Chapter 48: Path Ahead
The world swam in and out of focus, a dizzying blend of pain and muffled voices. I felt hands on me, gentle yet firm, lifting my body. The scent of blood, my own and Lord Sapphire’s, was thick in the air. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, my breathing shallow, maintaining the illusion of unconsciousness.
I felt the jarring motion of being carried, then the soft give of a mattress as I was gently laid down. The familiar scent of my room, of polished wood and faint lavender, filled my nostrils. A wave of profound relief washed over me. I was safe. For now.
Hours blurred into a hazy memory of hushed voices, the gentle touch of cool cloths, and the sharp sting of antiseptics. I remained still, feigning a deep, pain-induced unconsciousness, even as skilled hands cleaned my self-inflicted wounds. The cut on my elbow was deep, a throbbing agony, but the long gash across my chest was thankfully superficial, designed for show rather than severe damage. They bandaged me with practiced efficiency, wrapping my arm tightly, securing the dressing on my chest. I heard the Chief Doctor’s grave pronouncements about my "shock" and "collapse," It was all part of the script now, a new narrative woven around my survival.
When I finally opened my eyes, the room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lantern. A maid sat quietly in a chair, dozing off. My body ached, a dull, persistent throb from my wounds, but the immediate danger had passed. I was alive. And I was in my room, safe within the manor, for the moment.
The next few days were a blur of quiet recovery. Meals were brought to my room, light broths and soft bread. Maids would check on me periodically, changing my bandages, their faces etched with a mixture of sympathy and quiet awe at my supposed ordeal.
Lady Sapphire visited often, her eyes still red-rimmed, her touch gentle but distant. She would sit by my bed, murmuring soft words of comfort, her grief for Lord Sapphire palpable, her worry for Evelina, as she still lay unconscious , was a constant burden.
Luminous, too, would visit, his usual playful energy subdued. He would sit on the edge of my bed, clutching a handful of nuts, his small face etched with a sadness that twisted my gut. He would talk about Evelina, about how she was still sleeping, about how he missed Father. I would offer quiet reassurances, playing the part of the recovering, traumatized adopted son. It was a constant performance, a tightrope walk between genuine empathy and calculated deception.
The manor itself was steeped in a heavy silence. Lord Sapphire’s death, officially attributed to Republican factions— people who wish to abolish the aristocracy, "when asked of the bodies of the said perpetrators, the household would reply with, their bodies had been quietly removed and disposed of", was a shock that rippled through the household. The guards were on high alert, their presence more visible, their faces grim. The atmosphere was thick with grief and a simmering undercurrent of fear.
During these quiet days, as my body slowly mended, my mind was a whirlwind of thought. Herald. His power and demands. His chilling pronouncement that my world was already ruined. I had to confront the reality of his proposal: becoming his student and him my mentor, he wanted nothing more than my ’special ability’.
I flickered my hand, and the system’s blue screen materialized before me, its blue light a familiar, almost comforting presence in the dim room. I scrolled through the stats, the overrides. The Glitch Coefficient was still the same, the Reality Divergence didn’t increase, that meant lord Sapphire death was actually canon. My Override Points still sat at a comfortable 24.