Chapter 343 - Three Hundred And Forty Two
Camilla sat on the edge of the mattress for a long moment, staring down at her pale, trembling hands. Her forehead throbbed with a dull ache under the tight linen bandage, but she forced her mind to ignore the physical pain in her head. She needed to think clearly. She needed to make sense of everything that had happened during the dark hours of the night.
She closed her eyes and recalled the terrifying events on the forest road. She remembered the loud bang, the smell of black powder, and the bright flash of fire. She remembered the dark metal tube the assassin had held in his hands—the strange, dangerous weapon that had spat fire and smoke, throwing a small lead ball straight into Damon’s back.
It was a musket.
In this world, people fought with steel swords, long spears and wooden bows. Firearms like muskets did not exist in this era. They were never meant to exist in this original story. The author had never written about gunpowder or lead bullets when creating this book.
Camilla shook her head slowly, trying to focus on what was most important at this very moment. Her eyes stared blankly at the floorboards as the dark truth settled deep into her mind.
"There’s someone like me in this story," she whispered to herself in the quiet, sunlit room. Her voice was barely a breath, but the realization chilled her to the bone. "There’s a transmigrator here too."
Her brows pulled together into a deep, sharp frown. A dark mixture of anger, confusion, and fear battled inside her chest. She had been brought into this novel world to complete the story as punishment but now someone else was here as well. Someone who possessed modern knowledge. Someone who was building deadly modern weapons to alter the plot and murder the male lead.
"What is the author playing at?" she asked herself out loud, her fingers gripping the edge of the bedsheets until her knuckles turned white. "Is this some kind of sick game?"
Before her confused thoughts could spiral any further, a soft, polite knock echoed against the door.
"My Lady, Doctor Aris is here," the young maid’s quiet voice called out from the hallway outside.
Camilla took a slow, deep breath to steady her heart. She smoothed down the front of her nightgown, composed her face, and let her cold expression mask her inner turmoil.
"Come in," Camilla called out firmly.
The door creaked open smoothly. The young maid stepped inside first, holding the door wide open for Doctor Aris.
The old doctor walked into the quiet room carrying his leather bag. His gray hair was combed back neatly, and his round spectacles sat perched on the bridge of his nose. He walked slowly over to the bedside, his boots making soft sounds on the rug, and bowed his head respectfully toward her.
"Good morning, Lady Camilla," Doctor Aris said gently, his voice full of genuine concern. "How are you feeling today?"
Camilla raised a slow hand to touch the bandage wrapped around her hairline. She felt the dull, rhythmic throb beneath the cloth and let out a small, dry sigh.
"I feel like a boulder has been placed on my head," Camilla replied, her tone dry and honest.
Doctor Aris offered a small, sympathetic smile. He placed his bag on the bedside nightstand, opened the brass latch, and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a dark brown liquid.
"That is to be expected after such a hard fall down the stairs," Doctor Aris explained smoothly, placing the glass vial on the nightstand. "The swelling inside will subside soon. I will leave this medicine for you. Drink three drops mixed with warm water after eating your morning meal, and it will ease the throbbing pain in your head."
Camilla gave a short, polite nod of her head. In truth, she did not care much about her own head injury or her bruised back. She looked straight into the doctor’s eyes, her gaze instantly turning serious and intense.
"What about my husband?" Camilla asked urgently, her voice dropping into a tense register.
Doctor Aris adjusted his round spectacles on his nose and gave a calm nod. "I just checked up on him a few minutes ago. His pulse is steady, his fever has dropped, and the wound on his back is clean with no sign of bad infection or rot. Physically, everything is back to normal."
Camilla felt a slight lift in her chest, a small spark of relief washing through her blood. But Doctor Aris did not smile. His face remained grave, his brow heavily lined with worry.
"However," Doctor Aris continued softly, choosing his words carefully, "he is still unconscious. He shows no sign of waking up anytime soon. It is almost as if he does not want to wake up."
Hearing those words, Camilla bit her lower lip anxiously. A tight, painful knot formed deep in her stomach. If his mind refused to wake up from the darkness, he was still in great danger.
Doctor Aris stepped a bit closer, gently took her wrist to check her beating pulse, and made sure the cut near her hairline was not bleeding through the linen. Satisfied with her stability, he bowed deeply.
"Please rest today, my lady," Doctor Aris advised softly. "Do not push your body. I will check on both of you again in the evening."
"Thank you, Doctor," Camilla murmured.
Doctor Aris picked up his leather bag, turned around, and left the room. The young maid closed the door quietly behind him.
Once the doctor was gone, another maid stepped forward carrying a basin filled with warm water, soft cotton towels, and a fresh dress over her arm. Camilla allowed the maid to help her wash the remaining traces of dust from her face and arms. She changed out of her plain nightgown and put on a comfortable cotton dress. It was a simple gown without hoops, stiff corsets, or complicated ties, allowing her to move freely without putting pressure on her bruised ribs and back.
Once she was fully dressed, Camilla did not linger in her old bedroom for another second. She walked straight out into the quiet hallway, her steps quick and steady despite the dull throb in her forehead.
She walked down the long, carpeted corridor until she reached the door of the master bedroom. She gently turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The master bedroom was warm, bright, and quiet. Bright morning sunlight poured through the tall glass windows, casting a soft golden glow over the spacious room.
In the center of the room, Damon lay perfectly still on the bed. He had already been cleaned and dressed in a loose white linen shirt by the servants. His dark hair was brushed back neatly from his pale forehead, and the thick wool blankets were pulled up to his waist. He looked so peaceful, as if he were merely taking a long, quiet nap after a hard day.
Camilla closed the door softly behind her, shutting out the rest of the house. She walked across the room toward the bed, her eyes never leaving his sleeping face. She pulled up a chair and sat down right beside the mattress.
She reached out her right hand and took Damon’s hand in hers. His skin felt pleasantly warm against her cold touch.
Camilla lifted his hand to her lips. She kissed his knuckles softly, one by one. Then she turned his hand over, pressing a slow, tender kiss directly onto the center of his warm palm.