I Became the Half-Crippled Young Master of the Ducal Family Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The next day.

After wiping out the remaining magical beasts near Sirun Village, I returned to the Winterbell Family estate with the Harlan rcenaries.

We had killed so many that the stench of blood still clung to my body. Things would likely stay quiet for a while.

As expected, all 'trash' needed to be cleaned out for my mind to be at ease. And now, it was ti to clean up the trash within my own domain.

“Lord Ran. Is sothing the matter?”

“...It's nothing.”

“Your gaze has changed since last night.”

“I just didn’t sleep well. Don’t mind it.”

There wasn’t a single lie in what I said. I really hadn't been able to sleep a wink last night.

Every ti I tried to drift off, Bestia and Saladin would appear in my dreams and start spewing nonsense.

Fucking hell.

Shitty mories rise to the surface when shitty things happen. My insides felt like they were boiling over. I had held back this fury for so long that it now felt like my guts were burning up.

Even when I tried to force the intrusive thoughts out of my head, it didn’t go as I wanted.

The more you try not to think about emotions, the more persistently they raise their heads—like they’re mocking your struggle.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the side of the carriage.

Perhaps Camille had sensed my foul mood, because she kept as quiet as possible until we reached the estate.

It was likely her way of being considerate...

But right now, even that kind of consideration didn’t feel all that welco.

【...Calm yourself, Ran Winterbell. Since yesterday, the mana inside your body has been surging like mad. If you stay like this, you're going to lose control regardless of your will.】

Shut up.

I already know that much.

---

Upon arriving at the annex, I strode down the corridor in search of Cecil. As luck would have it, she was walking this way, and the mont she saw , she greeted with a smile.

“Lord Ran. Was the subjugation successful? The stew ca out quite nicely today, so I recomnd you have so before it gets cold.”

“...”

“Lord Ran?”

The sa expression as always. The sa tone as always... Seeing that repulsive face putting on an act made it feel like I was about to lose the last thread of reason I had left.

But no—this wasn’t the ti.

Even if I were to kill her, there was one answer I needed to hear from her first. That’s why, at least until I asked this question, I had to let her live.

“Cecil.”

“Yes, Lord Ran.”

Perhaps she realized my expression wasn’t the sa as usual. Her tone turned cold, unlike just a mont ago.

It crossed my mind that she might attack before I even got the question out.

After all, she had been raised from childhood solely as a tool to kill. If she sensed danger, her reaction would be instinctive.

If that were to happen, I intended to slice off her arms and legs, stop the bleeding, and then proceed to ask my question as planned.

Fortunately or unfortunately, she made no such move and simply waited for to speak.

"Why haven’t you killed until now?"

“……”

I didn’t plan to drag this out anyway, so I went straight to the point. I had no intention of wasting ti in a aningless war of words. I just needed to know why she hadn’t killed until now.

That was all I wanted.

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t understand.

From her perspective as an assassin, there had to have been hundreds—no, thousands—of opportunities to kill .

I had long since been discarded by the family, and even worse, I couldn’t walk on my own because of my crippled leg.

…Could there be an easier target for an assassin? And yet, Cecil had kept alive all this ti. Until I was able to walk on my own, even without her help.

Why had she made that choice?

I couldn’t stand not knowing.

“Did sothing happen?”

“Don’t dodge the question. I’ve reached the end of my patience.”

When she saw my lips trembling ever so slightly, Cecil looked at with an expression she had never shown before.

I could tell at a glance.

Cecil was sad right now.

What on earth was she sad about?

Why was she looking at like that?

She had treated like a cripple all this ti, toying with as she pleased, and now that her true identity had been exposed, was she simply regretful that her act was over?

Or maybe… had she developed so kind of attachnt, and now she was sad because she would have to kill ?

…Why?

…Who the hell are you?

You’re the one who deceived all this ti.

So why do you have that sorrowful face?

“Answer !”

My shout, laced with fury, echoed like a thunderclap. But Cecil didn’t even blink and replied in a calm tone.

“If Lord Ran wishes to kill , I’ll accept it without resistance. But before that, could you hear out just once?”

“……”

Instead of answering, I gave a small nod.

“Thank you.”

I was going insane with curiosity about what kind of nonsense was going to co out of that deceitful mouth.

But contrary to my expectations, she took sothing out from inside her clothes and handed it to .

“…What is this? Are you playing gas with right now?”

What she handed over was an old, worn-out pocket watch. It wasn’t even functioning—neither the hour hand, minute hand, nor second hand were moving. The sight of it made irritation flare up inside .

“Could you inject mana into that watch and try turning the hour hand once?”

“Cecil. I didn’t ask for so pathetic prank—I asked you to answer my question. If you have no intention of responding, then right now I’ll—”

“Isn’t this the end anyway? Just once, do as I ask. If you sense anything suspicious, you can cut off my head right then and there. I won’t resist.”

Naturally, I had no intention of doing as she said. From the very start, how could I trust the words of an assassin? She had infiltrated the Winterbell estate solely to kill .

And now she was handing a watch and asking to inject mana into it? What kind of lunatic would go along with that?

The mont I injected mana, it could be cursed—or it might explode.

As if she had read my mind, Cecil opened her mouth.

“I swear on my mana that this watch cannot cause Lord Ran any harm.”

“Swear. Right now.”

The mont I said it, Cecil imdiately swore upon her mana. Even though I had seen it with my own two eyes, I still felt uneasy. But now, the ti had co to choose.

Would I inject mana into it and turn the hour hand as she said? Or would I just kill her right here and now?

After a mont of hesitation, I made my decision. I injected mana and turned the hour hand.

Tick, tick—

The sound rang in my ears, and my consciousness began to fade.

---

He looked flustered as he asked again.

“…Pardon?”

Sothing was strange.

No matter how disregarded I was by the family or how frail my body had beco, it made no sense for a servant to speak so formally to .

“…Ah. I was looking for you, my lord. I’m the newly appointed maid…”

Ah, my na...

Had I ever even had a na?

From the mont I was thrown into the sewers until now, there had never really been anything that could be called a na for . Jack and his gang would just refer to as “hey” or “you.”

The one thing I’d been called the most was 077, the number engraved on my identification tag. But that wasn't a na. Just a crude number assigned to identify one slave among many.

After thinking it over briefly…

“My na is Cecil.”

I spoke the na of the goddess from the myths—a na I once heard from the blind beggar in the past.

“Cecil… That’s a pretty na. Pleased to et you. I’m Ran Winterbell. I look forward to working with you.”

“My lord, I’m just a servant who will be attending you. If you speak so formally to , I’ll feel too uncomfortable to function properly. Please, speak freely.”

“Haha. I’m sorry. It’s just a habit… I’ll try to work on it.”

The goddess who governed love, but who had lost her sight and could not see the one she loved—a contradictory deity.

Starting today, I would live as Cecil, the maid of Ran Winterbell.

‘So this was always ant to be.’

The mont I t him…

The voice that had endlessly tornted inside my head vanished like a miracle. It disappeared so cleanly, so completely, that I even began to wonder if I had imagined it all along.

But I knew.

That voice, which had so persistently tornted , was no hallucination.

It was a guide.

A voice ant to lead here.

To bring to him.

Ran Winterbell.

Inside that mont—another self was hidden.

The very person I had searched for my entire life.

‘Van Descartes.’

The instant I faced him, I knew it instinctively.

Why that mysterious voice had echoed in my head for so long.

I had lived all this ti for one purpose only—to et him once more. My heart alone was enough proof of that truth.

The emotions that had been completely torn out—down to the root—through relentless torture and training now surged back like a tidal wave.

My chest swelled with euphoria.

Ecstasy. Joy. Happiness.

And love.

Yes, this was what they called love. Not the kind of nonsense people spew when they claim to fall in love at first sight, with their heads filled with flowers and daydreams.

My love had continued from a ti long, long ago. I had simply failed to realize it. I simply hadn’t rembered who I was.

But now I rembered.

Even my forgotten past life.

From that forr life to this reborn one—I had only ever loved Van Descartes. I still loved him now. And I would continue to love him.

I would love him for eternity.

“Cecil. Are you feeling okay? You’ve been looking off since a while ago…”

Now, I could finally understand what ‘misery’ was.

Because eting him had finally allowed to know what ‘happiness’ felt like.

I didn’t know how, but he had been reborn as soone nad ‘Ran Winterbell’, and had no awareness of his past life.

But that was fine. Just like , he would eventually rember who he used to be.

Ever since I t him, the mories of my previous life had started to return, little by little. Every night when I dread, I relived the mories I had shared with Van Descartes.

They were such blissful mories that, sotis, I wished I could stay in those dreams forever, never waking up.

One unfortunate part, though, was that the dreams didn’t follow the order of ti.

Each ti I dread, the events I had experienced would play out in random fragnts.

Among them were simple mories—eating together, or just sleeping beside each other.

Still, I was satisfied.

The slow process of rembering who I truly was—yes, that was aningful.

But even more precious was being able to see Van Descartes from that ti, vividly, as if he were right there again.