The Abandoned and Terminally Ill Lady Married a Monster - Chapter 36
Chapter 36
‘What kind of girl could transform him so…?’
For the sake of the family’s future, she needed to welcome this girl with open arms. She had to make her feel so cherished that she wouldn’t even think of her own family or other men.
With renewed determination, Minerva visited her family’s estate, the Lizziana manor, for the first time in a while.
‘Are heirlooms too old-fashioned? Should I just give her the key and let her take whatever she wants?’ Minerva pondered, considering modern sensibilities.
‘What do young people like these days?’
Saving her son and transforming him from a wild colt into a responsible Grand Duke and a diligent worker had already earned her future daughter-in-law her utmost affection.
Minerva decided it was time to spend some money and went out.
***
“…So you have about a year left.” The doctor dropped his pen as if he, not I, were the one about to die. I stared at him, his face graver than my own. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened.
“One year.”
“Yes, one year. Direct treatment methods are only being researched abroad, so you won’t be able to receive effective treatment here. For now, all we can do is manage your symptoms and prevent further deterioration…”
I had an incurable disease. But I knew. This wasn’t an illness, but…
“Right now, it’s just a slight tingling sensation, but as time goes on, your organ function will decline, and you’ll have trouble digesting. You mentioned you’ve already coughed up blood, so starting today, we’ll administer nutrients and…”
I tuned out the doctor’s recommendations for palliative care and looked out the window.
Outside, the Lizziana family’s prized yellow tulips swayed on their stems. In about ten days, they would bloom, filling the air with their fragrance.
‘This will be the last time I see these tulips bloom.’
Silence fell after the doctor finished his explanation. He had been practicing medicine for over twenty years, he’d said. Yet, delivering a death sentence still seemed to weigh heavily on him.
Ironically, I, the one with the terminal diagnosis, felt fine. More than fine. Relieved, even.
I no longer needed to strive for love I would never receive. My heart felt empty, but light.
‘It was a relationship I had to let go of on my own. I never truly had anything to begin with.’
Accepting this truth had erased all expectation and desire. The weight that had been pressing down on me lifted. Instead of despair, I felt liberated.
After a long silence, the doctor finally spoke. “I’ll inform the Count.”
His words drew my gaze back to him. I smiled sadly and offered him more money.
“No. Keep it a secret.”
“…Then what about your treatment…?”
The physician stammered, his face a mask of discomfort. It was understandable, considering he wasn’t the family doctor employed by the Count’s estate.
I had summoned him discreetly while my family was away. Continuing treatment while keeping my illness a secret would be impossible.
He would grow suspicious, and the truth would inevitably come out. But if I had intended to consult the family physician, I wouldn’t have called in an outsider in the first place.
The physician before me seemed to understand this, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Watching him, I answered plainly, “I won’t accept it.”
“Pardon?”
“I never intended to undergo treatment. I only wanted to know how much time I have left. Please keep this visit confidential and leave.”
When I coughed up blood yesterday, I knew my time had come. I instinctively understood this wasn’t a simple ailment. This physician seemed oblivious, however.
“But… still…” He hesitated, seemingly reluctant to abandon a dying patient, driven by some physician’s oath.
What did it matter if he stayed or left? I was going to die regardless. And my life, even if prolonged, was utterly worthless.
I glanced at the clock. Muttering that someone would be arriving soon, he finally rose. I directed him to the hidden passage, assuring him he wouldn’t be discovered.
The mention of the passage brought to mind the boy I had met five years ago.
‘Kin. When will you come? I’m dying.’
I chuckled humorlessly. He wouldn’t come. Of course, he wouldn’t. He had probably forgotten me, built a new life, a new family, and was living happily.
I rested my head against the windowpane, closing my eyes, inhaling the fragrance of the last vestiges of spring. How had I lived these past five years without Kin?
‘Lived’ wasn’t the right word; ‘endured’ was more accurate. My mother, who had once shown me a sliver of affection, a shred of attachment, had completely severed our ties.
The twins, preoccupied with their peers at the academy, tormented me less frequently. While their torment had been painful, being treated as if I didn’t exist was far worse.
I had once again suggested to my mother that I might possess abilities, only to be slapped and told to stop my nonsense. So now, I keep such thoughts to myself.
And now—
“The Grand Duke Blashur has sent you a marriage proposal.”
