Second Life, I’m Dying Soon

Chapter 9

When Cecil opened his eyes again, he thought he had woken up at a funeral. The attendants were gathered around him, sniffling and wiping their tears.

A sigh escaped him. As Cecil shook his head in irritation, his dark brown hair, buried in the pillowcase, swayed from side to side.

“Did I die or something? Why are you all bawling like this?”

“Ugh, Lord Cecil—!”

Among them, Leo was the most pitiful sight. Perhaps because he had witnessed Cecil collapse right before his eyes, he couldn’t stop crying even now. His nose was running, forming little bubbles that popped in and out as he sniffled.

Cecil waved away the hands reaching out to support him and sat up on his own.

Considering how much pain he had been in before, his body felt surprisingly light. The agony had been intense in the moment, but thankfully, it seemed to leave no lingering effects.

“I’m fine, so cut it out already. If you have nothing better to do, at least bring me something refreshing to drink.”

He shooed them away impatiently. As soon as he spoke, the attendants scattered in different directions—one rushing to fetch his favorite fruit wine, another hurrying to bring freshly baked cookies.

With the noisy bunch gone, he could finally breathe. Cecil ruffled his disheveled bangs and lazily rubbed the back of his neck.

As he stretched, tilting his head from side to side until it touched his shoulder, he suddenly caught sight of a faint silhouette beyond the canopy.

Cecil froze for a moment.

Leaning forward and gripping the edge of the bed, he finally got a clear view of the figure hidden behind the sheer white curtain.

His widened eyes darted up and down. His startled gaze landed on a familiar face, and his lips parted in surprise.

“Your Highness… Why are you here?”

“I had business to attend to, but I arrived just in time to witness the commotion.”

Alexis was leaning lazily against the back of the sofa where Cecil had been sitting earlier, his elbow resting on it. In his hand, a handkerchief dangled, hinting at the reason for his visit.

With a brief sigh, Alexis walked over. Not only did he push Cecil back down when he tried to get out of bed, but he also prodded his shoulder, making him lie back against the mattress.

“For the sake of your pitiful attendants, why don’t you stay put for a while?”

“I’m fine.”

“At least pretend to be.”

His indifferent tone made it hard to tell whether he was genuinely concerned or just mocking him.

One thing was certain—Cecil found it difficult to refuse Alexis’s orders. So, as instructed, he leaned against the plush pillow, blinking his large eyes.

Alexis stared down at him for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle.

“You’re weaker than I thought.”

“…….”

“Or maybe you’re just as frail as you look?”

Despite his height, Cecil’s frame appeared delicate, as if he might break at any moment. Raised in the palace on only the finest meals, his hair and skin gleamed with a healthy sheen, yet he never seemed to gain weight. His arms and legs were slender, and his waist—barely visible beneath the thin fabric of his clothes—was anything but masculine.

“And with wrists like these, do you really think you can hold a sword?”

Alexis grasped Cecil’s thin wrist and gave it a slight shake. Horrified, Cecil jerked his hand away.

“I have no reason to use a sword in the first place.”

“As a member of the royal family, you should at least know the basics.”

“Then why don’t you teach me, Your Highness?”

“What?”

Alexis laughed, as if the idea was utterly absurd.

He plopped down onto the stool beside the bed, crossing his arms and loosely folding one leg over the other. Seated like that, he was roughly at eye level with Cecil, who lay in bed.

“Do I look that idle to you?”

“And do you think I actually want to learn? As you said, I am a member of the royal family, which means I can’t just learn from anyone.”

“The tuition won’t be cheap.”

“How much?”

He snapped back in a sharp tone, shooting him a glare. There was something about the way the usually cynical prince had a slight smirk playing on his lips that made it hard to look away. Even knowing full well that he was someone he could never have, Cecil’s heart betrayed him by skipping a beat.

Alexis tapped his knee with long fingers, lost in thought before finally speaking.

“I heard from the nanny. Thanks to you, she avoided disaster.”

“…….”

“I should offer my gratitude. Consider the lessons my way of repaying you. Once you’re feeling better, send word to Saint Palace.”

With that, he rose from his seat without hesitation, signaling the conversation was over. Cecil sat there, dumbfounded, as Alexis strode toward the door.

“Wait, seriously?!”

Alexis left the room without looking back, leaving Cecil’s bewildered voice hanging in the air. Just then, a group of attendants entered, carrying trays stacked with food for him. As they bowed their heads respectfully, Alexis paid them no mind—his cold gaze instead landing on the silver tray.

Purely sweet and delightful things.

“You’ve still got a child’s palate.”

Tossing out a brief remark, he resumed walking.

***

Hope had already begun to sprout. If things went well, he might be able to establish a connection with Alexis. Cecil added another goal to his life’s ambitions.

To make Alexis emperor. And to become his right-hand man. No, Claude Vandell had likely already claimed that spot, so perhaps his left hand instead…?

Of course, there were less than three years left, but if this atmosphere continued, it wasn’t entirely impossible. If he could accomplish this wish, he felt he could close his eyes in peace.

He wasn’t asking for love. Trust alone would be enough.

Tap, tap.

A long pointer lightly struck Cecil’s hand. The action, meant to snap him out of his wandering thoughts, made him shift his gaze from the window back to his desk.

His private tutor, Viscount Gerald, spoke in a deliberately stern voice.

“This is no time for daydreaming. You need to finish these problems.”

“……”

“Staring at me like that won’t change anything! Didn’t we just cover this material today? How can someone supposedly so bright be struggling with this?”

Cecil pursed his lips and played dumb.

“That was all just an overblown rumor. You must have realized my true nature by now, Viscount.”

At those words, Gerald clutched his chest in frustration. Since he couldn’t bring himself to strike Cecil’s back, he resorted to thumping his own instead.

Unbothered, Cecil hummed a tune as he scribbled another incorrect answer onto the paper. A sigh of despair came from his tutor.

Cecil had started advanced lessons a few days ago. Imperial history, foreign languages, theology, diplomacy, mathematics—even political theory under the empress’s secret orders.

Of course, all of this knowledge was already in Cecil’s head. He had learned it in his previous life, so it was only natural that he remembered it perfectly.

But he deliberately pretended to be slow, as if he didn’t understand a thing. What was the point of showing off his intelligence? It would only inflate his mother’s expectations and make Alexis misunderstand him. Staying in the role of an airheaded noble was far more beneficial.

Gerald was the only unfortunate one in this situation. As the most renowned private tutor in the empire, his reputation was taking a hit.

Resting his chin on his hand, Cecil absentmindedly observed the way Gerald’s curled mustache twitched. Sensing the gaze, the viscount narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Viscount.”

Cecil’s previously lowered gaze sharpened as he raised his head. This was a good chance to run a test.

“I have a bit of an eye for

clairvoyant