MTO C89

Chapter 89

“You mean your chest hurts whenever you think of someone…?”

The physician, who had been pale moments ago, faltered at Kaidan’s reply.

“Yes.”

“…Have you perhaps been sleeping poorly of late?”

“How did you know that?”

Kaidan looked genuinely surprised. It was true—he hadn’t slept properly for days.

Ever since that night when Michel had appeared in his dreams, he had barely closed his eyes. Each time he lay in bed, he worried that if he drifted off, he would see another ridiculous dream of him again, and that very thought kept him awake.

But the physician’s questioning did not stop there.

“Have you also found that your appetite has lessened, or that it’s difficult to focus on your work?”

“You seem to know me quite well.”

“Do your moods swing several times a day, leaving your chest feeling tight and restless?”

“That sounds… similar.”

“When you’re not near that person, do you find yourself wondering what they’re doing? Do you talk too much when they’re in front of you, only to suddenly lose your words? Does their presence lift your spirits—yet, when you see them talking with or smiling at someone else, do you feel an odd surge of irritation?”

Why does he sound so thrilled about this?

Kaidan frowned as he looked at the physician, who was now smiling broadly, as if delighted by some private amusement. The man’s flaring nostrils as he awaited Kaidan’s answer were rather unnerving.

Though Kaidan was starting to question whether someone so cheerful about a patient’s pain could be trusted, the doctor’s every symptom matched his experience precisely.

Indeed, when he didn’t see Michel, he grew uneasy—wondering if the man had gotten himself into trouble again. When they were together, he tended to speak too much, then abruptly run out of words.

Did he feel good when Michel was around? That much, he couldn’t be certain of. But it was true that their time together no longer felt uncomfortable. After all, now that he knew Michel was truly a saint and not some trickster, there was no reason for unease.

As for feeling angry when Michel spent time with others—surely not. Michel’s nature was like that of a stray dog: overly friendly and curious. If left alone, he’d manage to make friends with not only the castle staff but half the citizens of Valois as well.

Kaidan had even felt grateful for Michel’s sociability. His warmth and cheer had brought comfort to many in the castle. So even if he saw Michel chatting with someone else, why would that bother him?

“Sir David is truly amazing! Next time I see him, I’ll have to ask how he managed to take down ten yetis!”

At the sudden memory, Kaidan’s brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, he had felt oddly irritated that day when Michel had spoken about David with such enthusiasm. He didn’t like how Michel called David by his name, while addressing him only with stiff formality.

Michel called even the children, and Lawrence, by their names—so why not him?

At the time, Kaidan had simply chalked it up to Michel’s inconsistency. But now, could that too have been an early symptom of his supposed “illness”?

“Something like that,” Kaidan muttered.

“Ah-ha.”

The physician let out a long, meaningful sigh.

“Now I understand what ails you, Your Grace.”

“Is it curable?”

“It isn’t easy to treat—but not impossible to recover from.”

Seeing his reassuring smile, Kaidan concluded it wasn’t fatal. The man truly seemed to be an exceptional physician—one who could diagnose symptoms the patient hadn’t even noticed. If he said it could be cured, then surely there must be a way to rid himself of this unpleasant discomfort.

“What illness do I have, then?”

“Your Grace is suffering from none other than… lovesickness.”

A quack, then.

Kaidan’s expression instantly turned blank.

“There’s only one way to treat it,” the doctor continued confidently. “You must confess your feelings to that person. Then the situation will resolve itself—one way or another.”

Despite Kaidan’s withering glare, the man went on blithely, completely missing the hint. Kaidan thought the claim absurd, yet that ambiguous phrase—“one way or another”—somehow piqued his curiosity.

“What do you mean, one way or another?”

“If that person returns your feelings, you’ll experience the fulfillment of love. If not, their rejection will at least bring you closure. Even rejection can be the soil from which new freedom grows.”

At those words, Kaidan’s heart gave another sharp jolt of pain.

Clearly, he had miscommunicated his symptoms. If his heart could ache so easily, even at nonsense like this, then Michel had nothing to do with it. To link the pain in his chest to a specific person—that was laughable.

“That’s not what’s wrong with me.”

“Denial is always the first stage of love sickness,” the doctor replied cheerfully.

Kaidan’s stare turned cold enough to freeze steel. The man coughed nervously.

“Ah—perhaps I was mistaken, then! Forgive me, Your Grace. My lack of insight has failed you. Please pardon me.”

Despite his apology, the doctor couldn’t quite hide his grin. He clearly thought Kaidan was faking an illness—or worse, that he was too proud to admit his feelings. Either way, the man was convinced Kaidan was lovesick.

Kaidan considered correcting him again, but gave up with a wave of his hand. A person who’s already reached their own conclusion wouldn’t be swayed by reason. It was best to let the fool cling to his own misunderstanding.

“You may leave now. And see that not a word of this conversation escapes these walls.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The physician left the room with a much brighter face than when he had entered. Kaidan stared after him, incredulous, as the faint sound of humming drifted down the hall.

Perhaps it was time to find a different doctor.

Letting out a long sigh, Kaidan sat back and thought. The more he replayed the doctor’s words, the more ridiculous they seemed.

Lovesickness, was it? Was there truly anyone foolish enough to suffer from such a thing?

The first time he’d heard of that so-called “disease,” he’d scoffed. Falling in love was foolish enough—but to fall so deeply that one grew ill from it? That was sheer lunacy. Only a hopeless idiot could succumb to something like that.

And Kaidan knew well what became of such idiots. Love stripped them of reason, drove them to reckless acts, and ultimately led them to ruin.

Once, one of those fools had existed right beside him—his mother.

In the noble circles, where marriages were nothing more than political alliances, his parents had been a rare exception—a couple said to have wed for love. And so his mother had believed, without doubt, that her husband truly loved her.

But to Kaidan’s father, she had been little more than a decorative ornament.

The moment she became pregnant, his demeanor had shifted. He grew distant, indifferent. He despised her clinging presence, grew irritated by her affection, and humiliated her in front of servants.

Yet his mother could not accept the truth—that he no longer loved her. To the world, her husband still played the part of the perfect, doting nobleman, and she could not reconcile that illusion with the coldness she faced at home.

She convinced herself that his heart had grown cold because she had become ugly with pregnancy. Out of that madness, she tried again and again to miscarry—but failed each time. When her husband discovered her attempts, he locked her in her chambers until she gave birth.

Naturally, she never came to love the child born of that torment. Her love, long since drained, remained fixated on her husband. She blamed the infant for losing his affection.

So she cursed the baby who couldn’t yet speak, forced her still-frail body into exquisite dresses, and continued her futile pursuit of the man who despised her.

Her obsession only grew—until, in the end, she…

Kaidan ran a rough hand over his face. The doctor’s absurd talk had dredged up memories he’d rather have buried.

Still, it reminded him of one truth: he could not possibly be lovesick. He was incapable of feeling anything beyond mild human fondness.

Love, for him, was physiologically impossible.

No matter how beautiful a woman was, he felt nothing. And when someone gazed at him with admiration, disgust was his only response.

He could hear others gossip about him falling for “the most beautiful woman across three continents” and still laugh. How absurd, then, that anyone could think he’d fallen for the Saint.

The thought was so ridiculous he could almost laugh aloud.

Of course, he could admit that Michel was objectively attractive—his beauty otherworldly, his demeanor kind and gentle. Everyone in the land adored him. So if someone were to harbor affection for Michel, it wouldn’t be strange.

But that someone was not Kaidan.

He had once despised the man, and though now he respected him, that wasn’t love. To love Michel would be as impossible as the world flooding again with light—or dragons returning from extinction.

Truth be told, his chest hadn’t even hurt that much. He’d only summoned the doctor out of mild discomfort, and now it all felt like a ridiculous mistake. A good night’s sleep would likely clear it away.

The only reason it had worsened lately was his lack of rest. And the reason he hadn’t been sleeping well was probably…

“I see.”

Kaidan stood and reached for the sword leaning against the side of his bed.

Now he understood.

After years on the battlefield, a peaceful life had left his body restless and unspent. If he simply exhausted himself through training, he’d fall asleep easily.

Feeling lighter already, Kaidan left the room, intent on swinging his sword until his body was drenched in sweat.