purchase Cytiro herbs. When I asked, they all said they traveled from different places.”
Apparently, at least thirty people had gathered.
The manor was not large enough to accommodate them all, so Baroness Inferna decided to meet them at the grain storage. Naturally, Iruel followed behind her.
“Baroness!”
The moment Baroness Inferna appeared, a woman broke away from the murmuring crowd and rushed forward, practically throwing herself to the ground before the Baron.
Seeing her, Iruel instinctively frowned.
It was an automatic reaction. The moment he saw the woman’s miserable state, the hardships she must have endured flashed vividly through his mind.
A single, soot-stained shawl barely covered her head and ears, and her cheeks were marred with ghastly purplish bruises. Her coat looked so thin that it was doubtful it could block the biting winter wind. And her fingers—swollen and discolored—were already showing signs of frostbite.
Just how far had she traveled in that condition?
“Baroness, I heard that Cytiro is here! My child is gravely ill! Please, I beg you, help us!”
The woman knelt at Baroness Inferna’s feet and wailed.
“H-Here! I will give you everything I have! Please, just sell me the herb!”
Her trembling hands held a single silver coin. Bowing until her forehead touched the ground, she pleaded desperately.
As she bent forward completely, Iruel finally noticed the child strapped to her back.
No more than three or four years old, the small child was wrapped in layers of blankets and cloth.
But even with all that covering, the child shivered violently—how had he not died yet? It was clear from his appearance that he was in a worse state than his mother. His face was sallow, the hue of someone who had gone too long without proper nourishment, and his sunken eyes looked hauntingly skeletal.
He was practically a ghost.
The only sign that he was still alive was the occasional, painful-sounding cough that escaped his frail body.
Is this truly what it means to be alive?
Baroness Inferna remained frozen at the sight of such despair.
“Honorable Baroness Inferna.”
A man suddenly stepped forward from the side of the kneeling woman.
“The weather is harsh, and this is just a storage room. Why don’t we go inside the manor and discuss this at our leisure?”
The thick leather coat he wore bore a gleaming silver emblem on the chest.
The moment Iruel saw that crest, he immediately recognized the man’s identity.
This bastard’s an apothecary, isn’t he?
No wonder he looked familiar. He had seen this man running around the capital, buying up herbs. That emblem—wasn’t it the insignia representing the alliance of apothecaries?
Iruel had a lot to say about them.
The conniving bastards who had shamelessly ripped him off, hiking up prices through their shady deals. The ones who colluded among themselves, driving up the market price through manipulation.
So what the hell were these money-hungry vultures doing all the way out in this barren land?
“At this moment, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the Inferna Barony holds control over all the remaining Cytiro in the Kingdom of Hevania. So, how about selling half of it to me? Of course, you may name your price.”
Speaking in an amicable tone, the man gestured to the servant standing behind him.
The servant struggled to lift a sack, its heavy contents bulging beneath the thick cloth wrapped around it.
“Here are one hundred gold coins.”
One hundred gold coins!
The crowd instantly fell silent.
It was a fortune beyond reach—something they could never hope to earn, no matter how many years they labored. Some among them had never even seen gold coins before today.
“As a gesture of good faith, I’ll offer this as an initial deposit. You, of all people, Baroness, must understand the true value of Cytiro. I trust you will make the wise decision.”
The apothecary’s gaze briefly flickered to the woman still kneeling on the ground, carrying an unmistakable trace of scorn.
The woman flinched and clutched the silver coin in her hand even tighter, as if trying to make it worth more than it possibly could.
