Chapter 106: The Peony Robe and a Fateful Diagnosis

After a month of meticulous care, the colossal topiary goddess statue was finally installed in Ashilton’s central plaza. There was a prevalent rumor that placing an earthen pot containing Nishan beneath the statue before the ‘Flower of the Empire’ ceremony would seize good fortune. Thus, the statue was to remain hidden behind a full screen until the eve of the festival. However, the entire installation process of the topiary was broadcast publicly. Only the design of the floral crown, personally chosen by Ethan, remained a secret.

“Are you seriously telling me I have to wear this!”

Ethan, visiting the palace for a fitting of his ceremonial attire, shrieked, a sound bordering on a scream, in utter horror. Bliss, after receiving the fitting shot and gesturing to the official from the event department and the chamberlains, wore a slightly mischievous smile.

“I heard you were the one who chose the peonies.”

The pristine white silk shirt and the breathable, flowing white trousers were acceptable. However, the long vest and robe-like outer garment worn over them were entirely covered in peonies of various sizes. In essence, the white shirt and trousers served only to highlight the elaborate, multi-layered clothing. Some of the peonies were so large they were recognizable as such even from a distance.

“During the crowning ceremony, the top of the topiary is quite high, so there will be considerable wind. The traditional attire for the ‘Flower of the Empire,’ marking the climax of the Spring Flower Festival, is historically a multi-layered, flowing gown. Her Royal Highness Princess Rosalyn, the previous titleholder, primarily favored small wild flowers or spring roses. However, Lord Ethan’s choice of large-budded peonies this time greatly delighted the designer.”

The event official’s polite reply offered Ethan no comfort.

“So, you’re saying this flamboyant outfit, in which a person won’t even be visible, was created purely to make a splash in the media…”

His words, though mumbled weakly, were laced with sarcasm. Yet, the seasoned official merely smiled amiably and gestured to the accompanying chamberlains.

“It’s a type of stage costume, Lord Ethan. To exaggerate slightly, it’s for ‘the global media.’ While most of the press will be curious about how Aitoolia’s national affairs, decided during the festival, will impact their own countries, this festival has become truly significant precisely because they cover it every time. Where else can you find such cost-effective national promotion?”

“What about the exorbitant cost of preparing the festival?”

Ethan retorted, though he knew his question wasn’t particularly valid.

“No one in the Aitoolia Empire has ever paid foreign media to cover our domestic festivals, nor have we invited them for tourism. In a way, isn’t this also a display of national power? If they’re already flocking here, spending a little extra to make it look splendid is, in fact, a profitable endeavor. So, Lord Ethan, you can no longer avoid the fitting. My chamberlains and I will assist you with dressing.”

With a face full of pride for the powerful Aitoolia Empire, the official ushered Ethan into the fitting room. As Bliss approached the sofa, smiling leisurely, intending to wait for Ethan, Huey, who had been present as an official from the ceremonial department, moved closer to him, his demeanor sharp.

“Why don’t you tell me now? Did I really have a seizure that day?”

Huey Cloud had woken up in the Moore family’s bunker after being affected by Bliss Moore’s Psychic Silence. He had experienced a foul sensation, as if all his energy was being drained, but had woken up feeling perfectly fine. This abnormality made him suspicious, especially after being told he had simply had another seizure.

“I didn’t realize you were so curious. I recall your condition improving rapidly immediately after your previous seizures, too.”

“My memory suggests that you, Bliss, have never recovered so cleanly after a seizure. Even after reviewing the Center’s data, the general statistics show that Esperes still need Guides after a seizure because…”

“Didn’t you yourself suggest that it might be due to your belated secondary manifestation?”

“…What.”

Though he couldn’t admit that it had been a long time since his own secondary manifestation, Bliss Moore was clearly hiding something, using that as an excuse. To challenge his contradiction, Huey would first have to reveal the timing and abilities of his own secondary manifestation. Since both of them were concealing information, he had to figure it out by observation.

*Click*

“Ugh…! The back of this even drags! I’m going to trip!”

“Do not worry. Lord Bliss, your matched Esper, and Lord Huey, the ceremonial official, will accompany you and assist you.”

“No, do we really have to make such a show of it?”

“Of course. Besides, it suits you very well.”

The fitting room door opened amidst a clamor. Bliss’s eyes widened, and he sprang to his feet. Huey, following his gaze, also looked surprised.

“Bliss, you said you were wearing a uniform! Isn’t this totally unfair?!”

Ethan’s earnest protests, his face pouting with indignation, contrasted sharply with his earlier prediction that the clothes would ‘swallow him whole.’ Contrary to his words, the outfit suited him unexpectedly well. With his jet-black hair, blue eyes, and elegant features, the beauty’s striking presence stood out even more, his vibrant patterns seeming to be perfectly framed and complemented by him.

“…Your waist has shrunk.”

Bliss cleared his throat awkwardly, diverting his gaze, and brought up what he had noticed in the interim. Ethan nodded.

“I know. I eat well, so I wonder why that is.”

After carrying Ethan from the restaurant to his private residence, Bliss had not sent him back to the viscount’s house. Instead, under the flimsy pretext that Ethan had been greatly startled and needed to see his former attending physician, Bliss was now consulting a cardiologist with Doctor Sera.

“You eat well, but you sleep a lot, so you sometimes only have one meal a day. Perhaps that’s why.”

“He keeps feeding me snacks almost as much as meals, and he says that?”

Huey’s eyes darkened as he listened to their conversation.

“…His sleep has increased.”

After Ethan re-entered the fitting room to change, Huey broke his heavy silence and asked. Bliss nodded.

“Doctor Sera suspects atrial fibrillation, an arrhythmia. If it truly is that, he’ll need the best artificial heart.”

It was an era where replacing limbs with robotics was relatively common. Organs like hearts and kidneys were incredibly expensive and difficult for even most nobles to acquire, but it was certainly within the Moore family’s financial capabilities. However, Huey swallowed a sigh.

An abruptly irregular pulse. Frequent shortness of breath accompanied by seizures. A sudden loss of energy and increased sleep. Weight loss.

It was conclusive. Ethan was addicted to his ‘new substance.’ Even a specialist wouldn’t find anything amiss. While he called it an addiction, it was effectively an infection. A single ingestion meant these substances, which didn’t dissolve or disappear in the body, would irritate his organs, inducing symptoms of atrial fibrillation (arrhythmia) or ventricular fibrillation (heart failure) at random times. There was no way a cardiologist could pinpoint that. Moreover, the progression speed and intensity of the symptoms were too erratic to definitively diagnose any specific condition.

If his suspicions were correct, Ethan would exhibit these symptoms to everyone and die within a year, ensuring no one would suspect he had been targeted.

Did Devon Green want Bliss Moore that desperately? Or did he want to destroy Bliss Moore that badly? Whatever the motive, it was unavoidable that Ethan Prescott emerged as the common factor. He felt pity for Ethan, who had been caught in a political struggle he never desired.

‘Am I truly growing fond of him?’

Lost in thought, he stared blankly at the door Ethan had entered when Bliss Moore’s exclamation suddenly broke through.

“Ah, perhaps that’s why.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Bliss’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he had suddenly recalled something. Huey waited for his answer, watching him organize his thoughts.

“Victor Frankl must have whined to His Highness Devon after being hit a few times and affected by my Psychic Silence. You saw him perfectly fine two days later, so you must have felt unwell inside.”

To brazenly say ‘a few times’ was an understatement; Victor Frankl’s face at the time had resembled a boiled octopus. Given his naturally fierce, carnivorous appearance, it would have been difficult to turn him into seafood without intentionally beating him severely. However, Huey, who disliked Victor, didn’t feel particularly bad about his condition.

Thinking that, Huey let out a small, bitter chuckle, then his face hardened.

‘Indeed. Why did I only think of it now?’

‘No, why doesn’t my chest ache as much as before when I recall Victor Frankl having s*x guiding with Devon?’

Huey remained rooted to the spot.

Somehow, a subtle chill ran down his spine.

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