The Sub-Heroine's Butler Is a Vicious and Innocent Idiot

3. Frost Syndrome (2)

“Phew… Lady Eral is suffering from what we call Frost Syndrome, which, as of now, is an incurable disease. Pardon my boldness, but the fact that she’s still alive… is nothing short of a miracle.”

“So are you saying it can be cured or not? Just get to the point.”

A reception room in a grand, extravagant mansion.

A scrawny doctor sat on a sofa, wiping sweat from his brow.

Because sitting across from him was a muscular middle-aged man whose body filled the sofa entirely.

Arms crossed, glaring at the doctor, the man’s name was—

Eral de Arlot’s father, known as the Duke of the North—Eral de Lochni.

“Y-yes, Your Grace. It’s possible to alleviate the symptoms using magical tools that emit warmth, but the cold will only grow stronger over time. Even now, Lady Eral is likely enduring the pain of her skin feeling as if it’s being scorched by fire. That pain will gradually spread to her muscles, bones, and nerves…”

“……”

The doctor, who had been babbling endlessly about her condition, suddenly fell silent.

It was because, sensing the stillness, he had looked up—and met the Duke’s face.

A piercing glare bore into him, and his snow-white beard quivered along with the vein bulging from his forehead.

That terrifying gaze—belonging to the man who had once torn apart monsters and demons with his bare hands—must have made the doctor fear for his life.

“…Leave.”

“P-Pardon?”

“Useless quack. Get out of my sight!”

“Eek!”

An abrupt dismissal.

The doctor had no time to protest before fleeing the room in a panic, screaming.

He was in such a rush that he left behind his documents and medical instruments.

“……”

The Duke of the North kept glaring at the closed door long after the doctor had gone.

A heavy silence weighed down the room.

And the only person who dared to break it was the one seated beside him—Eral de Arlot.

“Father, the doctor wasn’t at fault.”

“Arlot… But—”

“There’s no need to yell at a guest. I already understand quite well that my illness is incurable.”

Eral de Arlot was twelve years old.

The baby fat on her face had started to fade, and she had learned enough etiquette to be considered a proper young lady.

But Frost Syndrome continued to eat away at her. Her face remained deathly pale, and her body was extremely frail.

“The royal physician has yet to arrive. He… he might know of a way.”

“I understand. But he’ll be the last one, right? Promise me that.”

“…Very well. I promise.”

The Duke of the North had summoned every renowned doctor across the land to cure his daughter.

But all of them had given the same answer—it cannot be cured.

Even in this hopeless situation, Arlot remained calm.

“I’m fine. Please don’t worry, Father.”

She offered her father a soft smile.

The Duke silently stared back at her.

The child who once laughed more than anyone, who was once so full of life—

Now smiled with eyes that no longer reflected joy.

“…I’m sorry.”

The Duke of the North gently stroked her head with his massive hand.

Her body was so small and fragile, it looked like nothing more than a stuffed doll in his arms.

How can such a small child bear such pain…?

He had spoken to countless doctors over time.

And what they all described was nothing short of horrific pain.

Pain beyond what one could feel from cutting off limbs or being crushed.

Arlot experienced that kind of agony multiple times a day.

“I’ll be going now. I promised to go on a walk with Schmitz. Could you help me?”

“…Of course.”

At the mention of Schmitz, the Duke’s brow twitched.

He didn’t particularly like that she prioritized a promise with a mere servant over a conversation with her father.

But seeing even a sliver of energy return to her face when she spoke of Schmitz—he couldn’t bring himself to object.

Click, click, click.

A harsh mechanical sound signaled her movement.

It came from her wheelchair.

“Are your legs feeling better?”

“They don’t hurt… but I can’t move them anymore.”

“…I see.”

The Duke of the North looked down at his daughter’s legs.

They were resting on the footrests of the wheelchair, stiff and unmoving.

Several months ago, due to the spreading frost, her legs had completely lost function.

He had hoped they might regain it—like melting ice—but…

Everyone around him already knew the truth.

That his daughter was now paralyzed from the waist down.

***

“Young Lady and His Grace the Duke have arrived.”

“I’ll be going now. Take good care of Arlot.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

I greeted Arlot in the small garden nestled behind the mansion.

I didn’t expect the Duke of the North himself to push his daughter’s wheelchair all the way here…

But if that was his only purpose, he soon strode off and disappeared from sight.

Now, it was just me and Arlot.

“Young Lady, the roses are blooming beautifully.”

“They really are. You did well. I didn’t think you’d actually get them to bloom.”

Before us, roses were in full bloom.

The Duke’s domain was cold and barren, making it hard for flowers to grow.

But with the help of magic tools and the other servants, I managed to create a small rose garden.

All for one reason—

“We didn’t have many flowers like this where I lived… Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

It was a line from Arlot in Party to Savior.

Just a throwaway bit of dialogue in a slice-of-life episode. Even veteran players probably wouldn’t remember it.

But for some reason, it had stuck with me.

And now, here I was—with a modest rose garden made real.

“They’re so beautiful… I’ve never seen living roses before. I think I finally understand why people love them so much.”

Arlot gently reached out to touch one.

Her eyes sparkled more brightly than I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t help but smile like a proud parent.

I’m glad she likes it.

It had taken a massive effort to get here.

I submitted a proposal at the monthly servants’ assembly, planned everything, planted the roses, and carefully tended them so they wouldn’t die…

All of that effort now felt worth it.

While she was distracted by the flowers, I pulled out something I had prepared in a basket.

I placed it on her head.

“Sch-Schmitz? This is…?”

“It suits you well.”

With a soft rustle, I placed it on her head—

A flower crown made of roses.

She reached up and touched her head, her eyes widening when she realized what it was.

It was worth the trouble of carefully trimming the thorns by hand.

Now, she was turning the flower crown over in her hands, inspecting it.

“So this is what they call a ‘flower crown.’”

“Yes. It’s a bit rough… but it’s a gift I made for you myself, Young Lady.”

“Heh… It’s obvious you’re a beginner.”

Since it wasn’t made by a professional, it wasn’t very round, and some of the flowers had gotten squished.

I didn’t have much time or many roses, so I had no choice but to give it as it was.

Thankfully, she seemed to appreciate the effort—I could tell from her smile.

“Schmitz, you actually have something you’re not good at?”

…Was that a mischievous smirk I saw?

Still, if she’s in the mood to joke around, that must mean she’s feeling better.

“Please, don’t tease me. I’m human too, after all.”

“I thought even if I pricked you with a needle, you wouldn’t bleed, Schmitz.”

“......”

She poked my arm with her fingers as she said that.

What does she really think of me?

Well, considering I still had my memories from my previous life, it was true I was a bit more capable than other kids.

Even now, at twelve, my daily schedule was no different from the adult servants.

Anyway, I was just glad the roses helped cheer her up.

She must have heard all kinds of unpleasant things from the doctor today.

I’d shown her the flower crown—now for the last surprise.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a single flower.

“…What’s that?”

“A gift for you, Young Lady.”

I handed her the flower with a sheepish smile.

Though calling it a “flower” might have been a stretch…

It was a wilted rose, its brilliance already gone.

And yet, I gave it to her because—

“The rose… it’s white?”

The bud she gently took into her hand was the same pure white as her hair.

It’s a shame it’s no longer in full bloom.

Among the few roses I’d planted, there had been exactly one white rose.

I hadn’t told the other servants—because the seeds were ten times more expensive than red ones.

I hadn’t expected it to wither before I could gift it to her…

“I planted it just for you, but… it withered. I’m sorry.”

I genuinely regretted it. I’d wanted to make a crown and then later tuck a full-bloom white rose behind her ear…

But that plan was ruined.

“…Are you really giving this to me? For real?”

“I-I apologize. I’ll discard it right away—”

“No! Stop, don’t.”

When I tried to take it back, thinking she didn’t want it, she quickly hid it behind her back.

“Hehe, no take-backs, Schmitz.”

“…?”

Without further explanation, she tucked the white rose behind her ear.

The wilted flower, once unimpressive, became an enchanting accessory beneath her beautiful face.

Maybe “appearance is everything” really is true after all.

“Thank you. For the rose garden, the flower crown… and this white rosebud.”

“I’m glad it was of some comfort.”

“…Yeah. Honestly, I wanted to die.”

Her sudden words stopped my thoughts cold.

She was gently toying with the white bud by her ear, her gaze fixed on the flowerbed.

“You know, they said it’s incurable.”

“…”

“Every day, I’m in unbearable pain. I can’t do anything I want—I just have to lie in bed. And even then, there’s no cure.”

“…Young Lady…”

“I… I want to give up every moment of my life. Because no matter how hard I grit my teeth and endure today, I know tomorrow will be worse. More painful.”

Her expression as she said this revealed no emotion.

It was like she was talking about someone else.

And that only made her suffering all the more apparent.

Then her gaze drifted from the flowers and settled on me.

“But… it feels like too many people would be sad if I died.”

Slip.

Her hand reached for my face.

Her cool fingers carried no warmth.

As I quietly accepted her touch, I felt a faint dampness on her hand.

Tears, warm and silent, had slipped from my eyes.

“You haven’t changed, Schmitz…”

“You’re still so kind, Schmitz…”

Memories from four years ago surfaced.

The similar words. Her hand wiping away my tears.

I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one who remembered that day.

“I’ll try to keep living. Even if there’s no cure now… maybe one will be found soon. So…”

As she whispered her vow, her eyes suddenly trembled.

“D-don’t forget you gave me this ‘wilted white rose’ today, okay? Got it?”

“…Of course. I’ll do my best to protect you always, Young Lady.”

I couldn’t quite understand what she meant—but I gave her my word just the same.

And I was truly relieved.

That Arlot had found hope to live once more.

…Though it seemed she was a bit embarrassed, as she kept avoiding my gaze.

Her pale ears, now visible thanks to her turned head, had turned a soft pink.

“Ahem… Schmitz, let’s go back now.”

“As you wish, Young Lady.”

I gripped the handles of her wheelchair and began moving slowly.

She still hadn’t shaken off her embarrassment, continuing to look away from me.

At the time, I didn’t yet know what the flower language of a wilted white rose meant.