Salvation Through Delusion C11

Chapter 11

“What is it you wish to say?”

Her voice, though housed in such a fragile frame, carried undeniable strength. Even as she questioned me, her hand continued to move, pen gliding swiftly across the page. Lantua didn’t bother to look up, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

For a long moment, I simply watched her in silence. Yet she gave no sign of acknowledgment, not even a flicker of curiosity.

Eventually, I spoke first.

“It’s been a while.”

“What’s your business?”

Her formal tone wasn’t the polite speech of a younger sibling addressing an elder. No—it was cold, distant. A line drawn deliberately between us.

I hesitated, then glanced toward her chief secretary and said quietly, “You can’t be here for this.”

“That’s impossible,” the secretary snapped.

Lantua supported her without hesitation. “If it’s so shameful that you can’t speak in front of my secretary, then you may leave.”

“You’ll be the one who’s ashamed,” I replied.

She froze. Her pen fell still, and at last, she lifted her head.

For the first time, our eyes met.

I forced myself to stay calm, though my palms were damp with sweat. “It’ll take just one word. You’ll understand everything once I say it.”

There was something in my tone—earnest enough that she paused, studying me with quiet scrutiny. Then, without breaking eye contact, she raised a hand.

“Step out for a moment.”

“My lady—”

“Count to twenty and come back in.”

Reluctantly, the secretary bowed and retreated, though not without shooting me a look sharp enough to cut steel.

Good grief. What kind of disasters had Rue caused to make even the staff despise him this much?

The moment the door clicked shut, Lantua lowered her gaze again, her voice clipped and cold. “Say it. One word.”

Her tone made it clear she wanted this over with. Fine. One word was all I needed.

I took a slow breath and said, softly—

“Dr. Kim.”

Clatter.

The pen slipped from her hand. Her head rose sharply, eyes widening as shock and disbelief warred within those pale gray irises.

Emotions—confusion, horror, recognition—flashed in a storm that consumed her expression entirely.

I smiled faintly and gave the proper introduction.

“Good to meet you. I’m the new field agent—you could say I arrived yesterday.”

There were no paramedics in this world, but they did have something like it. Private, of course—more akin to a family-run emergency corps.

Ding-ding-ding-ding!

The next thing I knew, all the bells strung across the room went wild.

Dr. Kim’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed sideways in her chair.

“Wait—hey!”

I reached out too late. Before I could even touch her, the bells’ signal brought half the mansion charging in.

Dozens of servants and healers swarmed around, gently laying her flat, administering tonics, and placing the strange hemispherical device—what looked like a primitive oxygen mask—over her mouth.

I stood frozen.

I’d known she was frail, but this—this fragile?

Just hearing my name, she’d gone straight into shock.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, shoving me back.

“What did you say to her?!” the chief secretary demanded.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. What was I supposed to say? “Oh, I told her we’re both from another dimension, and she fainted.”

Right. That’d go over well.

She’d probably drop dead next.

“All I can say is…” I muttered weakly, “I can’t say.”

“Can’t say?” Her voice shook with anger. “You torment her for years, and now this?!”

She spun to the guards. “Get him out of here!”

Before I could even protest, hands seized my arms from both sides. I struggled instinctively—Rue’s body hated being touched.

“Let go!”

But the guards were massive, easily overpowering me.

“I’ll walk myself—let me go!”

No one listened. They dragged me toward the door like luggage. I was halfway out when—

“…Stop. Cough—cough…”

The frail but commanding voice cut through the chaos.

All heads turned toward the collapsed woman.

“My lady!” cried the secretary.

“Let him… cough… go.”

No one moved at first. Then, forcing her eyes open, Dr. Kim gasped hoarsely—

“Let go of my brother, you bastards!”

And with that, she fainted again.

—

It took a week for Dr. Kim to recover enough to speak properly again.

She drifted in and out of consciousness during that time, but every time she woke, she asked for me.

Every. Single. Time.

And every time, she’d grab my hand and sob uncontrollably, her frail body shaking with tears while everyone around us stared in horror.

What did you do to our lady?!

Their faces said it all—they thought I’d poisoned her or something.

Luckily, her healers and mages confirmed I hadn’t harmed her. Once that cleared, confusion replaced suspicion.

Why would our lady cry for him?

Honestly, I wanted to ask the same thing.

I hadn’t even explained anything yet, and she’d grown so attached she couldn’t relax unless I was in the same room. Every time I left, she’d panic until someone fetched me back.

She’d hold my hand again, sob some more, and the cycle repeated.

It got so bad the doctors started forcibly separating us out of concern for her heart.

At that point, I figured I needed an excuse—any excuse—to explain all this.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to make one up.

News from the retreat finally reached the mansion.

“What? You were attacked by a monster at the retreat?!”

“Unbelievable—her parents died to monsters, and now this? No wonder the lady fainted!”

I hadn’t said a word, but the story spread on its own. Everyone assumed Lantua’s collapse came from trauma—memories of losing her family nearly repeating.

That rumor saved me.

People started viewing her tears as grief, not madness.

And me? They decided I must’ve been a comforting presence, staying by her side to calm her nerves.

Just like that, I went from “the disgrace of the family” to “the devoted brother.”

In a week, the mansion’s entire attitude toward me flipped.

The butler who once scolded me now spoke gently.

“Lord Rue,” she said one morning, “the guest you brought back from the retreat has regained consciousness.”

I had just woken up after finally getting to sleep in my own bed.

The news hit like sunlight through a window.

The “guest” was safe—and receiving the best care possible, surrounded by elite healers.

Good. The little spirit would be thrilled; she’d been fluttering around daily, chirping about her “flower petal” with worry.

“And the lady requests your presence after breakfast. She says she’s ready to speak with you.”

My spoon froze midair.

It was what I’d been waiting for—but somehow, dread outweighed relief.

“How’s her condition?”

“Same as usual.”

“Her usual?” I repeated dryly. “You mean the same ‘usual’ where she fainted when I spoke?”

“Excuse me?”

The butler’s kindly expression hardened instantly. Her eyes sharpened, like a wolf scenting blood.

I raised my hands placatingly. “Nothing. Just asking.”

Still, anxiety gnawed at me. She’d fainted just from hearing her name. If I told her why I was actually here… would her heart just stop?

‘Don’t worry,’ came her calm voice hours later, seated once more at her desk, oxygen tube now looped around her neck. ‘Just say it. I won’t die on you.’

Right. If you say so.

The desk was surrounded by bottles—medicine, tonics, stimulants—all within easy reach.

I swallowed hard.

“Then you know why I came to you,” she said. “That means the scroll I sent through the Eye of Hell reached your world after all, didn’t it?”

“Yes. Not completely, though. Most of the data was damaged.”

“Hmm.” Relief softened her eyes. “I didn’t expect it to arrive intact anyway. But to know it worked at all… that’s a miracle.”

“How did you even survive, though? Back when you crossed, Dr. Kim, they hadn’t figured out how to transmit nanorobotics through dimensional barriers. I heard you attempted a direct implantation experiment—it shouldn’t have been possible.”

That’s what the records said, at least. No antenna, no tether, no stabilizer. She shouldn’t have lived.

“Miracle,” she said simply.

Her gaze drifted upward, lost somewhere far beyond the ceiling—as if peering through time itself.