As the band of knights rushed back to the Ornstein estate with the unconscious Seraphine, she has a high fever and shortness of breath. The urgent need for medical attention weighed heavily upon them, but their fear of Damian's wrath loomed even larger.
They knew they had failed in their duty to protect Seraphine, and the consequences could be dire.
Upon their arrival, they wasted no time in seeking out Marcus, the venerable butler who held the estate's secrets close to his chest.
They pleaded with him to summon a physician immediately, hoping that swift medical intervention would save Seraphine from her perilous state.
The knights guided Seraphine to the infirmary, a room filled with the aroma of medicinal herbs and the soft glow of candlelight. The physician, a wise and experienced healer, was summoned without delay. With utmost care, he began his examination, his hands moving deftly across Seraphine's feverish body.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the estate, the young master, Damian, had been alerted to the situation. He was twisted with anger and frustration as he stormed through the corridors, his crimson eyes ablaze with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those who crossed his path.
Following closely behind him was Marcus, his trusted confidant and advisor. Marcus, ever composed and wise, tried to temper Damian's fury, aware of the delicate balance that existed within the estate. He knew that Damian's anger, if unleashed without restraint, could have dire consequences for all.
Entering the infirmary, Damian's presence commanded attention. The knights, already kneeling in anticipation of his wrath, dared not meet his gaze. The air in the room became heavy with tension as Damian's piercing eyes swept over the scene before him.
"What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves!" Damian's voice thundered through the room, each word laced with anger and disappointment. The knights trembled, their heads bowed low in a display of contrition and fear.
They knew that their failure to protect Seraphine had not only endangered her life but also risked the wrath of their young master.
"Young master, I must apologize for failing to protect Seraphine. It is entirely my fault for not being able to stop her from entering the dungeon," Sir Henry, the leader of the knights, responded to Damian with a mixture of calmness and nervousness. He accepted full responsibility, willing to bear the consequences alone.
"Dungeon? What do you mean?" Damian questioned Henry, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. As the group of knights explained the entire situation, Damian struggled to wrap his mind around the truth of their words.
It seemed unfathomable that Seraphine would venture into the dungeon alone and disable the poisonous mist, only to get injured in the process.
"So, you're telling me that Seraphine entered the dungeon alone, confronted the poison mist, and sustained injuries inside?" Damian's voice held a hint of anger and disbelief. He knew Seraphine was brave and intelligent, but this act seemed too reckless, even for her.
"Young master, I have finished observing her condition," the physician interjected, drawing Damian's attention. He turned towards the physician, eagerly awaiting the prognosis.
"She is not in a life-threatening condition. It appears that all her symptoms stem from mental exhaustion. It seems she pushed herself to such an extreme in the dungeon that her brain nearly shut down from overexertion,"
the physician explained, his tone filled with both concern and intrigue. Damian felt a mix of relief and curiosity. He was relieved to know that Seraphine would recover, but he couldn't help but wonder what had driven her to push herself to such limits.
Damian's gaze shifted to Seraphine's tightly clenched hand. It seemed she was holding onto something with an unwavering grip, refusing to let go.
"Young master, she has been holding onto that object since we found her. We have tried to remove it, but it is firmly held in her grasp," one of the knights reported, their voice filled with a sense of frustration and helplessness.
Damian's eyes fixated on the object in Seraphine's hand. The demonic heart, once pulsating with malevolent energy, had now crystallized into a small, exquisite crimson stone. It emitted no signs of pollution or danger, its essence purified by Seraphine's courageous efforts.
The stone held condensed demonic energy, a source of immense power for those whose bodies were compatible with such forces.
In the original story, Damian had been deemed a failure in his family's aristocratic circles. His inability to harness mana, the predominant energy source, left him powerless and vulnerable.
However, with the revelation that his body was well-suited for demonic energy, a newfound potential blossomed within him. Unlike the original tale, this energy would not corrupt his sanity, thanks to Seraphine's successful purification.
Alice's analysis had revealed a different fate for Seraphine. Her body, unfortunately, possessed neither the affinity for mana nor demonic energy. It was a twist of fate that rendered her unable to utilize either form of energy, leaving her in a state of unique disadvantage.
"How long will she take to recover?" Damian inquired, his voice laced with concern, addressing the attending physician.
"Approximately one to two days, young master," the physician responded, his voice gentle and reassuring.
Damian took a deep breath, a wave of calmness washing over him. He turned his attention to the group of knights still present in the room, their heads bowed in deference. They anxiously avoided Damian's gaze, aware of his wrath and the weight of their failure.
"Since I have yet to hear Seraphine's account of the events, I will withhold judgment for now. Leave my sight," Damian commanded, his voice carrying a hint of disappointment and frustration.
"Yes, young master," the entire knight squad rose to their feet, bowing respectfully before quietly departing from the room.
"Worthless bastards... You had one job," Damian muttered through gritted teeth, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He lamented their lack of competence, the weight of their failure pressing upon him.
With the fever subsided and Seraphine's breathing returning to normal, Damian observed her peaceful slumber. The effects of the fever medicine and other medications had taken hold, bringing her relief and tranquility. Her face, once marred by pain, now displayed a serene expression as she slept soundly.
In a rare display of tenderness, Damian gently brushed his hand against Seraphine's forehead, checking for any lingering signs of distress. With a delicate touch, he smoothed out the tangles in her hair, his actions surprisingly gentle and caring. The physician, witnessing this unexpected affection from the infamous young master, couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"I hope you awaken soon, Seraphine. There are many things I need to discuss with you," Damian murmured softly, his voice filled with a calm determination. He took a moment to appreciate the peacefulness on her face before rising from his seat, preparing to depart from the infirmary.
"Physician, instruct the nurses and maids to provide the utmost care for her. Understood?" Damian issued his orders with a firmness and seriousness that demanded obedience.
"Yes, young master," the physician replied, though his curiosity about Damian's unusual concern lingered in his mind. He vowed to relay the young master's instructions to the staff, ensuring that Seraphine received the highest level of care during her recovery.
Having given his instructions, Damian left the room, leaving Seraphine to rest in the care of the medical staff. As he walked away, his mind was filled with questions, eager for the moment when Seraphine would awaken and provide him with the answers he sought.