MPNS Ch 11

Chapter 11

Nikiel could not understand what had happened, but he realized that he had collapsed during his walk and awoke four days later in exactly the same state.

He distinctly remembered giggling to himself while reading a book on magic studies, yet when he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bedroom—four whole days later. Before he could even ask what was going on, Paul came rushing in and let out a scream.

“Your Highness—!”

“Ah, my ears. What is it?”

Frowning at him in annoyance, Nikiel wondered what the commotion was about, only to see Paul, eyes swollen from crying, throw himself at Nikiel’s knees and begin to weep.

When Nikiel asked what was going on, he was told that the royal guards had found him collapsed and brought him back. Nikiel was dumbfounded. He collapsed? Why? He had no idea what had happened.

“Sob, sob—I thought Your Highness was dead!”

“…I’m clearly alive, so what are you talking about?”

“Your face was so pale, and you didn’t regain consciousness for four days…!”

“All right, enough. Stop crying.”

“What would I do if Your Highness died…! The palace servants already ostracize me because I serve a prince with such a foul personality!”

“Ah, so it was all about your worries then.”

Nikiel replied dryly. Yet Paul’s genuinely kind nature meant he had truly been worried, and after four days, he looked utterly haggard.

Because of that, Nikiel’s reassurances that he was fine didn’t work, and he was forced to spend another two days confined to bed.

“What is this water, anyway?”

During that time, Nikiel had received Paul’s devoted care.

To say it was devoted would be an understatement—it was so overbearing that he wasn’t even allowed to lift a finger to drink water himself. Even now, Paul was holding the cup to Nikiel’s lips.

No matter how many times Nikiel insisted he could drink on his own, Paul wouldn’t yield. In the end, Nikiel had to give up and drink as Paul fed him, sleep as Paul tucked him in.

Even so, Nikiel just could not get used to this water he was being given to drink. Eventually, he had to ask Paul what exactly it was.

Paul replied proudly,

“It is rosewater, Your Highness.”

“Ah, no wonder it smells like cosmetics.”

It reminded him of Na‑young, a junior from his master’s program, spraying something—mist or beast or whatever—over herself; the scent was similar. In that case, wasn’t this basically a beauty product? Why on earth was Paul giving it to him?

Nikiel eyed him suspiciously. Was he trying to assassinate him? Was this about harboring grudges from all the times Nikiel had been insufferable?

“Hey, you can’t just feed cosmetics to a patient.”

“What do you mean cosmetics? This is dew collected solely from roses at dawn! Do you know how hard it is to gather?”

Nikiel, of course, had no way of knowing. Nor could he understand why anyone would go to such lengths deliberately.

All he knew was that he had no memory of why he lost consciousness, and that four days had passed. That was all.

Seeing Nikiel’s blank expression, Paul snapped irritably.

“You yourself said that if you want your body to smell like roses, every bit of water you drink has to be rosewater!”

“…Ha, and that’s the only reason?”

Nikiel was flabbergasted. To make his body smell like roses, he had not only switched to rose-infused oils but even insisted all drinking water be rosewater.

The more he learned about Nikiel, the more deranged he seemed. Because of this, the palace attendants and servants had spent sleepless nights gathering dew from rose petals.

Even if it’s dew, it still collects on rose petals covered in dust—sure, the air here is clean, but is it really safe to drink? This is totally unhygienic.

Nikiel frowned.

“From today on, I’m never drinking this stuff again. Bring me rose tea if you must. No—forget anything rose-related. Just boil water and let it cool before bringing it.”

“Why would you cool boiled water…?”

Paul looked puzzled. Nikiel felt the same. Then where had the water he’d been drinking even come from? There wasn’t likely a well within the palace.

This country’s strange priorities baffled him. Magical and chemical research were advanced to the point of forging weapons and breaching fortresses, yet public health was oddly neglected. They sterilized wounds with alcohol, but drinking water was never boiled. Some things were astonishingly developed, while others still seemed stuck in the Bronze Age.

Could it be that I collapsed for no apparent reason because of this unhygienic world and whatever unhygienic thing I accidentally ingested?

It was a plausible theory. Otherwise, what else could explain suddenly collapsing in the middle of a walk?

In any case, Nikiel decided two extra days in bed were enough. He was about to get up and resume his morning routine when Paul delivered shocking news.

“Duke Boltwick has come to pay his respects, Your Highness!”

“What? Raymond?!”

The plan Nikiel had formed—to stop lying around, study more of this world’s magic using an introductory magic text, and take a walk after breakfast—was instantly ruined. He was irritated.

Facing Raymond for the first time since their sharp exchange in the hallway after the royal audience was hardly pleasant.

When had Raymond ever said anything that wouldn’t have warranted execution for insulting royalty? And now he suddenly came to visit during his illness? Nikiel couldn’t understand it.

Does he have one of those personalities that can’t resist pestering people he hates? Is the hospital visit just a pretext, and he’s here to take advantage of my weakened state to flip my quarters upside down—or assassinate me?

It was a plausible theory. There were far too many potential assassination suspects in this palace.

Narrowing his eyes, Nikiel pondered for a moment before nodding to Paul.

“Say that I am indisposed and must receive him in my chamber, and if he doesn’t mind, let him enter.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Nikiel thought: since Raymond looked down on him for seducing everyone around him, if he summoned him to the bedroom instead of the reception room, perhaps Raymond would sneer at the indecency and storm off.

But Nikiel’s prediction was completely wrong.

Within mere seconds of Paul relaying the message, Raymond opened the door himself and stepped inside.

“…Wait, Sir Boltwick—”

Nikiel, too lazy today even to wash his face, gaped in astonishment, ignoring Paul’s look of pure disgust. Raymond had entered far too quickly.

The youngest prince’s bedchamber door swung open, and Raymond strode inside. The coolly handsome man crossed the floor with long, confident strides, approaching the canopy-draped bed.

His bearing was so commanding it felt as though Nikiel were the guest and Raymond the host.

While Nikiel was still bewildered by this inversion of roles, Raymond swept his gaze around the chamber and finally looked down at Nikiel.

“I greet Prince Nikiel.”

Raymond smiled as he spoke, his words courteous but his demeanor no less insolent than a rogue’s, as though carrying spring wind in his mouth.

He dispensed with the proper courtly greeting of slightly bowing and placing his right hand over his left chest, offering only verbal courtesy accompanied by a bright smile.

Remaining still afterward was beyond absurd. Was that supposed to count as a greeting now? Exasperated, Nikiel spoke first.

“I am well. I presume you are, too?”

“I heard you were at death’s door.”

And what of it? What are you implying—that I look too well? Nikiel’s expression was incredulous, but Raymond’s smooth features betrayed no reaction. He remained smiling faintly at Nikiel’s bedside.

As soon as Raymond entered, the spacious bedroom suddenly felt cramped. In the original story, Raymond had been described as the tallest character.

Nikiel himself was tall—by conversion, likely around 180 cm—but Raymond towered over him.

What was the canon setting again?

Raymond was 194 cm, Yullan 191 cm, Lucian about 190 cm, and even Jikari, at 188 cm, was taller than Nikiel’s mere 180 cm.

Why are they all so tall? Even Nikiel is 5 cm taller than I used to be…

Perhaps this was simply the difference of Western physiques. Though according to The Golden Bough of Sansbrian, the Ossinis Kingdom lay closer to the east.

Not that all Ossinis people were tall—Paul, for instance, only reached Nikiel’s shoulder.

People overly tall often seemed top-heavy, giving onlookers a sense of unease. Raymond, however, had none of that.

His well-honed muscles rendered his body threatening; only his gentle, handsome features masked that latent ferality. Viewed separately, his build alone would inspire fear.

But the eye of an athlete can’t be deceived.

Those muscles were real—not the “water muscles” grown through mere gym work and protein shakes.

Even in slightly embarrassing Ossinis‑style noble attire, his wildness showed through his broad shoulders.

Frills and lace adorning his dress shirt did nothing to soften the intimidating impression his physique conveyed.

Were it not for his face, finely detailed like a painting made with a delicate brush, he would have been terrifying.

While Nikiel entertained these thoughts, Raymond’s finely cut emerald eyes swept coldly over his face.

The look was impertinent enough to make Nikiel wonder why, but then he realized Raymond must be here to confirm the rumors of his collapse.

I can’t figure him out…

Nikiel tilted his head inwardly. A few days ago in the hallway, Raymond had been verbally sparring with him—now he came to check if he was alive?

Moreover, the flower‑bitten smile on Raymond’s lips had deepened; clearly, he was displeased to see Nikiel alive and well.

If he disliked it so much, why didn’t he simply state his business and leave? Yet he stood there smiling in silence.

Suddenly, Nikiel sensed Raymond was weighing his usefulness.

There was something he needed from Nikiel, yet Nikiel himself was intolerable; Raymond seemed annoyed, but also reluctant to let him die.

So he hates me to death but still finds me useful? Nikiel hummed softly, curious to confirm, and spoke aloud.

“It seems my remaining days may not be long.”

Paul, beside him, looked aghast, as if saying, Yours?! He couldn’t interrupt the conversation between nobles, but his face screamed, What did I just hear?

Utterly useless… Nikiel clicked his tongue.

“Paul. Bring tea.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Paul promptly bowed and left the chamber.

Nikiel glanced sidelong at Raymond. If the man had truly come only to confirm his condition, he would have refused the tea and left already. Yet he still stood there with that faint smile, as though pondering whether Nikiel’s words were true.

Nikiel threw back his blanket. Since the guest was standing stiffly by his head like a grim reaper, he decided to personally invite him to sit.

As he did, his thin muslin nightclothes, meant for indoor wear, were revealed.

 

Footnotes

• Rosewater (장미수):  it refers to dew collected exclusively from rose petals at dawn, believed to carry aromatic and possibly mystical properties. It’s distinct from cosmetic rosewater commonly used in skincare.

• Court Greeting Gesture: Placing the right hand over the left chest and bowing slightly was a formal greeting for noblemen in the Ossinis court, signifying respect and loyalty.

• “Flower‑bitten smile” (꽃을 베어 문 미소): A poetic expression describing a smile so sharp or striking it feels as though one is holding a flower between their teeth—beautiful yet edged with mockery.