The Terminally-Ill Lord Desires Hospice Care

The scorching hot liquid burned down my throat.
Alcohol was generally such a liquid, but especially these cheap distilled spirits – devoid of any aroma or flavor, existing solely for the purpose of inebriation.
While efficient for that singular purpose over any other liquor, I did not particularly favor it.

“This drink packs quite an unexpected punch.”
“It exists solely to intoxicate. And are you not drinking it undiluted, straight from the glass? I can practically see the liquor evaporating in real time.”
“One drinks alcohol to become intoxicated. If I intended to dilute it, I would have simply drunk water from the start.”
“You speak like a dockworker.”
“I suppose there is not much difference in that we both engage in strenuous labor.”

She was more graceful and alluring than any other woman, yet simultaneously rougher and more invigorating than any warrior.
Of course, she also possessed the serpentine cunning and venom characteristic of nobles.
She had the bewitching head of a roc, the powerful torso of a lion, and behind them the deadly venomous tail of a serpent.
Like a creature from myth, she had captivated countless men on the battlefield while burying countless foes.

“Camilla, what kind of existence do you perceive me as?”

Thus, I wished to know what kind of existence I appeared as to such beings.

“…The tragic heroine who did not merely put up walls, but built fortresses around her perception.”
“It seems my gender is mistaken.”
“The baby abandoned by the riverside, the youngest of our little group.”
“Yet I am a year your senior.”
“And…an ever apologetic friend.”

Even my oblivious self could discern the reason for that apology.
For that very reason was the shackle binding me now, the cause of my fiancée’s abhorrence towards me.

“Killing her was something someone had to do, and I was the one who did it. It was simply that, nothing more – you all need not apologize.”
I preferred being the one to suffer rather than witnessing the suffering of others.
“But it seems my fiancée intends to never forgive me until her death.”
“You never intended to actually marry her in the first place, did you? It was all to make that whiny brat the lord…”
“Camilla.”

She too was now a proper lord. Thus, she should not be some cheap bar snack in this shabby tavern.
She was capable, so she would do well even without me.

“The topic of lords reminded me…my younger sister will soon have her inauguration ceremony as the new lord.”
“I won’t go. If I see her face, I may end up doing something unforgivable.”
“That child will be enraged.”
“But since His Majesty says he will attend, that should suffice.”

His Majesty was as sharp as the famed blade he wielded.
Even at the inauguration of my unrelated younger sister, he would conduct himself officially, which should be enough for her to gain the dignity of a lord.

“Yes, while you or Her Majesty the Empress may not, His Majesty would not draw his blade at such an occasion.”
“Yes, that fool would never end it with just that…Ah, it’s nothing.”

Trailing off, she seemed to pour me a full glass to change the subject.
Without hesitation, I accepted and drank it down, the burning bitterness scorching my throat once more.
While not particularly strong usually, I could take pride in having greater alcohol tolerance than the average person.

“Shall we depart now?”
“Already, when the intoxication is just setting in?”
“Alcohol is something best stopped at that point, is it not? And we have already drained over 10 bottles of this distilled liquor between us.”
“Honestly, how dull.”
“I am a dull person, so if you follow me, you will only see dull things.”
“Dull things?”

Seeming to pique her interest, she rose from her seat. Like children, His Majesty and Camilla suffered from an inability to resist anything that captured their curiosity.
On the battlefield, I had lost count of how many times that very affliction had given Her Majesty the Empress headaches. Of course, each time she would spew curses too vile to utter.

“Follow me to where I am staying.”
After leaving money on the table, I too walked straight outside.
“You’re drunk.”
“As you can see, I am more sober than anyone.”
“Not your tongue, your gait is staggering. You’ll trip at this rate.”

She grabbed my arm and began supporting me.
Grasping me firmly yet gently like handling a child unable to walk properly, I could not resist being led along.

“Once we exit and turn right, then turn left at the large road that appears, and keep walking from there…”
“You’re drunk. I get the gist, so don’t rapidly rattle off directions like that.”

As she supported me while we walked, her hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.
“…Shimmering.”
“Is my beauty dazzling you that much?”

It seemed we were both rather intoxicated, engaging in such idle chatter as we walked.
For there were few who would entertain such pointless conversation.

“Camilla…”
“Why, are you suddenly trying to confess your love?”
“I know my place well enough to not attempt such a thing.”
“…I really wonder whose fault all this is.”
“If…this is purely hypothetical…but what if I could have been a bit more selfish?”

I disliked ‘ifs’.
Yet recently, I could not shake this bad habit of constantly pondering that ‘what if’.

“If I had not considered the pain my family would feel after learning the truth…and simply shouted at them, ‘What do you know?’, and had them love me by claiming I sacrificed for your sake…If I could have berated my fiancée, ‘Someone had to kill your sister’ as one with that capability, raging ‘Don’t you know how hard I tried to make you the lord’…”

“……”
“If I could have cried out for them to respect my dwindling life…then sweetly savored the guilt they felt, turning a blind eye to the pain they would feel after my passing…”

It was not as if I had never considered it.
For I too was human.
I too desired to be loved.
I had simply weighed the pain, guilt, and emotions they would feel after learning the truth and after my death against my own suffering on the scales of my heart.

“If I could have been selfish enough…”
If I could have tilted those scales towards my own suffering, disregarding their pain as insignificant.

“To spout such foolishness. I must truly be intoxicated.”
“What…?”
“That is not selfishness.”

As I stopped walking, she too stopped and looked at my hollow face.
“That should be called ‘honesty’.”
“Are honesty and selfishness not one and the same?”
“They may be, towards those who drove you to even consider such selfish thoughts.”
“It is difficult. Truly difficult to discern whom it applies to and whom it does not. And how honesty differs from being natural. I feel I may never understand.”
“It’s alright. You will come to understand someday. Before you die.”
“It does not seem so simple as to be comprehended in the less than a year I have remaining…”

I would be unable to revisit the same dates again.
Every date would be my last. I would not greet a second June 1st.

“…So we must make an effort.”
“We…?”
“You simply flow with the current. We are the ones going against it.”

Striving to understand her incomprehensible words, I decided to entrust myself to the flow as she said.
Simply relying on her support as she led me, surprisingly, we arrived at the lord’s residence.

“…See? As evident, I was not intoxicated. The fact I arrived here safely is proof of that.”
“That’s because I brought you here.”
“…I cannot say.”
“I’ll really hit you every time you say ‘I cannot say’.”

I could only say ‘I cannot say’ because I truly did not know.
For I was becoming an imbecile incapable of knowing anything.
Even if it was an escape stemming from the knowledge that knowing brought suffering.

“…Come to think of it, you said you would show me something interesting.”
I was someone who always strived to keep my promises.
For if I said I would show something interesting, showing that interesting thing was my creed.

Staggering up the swaying stairs, I retrieved the birdcage hung in my study and showed it to Camilla.
“This is the raven I keep, but…”
“A raven I’ve seen countless times on the battlefield.”
“This one can speak human words. Quite the peculiar fellow. It can even curse at a level rivaling Her Majesty the Empress…”

However, whether the raven had intimidated her, Camilla only turned her head away.
“Try getting it to speak.”

Come to think of it, had this raven ever let anyone other than me hear its voice?
I could not recall.

“Caw…caw…?”
“It’s just a regular raven.”
“Caaaw….!”
“But why does this raven’s cawing sound so unnatural?”

Something seemed amiss.
This raven had definitely been an exceptional one capable of human speech and understanding my heart to some extent.
It had even possessed enough intelligence to fly to me with medicine when I was in danger.

“How strange…It definitely spoke before…”
“With so many unintelligible sounds around, maybe even a raven’s cawing started sounding like speech…”
“It definitely spoke to me numerous times…”
“Damn wenches. Just how much did they torment the poor thing to mentally break it like this.”

The atmosphere began to shift as if I was insane enough to converse with a raven.
“How vexing, indeed.”