Is This Woman Sick?

Beneath a field of flowers surrounding the duke’s territory lay a small hidden chamber.

“Who’s going to check the air valve? This place is suffocating.”

Young Adrian stood at the center of the room, tugging at his collar.

Before him stood a row of raggedly dressed individuals, gazing at him with pitiful eyes.

“Everyone!” Adrian began his address. “You were all sentenced to the Southern Wall for minor offenses…”

“…But you’re lucky—you can all read. So now, you have a choice.” Adrian paused. “You can either continue your exile to the Southern Wall, never see your families again, be forced to share quarters with hostile and aggressive convicts, suffer endless humiliation, and eventually die miserably…”

A few listeners instinctively shook their heads.

“Or,” Adrian continued, “you can join us and work here. Your movement will be restricted, yes—but the benefits are excellent.”

After speaking, Adrian watched their reactions, then raised his hand and extended three fingers.

“Your starting pay will be this much,” he said.

“Thirty silver coins?” asked a young man named Martin.

Adrian shook his head, still smiling.

“Three gold coins. Per month.” Adrian’s voice was calm. “You won’t even spend it all—you can send the rest home to your families.”

“Wow!” The crowd gasped in disbelief.

“But… what exactly is our job?” Martin asked.

Adrian clapped his hands and nodded toward a servant.

Two male servants quickly wheeled in two crystal coffins.

Inside each lay the corpse of an adult man.

“Take a good look at these two bodies,” Adrian said. “What’s different about them?”

“One is shriveled, the other well-preserved,” Martin answered.

Martin was bold; others around him had already covered their eyes.

“On the surface, yes,” Adrian nodded.

He walked over to the better-preserved corpse and signaled the servants to lift the lid.

The ragged group braced themselves, expecting a wave of putrid stench.

But after a long moment—nothing. No smell at all.

“Come closer,” Adrian said.

He picked up a thin wooden stick and pried open the corpse’s mouth.

Enormous, razor-sharp canines gleamed in the dim light.

“This body,” Adrian said, “is actually that of a monster. The one beside it is a human—drained dry of blood by that very creature.”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Adrian’s expression turned grave. “These monsters hide among beggars, merchants, soldiers—even nobles of the kingdom. They look human, feed on human flesh or blood, move faster than any man, possess terrifying strength, and are immortal…”

Fear flickered across the listeners’ faces, yet curiosity kept drawing their eyes back to the monster’s corpse.

Those jagged fangs sent chills down their spines.

“We call these creatures ‘Evil Seeds,’” Adrian said, lowering the stick. “And our mission is to hunt them down.”

“But, my lord… I don’t even know how to use a sword,” Martin spoke up again.

The others nodded anxiously, their eyes pleading.

Adrian sighed. “Don’t be so nervous. Your job isn’t to kill them. I know you’re all clerks—soft-handed scholars, not warriors.”

“Then… what do you need us for?” Martin asked.

“Every day,” Adrian explained, “this chamber receives letters from all over the kingdom—reports about ‘Evil Seeds.’ Your task is to verify their credibility, extract useful information, and maintain accurate records.”

“That’s it?” Martin asked, surprised.

“Don’t underestimate this work,” Adrian said firmly.

Martin nodded slowly, still uncertain.

“Take your time to decide,” Adrian said, pointing to the door. “If you don’t want the job, walk out that door. Kingdom soldiers will be waiting to escort you back to the Wall.”

Silence filled the room. No one moved.

Martin stared at the boy before him, awe stirring in his chest.

Adrian was the same age as his younger brother—but while his brother was still a child begging to visit the market, this boy spoke like a seasoned commander, with a presence far beyond his years.

Was he a reincarnated god? A genius?

Or… a demon?

****

At this time of year, night fell early. Stars and the moon already dotted the sky.

The small estate was still lit, but the back garden lay in complete darkness.

The only light came from a pavilion nestled among the flowers.

There, a golden glow stood out starkly against the black night.

Adrian had just returned from the secret chamber beneath the flower field. He sat in the pavilion, a thread-bound journal open in his lap.

He alternated between gazing up at the sky and jotting down notes about the night’s star positions.

This was critical work—he needed these observations to calculate celestial orbits.

Why calculate star trajectories?

Not out of hobby, but necessity.

Adrian had to confirm whether this world was real.

And star patterns were the key.

He’d been doing this for years—ever since he could first hold a pen, he’d watched the stars.

Only after confirming the world’s authenticity could he properly begin his mission to save it.

Otherwise, what if he poured his soul into saving a fake world?

That would be unbearable.

Calculating star paths wasn’t easy.

It demanded vast knowledge, a sharp mind, endless patience—and it was dreadfully boring.

Adrian had all the prerequisites, and he could endure monotony.

Among those twinkling stars, what secrets lay hidden?

He wrote without pause.

Beside him sat a small lamp—not the usual oil lamp or candlestick.

On the stone table in front rested a plate of sliced black bread. Occasionally, Adrian would take a piece and eat it.

Eating was also important work.

He needed constant nourishment—all for the sake of saving the world.

“…”

Suddenly, Adrian heard a faint rustle nearby.

“Good evening.”

The voice belonged to Ilisia, the second daughter of Duke Wenser.

What was she doing here?

“I’ve come to apologize,” Ilisia said, holding a gift box as she sat down beside him. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you yesterday.”

Now that truly was a miracle.

“I forgive you,” Adrian said flatly, without turning his head. “It’s late. If there’s nothing else, please leave.”

Ilisia didn’t move.

Adrian had a bad feeling.

She glanced at the thread-bound journal in his hand—filled with curves, ellipses, dense annotations, and strange symbols she couldn’t decipher.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Observing stars. Recording how their positions change,” Adrian replied.

Ilisia looked up, puzzled. “Don’t stars stay still?”

“They’re moving all the time,” Adrian said.

Something stirred in Ilisia’s chest. A faint smile curled her lips.

“The Sacred Text says,” she said softly, “that for every pair of lovers born into the world, the Night Goddess lights a new star in the sky—a blessing so their love is etched into eternal night.”

As she spoke, she inched closer—so close their shoulders nearly touched.

This girl was hopeless.

Adrian grew impatient. He feared she’d start spouting more whimsical nonsense.

All he wanted was for her to leave and stop disturbing his work.

“No,” he finally said after a pause. “Those lights are stars—like our sun, just very far away.”

Great. If she doesn’t leave now, I’ll start lecturing her about nuclear fusion, photons, redshift, and blueshift.

But Ilisia didn’t leave.

She stared at him wide-eyed, searching his face for any hint that he’d just made it all up.

She found none.

Ilisia cleared her throat, stood up straight, and adopted the poised, elegant posture unique to the Wenser family ladies.

“Have you never read the Sacred Text?” she asked.

Did she think he was illiterate?

Adrian shot her a look of utter disbelief.

Fine. Let her ramble.

Ilisia began reciting softly: “The Night Goddess gazes gently upon the mortal realm. Above every loving couple, she kindles a star so their devotion may be inscribed in the eternal darkness…”

As she reached the most poetic part, she couldn’t help but raise her arms dramatically—

Crash!

Her hand accidentally knocked over the golden lamp.

The glass shade shattered on the ground, and the golden light within spilled out like liquid yolk—blindingly bright.

Upon closer look, four or five fireflies fluttered out from the broken lamp!

Their wings beat softly, trailing gentle golden glows behind them.

Were these magical creatures? Or some rare mutated species?

…They were beautiful.

Just as Ilisia was lost in wonder, a low sigh pulled her back to reality.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

(What Adrian really wanted to say was: “What the actual—?!”)

He wore an expression of genuine anguish—not for Ilisia, but for the lamp.

Those fireflies had been incredibly hard to catch!

“I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!” Ilisia stammered.

“Do you even know how expensive that lamp was?” Adrian said. “Those insects came from a distant land. They’re extinct now…”

Seeing Ilisia’s crushed expression, Adrian knew his trap had worked.

Time to apply maximum pressure.

“You let them loose…” he said mournfully. “They won’t survive out there. They’ll all die.”

“Then… then what should I do?” Ilisia asked, panicked.

“Sigh… you couldn’t possibly repay me,” Adrian said, then swiftly shifted tone. “Tell you what—if you promise never to enter our garden again, I’ll tell my mother I broke it myself.”

“But… that doesn’t feel right,” Ilisia murmured, her voice shrinking. “Shouldn’t I… compensate you somehow?”

“Just go. My mother will be back soon,” Adrian waved her off.

He sighed again and bent down to pick up the shards…

Plop!

Suddenly, he felt a soft kiss land on his cheek.

???!!!

He jerked backward instinctively and looked up in shock.

“Huh?!”

Ilisia stood nearby, cheeks flushed, hands covering her mouth, eyes sparkling with excitement and triumph.

“You tricked me again!” she said, half-annoyed.

Adrian’s mouth hung open.

He had absolutely no words.

WTF? Is this girl completely unhinged?