Chapter 1

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Bertie Rasped opened her eyes and gazed blankly at the canopy that appeared in her blurred vision.

Right after she heard the sound of water, she caught something moving at the edge of her vision. Turning her head, she saw a maid by the bed, wringing out a wet cloth over a basin on the side table.

"Miss, I'm sorry to disturb you."

The maid, who had carefully folded the cloth after wringing out the water, looked at her and—when their eyes met, she froze. The maid's eyes, which had been like a statue, widened in an instant.

"Miss!"

The cloth slipped from her hand, but the maid paid no attention to it, placing her hands on the bed with a look of relief and near tears.

"You're awake! Thank goodness...!"

Tears were clearly welling up in her eyes.

"Are you in any pain? Do you feel any discomfort or fever...?"

(What's going on?)

Bertie was confused by the maid's barrage of questions. It was incomprehensible that this maid, who had always despised and treated her roughly, would be so worried about her. She had never hidden her feelings and had always shown her attitude clearly. It was unthinkable that she would be concerned about Bertie.

Yet, what was this all about?

"Ugh..."

"Miss!"

Bertie winced and pressed her hand to her temple as a sharp pain shot through her head, and the maid exclaimed in alarm.

"I'll call the doctor and your father!"

The maid rushed out of the room, and Bertie sat up. Alone in the space, she pondered.

(What's really going on...?)

The maid, who had always shown no respect and treated her with disdain, was now so worried about her that she was on the verge of tears. It didn't look like an act, and there was no reason for her to pretend.

Her throat was abnormally dry. She couldn't believe it had become this parched after just one night's sleep.

The room's atmosphere was also different from what she remembered. The room, which had only contained the bare essentials, was now adorned with unfamiliar flowers in vases and cute trinkets.

"Ah..."

After thinking for a while, her head began to ache again, and she remembered one thing.

Bertie had lost consciousness after coughing up blood. As she faded away, she thought she was finally going to die. But since she was still alive, it seemed she hadn't died after all.

(It didn't end, then.)

Sighing, Bertie reached for the side table. There was a pitcher of water and a glass, so she poured herself a glass and drank it.

After quenching her thirst, she resumed her thoughts.

The maid had said she would call the doctor and her father. There was no way her father would come to this room—let alone visit her just because she had woken up after fainting. The maid must have said it out of spite.

Just as Bertie concluded this, she heard footsteps running toward the door. The sound grew closer, and the door was suddenly thrown open.

"Bertie!"

It was her father, who she never expected to see, calling her name in a frantic and desperate voice. Bertie's eyes widened in shock.

Her father rushed to the bed, and behind him came her brothers.

Her twin older brother and youngest brother called her name and stood beside their father, followed by an elderly man in a white coat, her eldest brother, and the maid. Even her usually composed eldest brother looked relieved when he saw her.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any discomfort?"

"Sir, I need to examine her. Could you please move to the next room?"

"Ah, right, of course. Please take care of her."

Uncharacteristically flustered, her father was led by the doctor and her brothers to the next room. Only the maid and the doctor remained.

"Miss, I'll need to examine you now."

"Yes."

The doctor took her pulse, gently pressed her abdomen and chest to check for pain, and continued the examination. His tone was calm and gentle, and his supportive attitude was evident.

He wasn't the family's regular doctor. She wondered what had happened to the regular doctor, but she had no complaints about being examined by this one. He looked more serious and his manner was more polite, which was obvious at a glance.

"Your fever has gone down, and the only concern at the moment is the headache."

"Just the headache, huh."

While coughing up blood was a more serious issue than a fever or headache, she was currently stable, and there were no other noticeable symptoms besides the headache. Still, she couldn't be sure when other symptoms might appear.

She found it overly optimistic to focus only on the headache, but before she could voice her doubts, the doctor began to explain.

"I apologize, I forgot to explain the details. Miss, you suddenly collapsed and were unconscious for about three days. You had a high fever the entire time, and at one point, your life was in danger."

"Is that so..."

Bertie averted her gaze and focused on the unfamiliar vases and trinkets.

The room's atmosphere, the attitudes of her family and the maid—what had changed so drastically in just three days? Was it sympathy because she had nearly died? No, that didn't seem likely for them.

"Unfortunately, we couldn't determine the cause of your unconsciousness..."

The doctor, looking apologetic, seemed to feel guilty about his inability to diagnose the cause.

"Wasn't the cause a disease?"

Bertie had been ill. The family doctor had diagnosed her condition as stress-related, but various symptoms had plagued her, including nosebleeds and coughing up blood. The last time, she had coughed up an unprecedented amount of blood and lost consciousness. What else could it be if not a disease?

Perhaps because she had been unconscious and unable to provide information, or because this doctor had deliberately made a wrong diagnosis.

She harbored doubts, but the doctor shook his head slightly and said something she found hard to believe.

"Miss, your illness was almost completely cured, so the possibility is low."

"Almost cured...?"

"？ Yes."

The doctor confirmed it, looking puzzled at Bertie's wide-eyed reaction.