The Terminally-Ill Lord Desires Hospice Care

Late that night, Cecilia reviewed the documents the new lord had processed, her face flushed with anger. She did her utmost to find some tiny mistake, some error in spelling to nitpick, but could not find even a single typo. The only peculiarity, if any, was that the handwriting seemed slightly shaky, perhaps due to mild hand tremors.
But the shaky handwriting alone was not enough for her to nitpick, and instead she found herself furiously tearing at her own hair in frustration over the perfection of his work.

“How can someone with that girlish face work so dauntlessly and impudently!”
Recalling his impassive, expressionless face, Cecilia ground her teeth.
“Our village was nearly ruined because some noble brat abandoned us, collecting only taxes without lifting a finger…!”

Remembering her family killed in the chaos when the lord had fled, she slammed the table and glared at his signature with hateful eyes.

“And now those useless guys who didn’t show up when we needed them most come swaggering in acting all high and mighty as the lord…?”

She could never accept such insolence.
To stop it, she had tried ignoring him, given him menial tasks nobles would scoff at, and even dumped him with a murderous amount of work to torment him – yet he did not get angry once.
Rather, he maintained a shockingly respectable attitude.

“‘Look at the essence’? ‘The place I reside is not simply this building, but the village’? Just spouting empty words as always. Ignorant fool…!!!”

“Then what do you know about that child to be spouting such things?”

A soliloquy is called such because it is spoken alone. If another voice is heard in one’s soliloquy, then it is no longer a soliloquy but a conversation.
Startled that her soliloquy had suddenly turned into a conversation, Cecilia whipped her head towards the unfamiliar voice.

“Wh-What was that…?”
“Over here, you miserable thing.”
“A raven speaking human words…”
“When there are too many inhuman people around, is there some rule a raven cannot speak human words?”

The raven perched on the windowsill glared at Cecilia with furious eyes.
“I’ll ask again. What do you know about that child to be spouting such drivel?”

“It’s obvious. He must have been raised as a pampered noble brat without want. Surrounded by family love, plentiful food and a warm bed, a safe environment with no fear of death. Just a greenhouse flower raised in such a hothouse.”

“…How foolish. Everyone thinks their own scars are the most painful, but it’s troubling to mock one who has no uninjured parts. That is not something a human should do.”
“What is that supposed to mean…?”
“Seeing is believing, as they say. Let’s see if you can still say such things after smelling the blood seeping from those scars.”

As the raven flapped its wings, an eerie black wind filled the room, and Cecilia found herself trapped in pitch darkness.
When that darkness lifted, she opened her eyes not in her room, but in the middle of an old noble estate.

“Where is this…”
Though puzzled, she soon realized from the maids and butlers around her failing to notice her presence that this was some kind of illusion magic.
“I don’t know what kind of trick this is, but illusion magic doesn’t last long. I may not know why I’m being shown this place, but…!”

Soon after, she saw a young child who looked exactly like the lord she had seen that morning.
The deep eyes and slender features were the same as now, but unlike the present, those eyes and that skin still held vitality back then. A so-called doll-like child.

That adorable child was carrying a book as thick as his forearm, heading somewhere. The child stopped before a door and knocked on it with tiny fists.

“Mother.”
The child called out and opened the door. Beyond was an unknown sickly newborn baby and a noble lady tending to it with utmost care.
“What is it?”
“My tutor instructed me to inform you that I received a perfect score on today’s exam.”
“To think he would tell you to report something so trivial. Tell him I am not so idle as to receive reports on every little thing.”
“Yes, mother.”
“If that’s understood, quickly close the door and leave. You know how harmful the draft is for your little sister.”
“My apologies.”

From the expression on the child’s face as he closed the door and turned away, Cecilia could sense it. Reporting the perfect score had been entirely the child’s own will. The tutor’s instruction had simply been a lie, and the child had wanted to boast about getting a perfect score.

“Young master, do not be too disheartened. Once the young miss recovers from her illness, your mother will surely…”
“It’s alright, butler. It was my mistake to have such vain thoughts while my sister is ill.”

The child was strolling through the garden with the butler.
In the midst of this, the child spotted flowers blooming on a syringa tree, stopped, and asked the butler a question.

“Butler. Do you think my sister would like flowers like those?”
Sensing the child’s intent, the butler smiled faintly and answered carefully.
“Even a newborn baby would surely love pretty flowers, would they not? Shall this old man pluck one for her?”
“No, I wish to pluck the first gift myself. And just a flower alone seems a bit lacking.”

The butler smiled and gave the child a boost, allowing him to pluck the flowering branch himself.

The child plucked the flowering branch, used an adhesive to attach it to drawing paper, and began sketching.
The small flowering branch became a tree in the small picture, and the child drew himself, his recovered sister, and the rest of their family around it. The picture was so magnificent, it was hard to believe a child had drawn it.

After drawing all night, the child sneaked into his sister’s room while his mother slept. He left the picture he had drawn by his sister’s crib before leaving the room. That picture contained the child’s wish for his sister’s recovery.

And early the next morning, awoken by a commotion, the child rushed to his sister’s room following the others.
Pollen from the flowers had infiltrated the sickly sister’s weak body, causing a severe allergic reaction and sudden fever.
After being informed of this by the attending physician, the mother, spotting the picture by the crib, stomped over to the child. The source of the pollen was clear.

“Mother, this is…”
Slap.
The sound of flesh striking flesh filled the room.
“My lady! The young master only intended…”
“Butler. Silence.”

With colder eyes than ever before, the child’s mother glared at him.
“You know what your mistake was, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Without even touching his reddened cheek, the child tossed his drawing into the fireplace with an expressionless face.
“I will ensure such an incident never happens again.”
“Good. As long as you understand.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”

As the child spoke those words, the vitality in his eyes faded ever so slightly.
Instead of tears, the child shed the light from his eyes, and with a reddened cheek, headed outside. The butler rushed to console him, but to no avail.

“Young master. Your mother was simply upset, so do not be too disheartened. She will surely understand you meant no ill intent…”
“Butler. Intent is not important. I nearly killed my sister, and mother administered fitting punishment. That is all.”
“Young master…”
“Please dispose of the paints and art supplies in my room. Mother will only grow angry if she sees them.”

The child who had loved painting never took up a brush again.

“Young master, you mustn’t grieve so…”
“Butler. I wish to be alone for now.”

Wordlessly respecting the child’s wish, the butler left, and the child walked silently to the garden.
He hid himself behind a tree, squatted down, and buried his face between his knees.
The bad habit of escaping into the darkness between his knees began from that day.

“I…”
The child did not finish that sentence, only silently gazing into the darkness between his knees.
It was within that small pocket of darkness that the child began establishing his own dark, dull self.

Without realizing it, Cecilia reached out to stroke the child’s head in consolation. But the moment her hand extended, the black wind enveloping her dissipated.

“What was that just now…”
“Did that seem like a warm greenhouse to you? Did that child look like a greenhouse flower to you?”

Cecilia could not utter a word. For what she had seen was not a warm greenhouse, but a frigid frozen wasteland.

“…If that truly was the anguish of that noble brat, I should apologize. But that does not mean I will accept him. I cannot accept him based solely on that one-sided view.”

“Yes, that is your choice. But know this.”
The raven calmly revealed his secret.
“What you saw was merely a small thorn among those embedded in that child.”

At that, Cecilia silently set down the documents she had been grasping, trying to find some flaw to nitpick.
“Who are you to know such secrets? You don’t seem like an ordinary raven.”
“I am merely a bird who wishes that child would not suffer. For I too am partly to blame for how he has become.”

With what seemed a sad gaze, the raven flew out the window.
Returning home, the raven preened the unkempt hair of Raul, who had fallen asleep slumped in an uncomfortable chair.

“…Sulking fool.”
The raven kept lonely vigil by his side until sunrise, ensuring those rural insects did not disturb his slumber.