I Think My Fiancé Has Regressed

Chapter 29: Dreamweed (4)

My first reaction to seeing Alex’s face was relief.

I’d already guessed that it hadn’t been a dangerous situation, but I couldn’t completely shake the feeling of unease until I saw him for myself.

Thankfully, though, Alex looked quite relaxed on the hospital bed, and I knew that at least the injuries he sustained today wouldn’t have any lingering effects.

“Alex.”

As soon as I realized that, a whole host of other emotions started rushing through my head.

It was a really shallow range of emotions.

Obviously, I opened the door with worry at first, followed by a desire to apologize.

In the end, what I was left with at the end was a bit of depression. With a little bit of anger mixed in.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Ariana, are you angry?”

“No.”

I just want to have a little serious talk. That’s all.

The door to the hospital room closed.

I walked over to Alex, who looked a little nervous, and quietly sat down on the side of his bed.

The words I was about to say lingered on my lips, wondering if I deserved to say them, but eventually my lips opened of their own accord, unable to hold back my emotions.

“Why didn’t you tell me before…that you were going to do something so reckless?”

It was a question about the recklessness of his behavior, trying to escape the brainwashing effects of the dreamweed, even at the cost of hurting himself.

It was a good thing he hadn’t gotten hurt as a result, but it could have easily ended up with a major injury.

“If you had told me beforehand, I would have told you not to do it.”

“Of course not, who in their right mind would do such an insane thing!”

It defied common sense. Even if we were in a position to call in the priests at a moment’s notice, Alex’s injuries were by no means what you’d call minor.

“It’s more than half a sprain, okay?

If you’re going to go through with it, you might as well not do it! You had Charlotte and Prince Eamon with you anyway, and you shouldn’t have gotten hurt this badly…!

Besides, in your dreamy state of unconsciousness, you stabbed yourself in the thigh, and if you hadn’t controlled the force, it would have gone in even a little deeper!”

“…Sorry, Ariana.”

Alex replied humbly, swallowing a bitter laugh.

“Still, I wanted to show you at least once.”

“…What?”

“I wanted to prove to you, somehow, at least once, that your fiancé is the one person who would never betray you, no matter what trials you face in the future.”

It was a proof I didn’t need, at least not as far as I was concerned.

“I’ll never doubt Alex, even if he doesn’t have to act dangerously like this.”

“Ariana wouldn’t doubt me, but only because I couldn’t trust myself.”

“…What?”

“Because you kept telling me that I couldn’t resist the effects of the dreamweed, but I didn’t see it that way.

I should have been a much better judge of character, and I should have sought help from you two years ago when I started feeling strange.”

“…….”

“That’s why I wanted to find out for sure this time, to make sure I wouldn’t end up betraying you again.”

There was seriousness in Alex’s eyes.

It’s as if he’s afraid of letting me down again, as if he has an underlying reluctance to do so.

“…I hope so.”

“Because if I can’t be sure of that, then there’s no point in me standing by your side again.”

I don’t need to be sure, I just want Alex to stay by my side.

I don’t know why standing by me is such a big qualification.

I appreciate the thoughtfulness he’s showing me, but it’s like he’s been converted

“Still, please don’t do it again.”

“Of course I wouldn’t do something this crazy twice.”

“Not just this, but anything that puts you in danger.”

“…I’ll try.”

“Don’t just say you’ll try, say you won’t do it.”

“…I’ll try to restrain myself as much as possible.”

“Don’t say it like that….”

Alex and I never got to finish our argument, until the priest came in for the ensuing treatment.

* * *

In the basement of the Royal Palace of Leavrov, there are two secret facilities that are off-limits to all but authorized personnel.

Only a handful of people, including royal officials and facility managers, are aware of their existence, and the number of people allowed to enter is even more limited.

One is the Royal Underground Vault, where all sorts of artifacts and riches are locked away.

It’s a place where dangerous weapons and priceless treasures lie dormant, and even royalty can’t enter without proper authorization.

Needless to say, I’ve never been inside.

So far, I don’t see any need to, and I don’t want to burden Alex with my curiosity.

And the other facility.

This is another facility that requires certain qualifications to enter, but even then, the criteria is a bit finite compared to the royal cellars.

Once you reach a certain level of high nobility, there’s a way you can even get permission to visit.

Even if you’re a commoner, you can still get in under certain conditions.

A facility where criminals who have committed crimes so heinous that they are deemed unforgivable are imprisoned.

The second secret facility, located beneath the royal palace, is the royal dungeons.

Obviously, this is not the place to be locked up for simple offenses like stealing or assault.

Most of the crimes committed here are either heinous crimes that can’t be publicly announced, or they’re the most heinous criminals, the kind of criminals that are best suited to destabilize a society and its people.

Murderers who commit genocide, traitors who defy the crown and attempt a coup, drug traffickers who grow and use banned drugs, whose possession of something like dreamweed is a felony in itself.

Every criminal who enters this prison, every single one of them, goes through the same process.

Interrogation, reformation, and liberation.

They are not allowed to die until they have performed a series of grueling acts of rehabilitation.

…I think there was a dungeon ending for Ariana, too.

Now, obviously, that’s not going to happen in this story, but I can’t help but shudder at the thought.

So, while this was the last place I would have ever wanted to set foot in, it was necessary for me to visit this prison today.

Because someone I know very well is imprisoned in this dungeon, and I need to talk to her at least once before her release date arrives.

I need to find if she is indeed a possessor and if so, what’s her purpose?

If all she has left is her home, and if she has committed any other crimes.

Because there were so many answers that I had to hear with my own eyes and ears, I had no choice but to walk to the dungeon where she was alone.

After being frisked to make sure I wasn’t carrying anything dangerous, I carefully opened the door to the dungeon, following the guards’ instructions.

As I stepped onto the stairs to the basement that appeared immediately after opening the door, a strange feeling of dread began to envelope my entire body.

“You can’t use magic from here on out, so if you need light, you can take this with you.”

It was a small torch, casting a faint glow in the darkness.

I handed her the lantern, said a short prayer of thanks, and took the first step on the stairs to the depths of the underground.

Even the sound of my steps seemed unusually loud in the silence of the room, where even my breathing was a matter of awareness.

Relying on the tiny light of the torches to guide me, I finally made it to the basement level where the prison was located.

I walked inside, looking around at the other now-empty cells, and from the outside, I spotted her figure in the fifth room.

It had only been a week since I last saw her in the secret garden.

Her beautiful azure hair, once her signature color, hung limp and lifeless.

The clothes she wore the day we last saw her were ripped and tattered, and her body, bound in an uncomfortable position, was covered in bruises and whip marks.

Even the tips of her ten fingers were devoid of anything that could be called nails, save for the occasional crust of blood.

It was the mark of a thorough ‘interrogation’ and ‘edification’, as was the case with every criminal who entered this dungeon.

Her face was obscured by her shaggy hair, making it hard to tell if she was awake or asleep.

In an effort to speak to her one last time I called her name.

“Miss Sierra.”

The head with the azure hair slowly began to lift.