Chapter 68: The Ailing Are Lifted Up
“This way, Lord Stayle!”
After parting ways with Lady Pryde, I asked Stayle to teleport us to the western wing of the castle where Marianne's room was located. But from here, we’d have to go on foot.
Stayle ran after me, but his twelve-year-old body had limits. No matter how hard he pushed himself, he began to fall behind, his breaths growing shallow.
I had to reach Marianne—fast. But I couldn’t leave Stayle behind. So…
“Forgive me, Lord Stayle.”
I slowed my pace and ran alongside him. He furrowed his brow in frustration, glaring at me as he turned his head.
Without pausing, I placed my hand on his back and activated my ability. His body began to change—his legs lengthened, his shoulders broadened, and he quickly grew to match my stride. Stayle glanced down, his eyes wide as he realized the floor was now farther away.
“What did you—?”
“I thought this would make running easier. I aged you forward by about five years.”
As the transformation completed, his body became more suited for a fast sprint.
“Even other people…?” he muttered in disbelief.
“I can't change anyone's lifespan, of course,” I replied.
Then we ran. I glanced back once to see that Stayle was keeping up easily now.
The ability to manipulate others’ age—especially without altering their lifespan—was forbidden to be revealed without royal approval. If this ability were ever known abroad, foreign rulers hungry for immortality might wage war just to claim me. That’s why the Queen, the Prince Consort, the Regent, and I—as Prime Minister—all agreed to keep it secret.
This was the first time I’d used it on Stayle. Eventually, as a future Regent, he would have learned of it anyway. But right now, all that mattered was reaching Marianne.
I flung open the door and rushed in.
She was surrounded by handmaidens, all pale as ghosts and murmuring her name in alarm.
“Lady Marianne—it's Lord Gilbert!”
Ignoring everything, I rushed to her bedside.
“Marianne…! Marianne! It's me—Gilbert! Can you breathe? Can you—?!”
It was worse than I feared.
She couldn’t even speak anymore. Her breath was shallow and erratic, each inhale a desperate gasp. Her condition had deteriorated even since this morning.
I tried everything I could to ease her breath, but nothing worked. She was still suffocating. Even calling a physician now would be pointless. Even I, not a doctor, could see that she wouldn’t last much longer.
When she saw me, she smiled faintly. I called her name again, and though she could barely breathe, her lips trembled, trying to form words. But I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say.
“Please…! Don’t go yet…! I haven’t made you happy yet… I swore— I swore I would…!!”
I screamed at my own powerlessness and clutched her limp hand.
It was cold—so cold. I gripped it tighter, trying to warm it with my own. But no matter how much warmth I poured into her, her hand never regained its natural heat.
Even without Lady Pryde’s prediction, I could see it.
The end was near.
I kept whispering to her, squeezing her hand as if to anchor her to this world. But she gave no answer. Her condition didn’t improve.
Tears blurred my vision, and I could no longer see her beautiful face. Her breathing slowed even more. Her face grew paler by the second.
But still—still—her lips trembled, again and again, trying to say something.
“...Marianne… please… please don’t…”
By then, all I could do was pray.
Even I—who had done so many unforgivable things in the shadows—prayed that death wouldn’t take her.
All sound vanished. It was as if only she and I existed.
I could hear nothing but her labored breaths.
No… I can’t lose her… Not her…
I’m sorry, Marianne… I’m so sorry…
I couldn’t find anyone…!
Even after giving everything, I couldn’t find a cure, a way to save you—!
“Arthur—your ability doesn’t apply only to plants. Your true power is…”
A girl’s voice echoed through the silence.
Startled, I turned to see a figure who had appeared without me noticing.
That resolute voice—
That power Arthur had claimed was only for growing crops—
“Please take us to your fiancée,” (Pryde)
“But my ability only works on plants…” (Arthur)
I remembered her words. And his. Suddenly, my thoughts raced.
Could it be…? No. It couldn’t. That would be… a miracle.
“It’s the power to heal all forms of illness!”
With that declaration, a young knight—newly appointed this year—ran toward us.
Arthur Beresford.
The one I had hoped for, begged for, searched for—
The ability, the miracle, the salvation—
That person now stood before me.
Arthur placed his hand gently over mine and grasped Marianne’s arm.
A savior… had come.
“……! Ah—haaah…!”
She breathed.
At the brink of death, she gasped for air.
“Marianne! Can you hear me? It’s me—Gilbert!”
Before I could even comprehend what I was seeing, I called out her name over and over. I had to know this was real. I squeezed her hand tightly.
Please… please answer me… Just once more… reach for me…and
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