Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 35

As my consciousness flickered on and off, the color of the ceiling changed—from a dingy off-white to a pure white.

Though I had never been to the infirmary before, I instinctively knew where I was.

So, we’ve arrived.

The professor placed me on something soft and pulled a blanket over me.

Through blurred vision, as if I were underwater, I could see figures moving busily around me.

They attached something to my arm, covered my face with something else, and tended to me in various ways, yet my attention drifted elsewhere.

The professor was speaking to a woman in a white coat who had stepped out from the inner room.

Is that the infirmary doctor?

Her gaze turned to me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. When our eyes met, her expression briefly betrayed surprise.

Pushing the professor aside, she approached me, placing her palm over my eyes and whispering softly.

“If you’re tired, you should sleep. Don’t force yourself to stay awake.”

But I’ve already slept enough.

I opened my mouth to respond, but a sudden rush of air prevented me from making a sound.

Is that… a respirator on my face?

Come to think of it, I did have trouble breathing before I collapsed.

With even my arms immobile, I couldn’t express myself at all.

To make matters worse, the coolness of her hand soothed the heat from my eyelids, and it felt so good I grew drowsy.

I’m going to fall asleep again like this.

My memory ended there. I must not have been able to fight off the approaching sleep.

***

The soft sound of paper rustling woke me.

The fog clouding my mind began to lift, making everything feel sharper and more vivid.

How many times have I passed out and woken up now?

It felt like I’d repeated this cycle three or four times in a single day. It was starting to get tiresome.

How did my body end up like this?

It might be hard to believe now, but I wasn’t always so sickly.

I had no physical talents, but as a child, I had only suffered as many colds as other kids my age.

It must have been after I was captured by the organization that my body deteriorated. Even so, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when.

At the organization, healing magic had been used excessively on me. I wondered if I’d ever even had a chance to sustain injuries severe enough to cause this.

Of course, the lack of visible scars had emboldened them to treat me roughly.

Could healing magic have its limits?

If it only made things appear healed, wasn’t it crueler than not using it at all?

One or two uses might not have been an issue, but I practically lived on it.

It’s almost as if they were saying, We’re going to make you die slowly, painfully.

Well, they were demons who wouldn’t care about such things.

I chuckled faintly at the thought, causing the rustling of paper from my right to stop.

Turning my head slightly, I saw a woman in a white coat sitting nearby.

She was seated on a modern-looking chair, her legs crossed as she read a book.

“You’re awake. If you agree, just nod your head slightly. It’s probably hard to speak.”

I reflexively tried to speak but ended up nodding instead.

The respirator was still on my face.

It didn’t seem like I was having that much trouble breathing anymore, though. Couldn’t they take it off?

I lifted my free hand—the one not hooked to an IV—and fiddled with the respirator.

The woman sighed, came closer, and gently moved my hand away.

Ugh, how annoying.

“The ones who brought you have already left. They insisted I handle all the care and cleanup.”

Good.

If they were still hovering around me, I wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

Receiving selfless kindness once was enough.

“I don’t know why I have to do this when there are nurses for such things. What a pain.”

She tossed the book she had been holding backward.

The title caught my eye—it looked technical and daunting, a proper headache-inducing read.

No wonder she looks so tired. Reading that during her breaks won’t help.

She grabbed a stack of papers from the side of my bed and began flipping through them quickly, frowning as she read.

“Now, about your test results… What exactly have you been doing to yourself? I can’t imagine how a body ends up in such a state.”

Good question.

I was curious about that myself.

I thought I’d taken decent care of myself—or at least tried to survive, which should count as maintenance.

“The organs are barely functioning—at best. Some are nearly beyond recovery, especially your lungs and heart.

Your blood is at two-thirds the level of a normal person’s. You’re malnourished.

And your bones are so brittle, they might break if touched too hard.”

Worse than I thought.

I guess there was a reason for the respirator after all.

The more she read, the colder her gaze became.

It was the look one gives a terminal patient with no hope for recovery.

If I just left this infirmary, returned to my daily life, and carried on as usual, wouldn’t I naturally die in a few months?

That would be perfect, honestly.

“If left as is, you’ll die. I’m not joking.”

And just as I thought that, she confirmed it.

It’s not exactly good news, but it feels nice, I thought.

As I smiled at the peculiar sense of satisfaction, the woman gave me a strange look.

It wasn’t one of pity or concern—it was more like she was observing a patient’s condition clinically.

Was she already beginning to see me purely as a patient to be treated?

“Stay hospitalized for the time being,” she declared.

Ah.

The one thing I absolutely didn’t want to hear had been said.

My body froze, and so did my expression.

My faintly good mood plummeted off a cliff in an instant.

So, they were telling me to leave my refuge and live confined in a strange place?

Unpleasant memories began to resurface.

I could already picture the expression I must have been making without needing a mirror.

I tried to protest, pulling off the respirator and sitting up, but before I could get a single word out, a fit of coughing overwhelmed me, and I collapsed back.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Ah—hic—huff… Wh-what…?”

“Everything the doctor sets up has a purpose, dear patient. Don’t make this harder and just lie down.”

It felt like my lungs had shrunk to the size of a fist.

Even before I collapsed, it hadn’t been this bad. Why now?

The woman sighed, replaced the respirator on my face, and pushed my shoulders back to lay me down.

“Even if you don’t want to, you’ll be forcibly kept here, just so you know. Oh, and Albe already covered the costs.”

I let out a strained, raspy sound, utterly defeated.

Only then did I realize how long it took for my body to stabilize after that episode.

In the end, all I could do was watch as the woman left the room without uttering a single word in protest.

“Ah, right,” she said, turning back just before disappearing through the door.

“I’m the Academy’s medical director, Arlezienne Kayan. Pleased to meet you, Lady Remia Adelian.”

She brushed her platinum hair—which just barely reached her shoulders—neatly behind her ear and gave a poised, noble bow in my direction.

Her deep navy-blue eyes shimmered brightly, almost captivatingly.

Still clutching my chest and struggling to catch my breath, I could only gape at her in silence.

What’s with the sudden formal display?

It didn’t suit her at all—it was completely at odds with the way she’d acted so far.

“…I’d heard you value etiquette, so I thought I’d make an effort. But if you’re going to stare at me like that, it’s a bit awkward,” she added brusquely, pouting slightly.

Etiquette?

If it’s about my own conduct, fine, but forcing it on others was something I’d left behind in my days with the organization.

How did she know about that?

For some reason, I didn’t like her.

And it definitely wasn’t just because she was forcing me to stay hospitalized. Definitely not.

“Anyway, I’ll be back soon. Get some rest in the meantime. Ring the bell if you’re in pain.”

With that, she left the room. 

Only then could I relax my tense mind.

Of course, it was only my mind that calmed.

Ever since the sleepiness had worn off and I became more aware of my body’s condition, I had been feeling absolutely terrible.

My chest ached so badly I couldn’t even sigh properly.

My fever hadn’t broken—it had just lessened slightly.

Staring at the ceiling, I clenched and released my grip on the blanket repeatedly with each wave of pain, gripping so hard that wrinkles formed in the fabric.

I couldn’t even keep my IV-drip hand still, and before long, I noticed blood had started to backflow.

I lay there in silence, sweating coldly, until drowsiness crept in again, and I closed my eyes.

Why have I become so prone to sleep?

I didn’t like it, but in my current state, sleep felt like a much-needed escape.

As I drifted into slumber, worries about the future loomed in my mind.

What should I do now?

Judging by my condition, it seemed I wouldn’t be discharged for at least a week.

Could I handle that without losing my sanity?

…Of course not.

Here, even getting through the nights would be a challenge.

A day or two might be bearable, but anything longer would drive me mad—or worse.

There’s no knife.

I hated harming myself with my nails—it left messy, unpleasant marks.

Maybe I could find a syringe or a scalpel lying around.

Hospitals have those, don’t they? Surely, I’d get a chance at least once.

Haha.

See? The fact that I’m even thinking about this means it’s already over.

I knew I should stop, but instead, I was scheming for a way around it.

If the respirator wasn’t on, I might have laughed out loud at how ridiculous I looked.

What a sight.

I really didn’t want to continue, but just in case, I should keep an eye out for something sharp.

It’s only “just in case.”

If I find one, I’ll use it, of course.

But it’s still “just in case.”

That’s all it is.

“Excuse me, patient, I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but could you sit up for a moment?”

Roused from a light sleep, I opened my eyes slightly. My body felt so terrible that I was already irritated at being woken up.

“You have a visitor.”

Visitor? I furrowed my brow, unable to respond verbally.

I didn’t have anyone I’d call a “friend.” That much, I was certain of.

“They’re not your friend? Who else would visit someone in the hospital?”

“More like… something close to a friend. Less than a friend, more than a stranger…?”

“What kind of ambiguous relationship is that? Anyway, if you don’t want to see them, I’ll send them away.”

“Ah, um, well, Lady… are you going to send me away?”

From the voice, I could already guess who it was.

Sena again, huh.

It made sense—she seemed close to the maid, so she probably heard about my condition through her.

I shook my head slightly.

If she’d come all the way here, there was no need to refuse to meet her.

Sena had, at some point, become a fairly familiar presence to me.

“Less than a friend, more than a stranger” was probably an apt description of our relationship.