Obsession... What's That? I Just Wish Someone Would Help Me Escape - Chapter 42
Do I have some special value for them?
Given how they treat me like a human pillow or bolster, it’s not like he’s fallen in love with me.
They’re already the strongest and said only Justina’s purification power works on them, so they can’t be counting on my potential to manifest the power of Sloth.
These guys are so bizarre that I couldn’t help but be suspicious in many ways.
Yet, maybe because they hadn’t left me behind, I felt relieved.
As my vision blurred and my consciousness flickered out, I heard Johann’s hoarse voice.
When I woke up again, the prisoner Johann had brought was looking at me with a tearful expression.
The twitching mustache indicated he had been brought here under duress.
“Prisoner Number 49 is awake. Can I go now?”
“Good job. You can leave once you’ve cured her.”
Johann, the delinquent himself, was lying down with his arms crossed, looking at me.
So, he didn’t bring that prisoner to use as medicine.
It seemed the prisoner was a healer.
“The cold should be gone now.”
“You’re a healer, aren’t you? Fix this kid’s tendency to collapse all the time.”
“That’s a congenital condition, I can’t really do anything about it…”
“You’re saying that without even trying. No persistence.”
Johann’s sharp eyes grew even more menacing.
The prisoner cowered, clutching his head.He must have taken a few blows before I woke up.
“What a thug…”
I mumbled involuntarily.
Johann sprang up, glaring at the innocent prisoner.
“Did you just call me a thug? Want to get hit?”
“I didn’t say anything!”
That man, I can’t tell if his hearing is sharp or dull.
Anyway, thanks to the treatment, my body felt much lighter.
The scratchy feeling in my throat was gone, and the chills had subsided.
I looked at Johann and parted my dry lips.
“I think I’m much better now.”
My voice was still raspy.
Johann gestured to the prisoner.
“Really? You can go now. Fix the door on your way out.”
“I can heal illnesses, but I can’t fix doors…”
“Fine, just go.”
The prisoner bowed and hurried out.
I looked at Johann and expressed my gratitude.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Hmm, you sound like an eighty-year-old man.”
“That’s harsh to say to a sick person.”
I saw Enrique entering through the door the prisoner had left open.
He looked at me calmly, then smiled sweetly.
I noticed a trowel in his hand.
“Lady 49, you’re tougher than I thought. I was going to bury you if you died, so I found this shovel.”
Where did he even get that?
And why do these men treat my life like it’s insignificant?
Johann snickered, looking at the trowel in Enrique’s hand.
“With a trowel, you’ll be digging forever.”
“This was the best I could find. I even got some Cayes root.”
Enrique pulled out a root that looked like wild ginseng and held it out to me.
“I was going to give it to you if you were still alive. Looks like it came in handy.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an ingredient for a healing potion. Ask Johann to make it for you.”
Johann raised an eyebrow, looking annoyed.
“Do I look like a nanny?”
Still, he grabbed the root and headed somewhere.
I suddenly felt curious about why they were helping me and what exactly I was needed for.
“Your Highness, Johann said you guys are helping me because you had many different needs for me. Do you know exactly what he meant?”
Surely, they weren’t planning to use me as bait or a sacrificial lamb when they’d pull an escape attempt?
His golden eyes moved diagonally as if pondering my question.
“Maybe because prison life is boring?”
“Pardon?”
“It’s like the fun of taking care of a delicate plant that wilts if you make the slightest mistake. Just looking at it makes you feel good.”
What kind of analogy is that?
Comparing me to a weak pufferfish plant that wilts and loses its leaves at the slightest overwatering…
Actually, now that I think about it, it does seem somewhat accurate.
“I’ve had every disease in the world, but I never died.”
At my calm tone, Enrique smiled.
“You do have a tenacious hold on your lifeline.”
That’s right, it’s a long, but thin rope.
So they were relieving their boredom in prison by observing someone like me?
“I’ve heard that dual-ability users, those with both magical and holy powers, often have long lives despite being sickly. The one I knew lived a long time while always on the brink of death.”
Enrique’s words made me widen my eyes in surprise.
Could this man know the cause of my illness, something my late parents spent years searching for but never uncovered?
