Four Days Later,
Inside one of the hallways in the mansion, now mostly empty with only a few maids still present, Lily, a maid with a cloth and warm water, made her way through the corridor.
'The mansion seems less crowded,' Lily thought to herself as she moved along.
She couldn't help but notice how, unlike usual, there were very few maids around, likely due to the events that had transpired between Lady Kassidy and the Count four days prior.
Most of the maids had chosen to follow Lady Kassidy after she struck a deal, leading to a mass exodus from the mansion.
With the mana mine and the divorce in exchange for the healing potion, Lady Kassidy had severed ties with the Vinlig territory.
In just two days, she had emptied the mansion, prompting dozens of maids to leave and resign all at once.
The stark difference in the mansion's atmosphere reflected Lady Kassidy's growing control.
"Where are you going, Lily?" called out one of the maids, who was struggling to carry a mountain of clothes that covered her face.
Given the reduced number of servants, she seemed to be taking advantage of her awakened ability in washing without feeling overwhelmed, and her tone was enthusiastic.
"Oh, I'm just going to wash the young master," Lily replied as she continued onward, eventually entering a room.
Inside, nestled in a cradle, the tiny baby was peacefully sleeping.
Unlike just four days ago, when his condition seemed dire, he now appeared to be stabilizing—both healthier and, surprisingly, thinner.
It was quite astonishing that after receiving the healing potion, which initially didn't seem to work well, the young master had recovered so quickly.
His remarkable mental strength seemed to have helped him combat his suffering, leading to a recovery that was much swifter than they had anticipated.
They had expected him to take several months to regain his health.
For such a newborn, this was quite an impressive feat, though he had lost significant weight as a side effect of the potion.
However, they hoped he would soon be able to move by himself; previously, his excess weight had made such movements nearly impossible.
"Huh? Why has he...?" Lily muttered as she gazed at the young master in the cradle, narrowing her eyes in surprise.
She noticed that he appeared slightly chubbier than he had the day before.
While the change was subtle, she sensed that in the three days since the potion was administered, despite his earlier weight loss, he seemed to be gaining weight at an extraordinary rate—almost as if he was accumulating ten times more weight compared to a typical newborn.
'My head...' Lucian thought, feeling an unexpected lightness in his body, free from any pain.
As the remnants of the side effects faded, he slowly opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling.
His gaze was drawn to a maid entering the room, holding a wet cloth, which made him blink in surprise. But still, he remained calm, looking through the gap from the cradle.
'She is not one of them...' he thought, feeling peaceful after having just come back from the brink of death.
With a closer look at the maid, he turned his attention back to the ceiling, recalling the faces of the other maids that were etched in his memory.
This particular maid was unfamiliar to him. Though he held no interest, neither did he feel anger towards her, given that he had noticed a few of the servants fighting outside the mansion gate.
In his recollection, he remembered this maid's expression at that time; it was anxious and hurt.
'Kassidy Liander,' he recalled the name etched in his mind, piecing together the fragments of his memory.
As he remembered her, he clenched his fist.
Though his body felt small and frail, almost endearingly so, the determination in his heart was unmistakable.
He resolved that, regardless of how he might manage to dodge death's grip in the future, he would make it his mission to kill that woman.
For now, he was alive. The last vestiges of his memories flooded back, reminding him of his struggle to maintain consciousness amid waves of pain. He saw someone.
It was a man who appeared at the doorway. The moment Lucian caught sight of the mustached man, smothered with unease, recognition struck him.
This was Count Vinlig, the man mentioned repeatedly by the couple he had encountered.
In that fleeting moment, the couple's words about the Count's kind heart and gullibility came to mind.
Yet, he didn't trust those hollow words blindly. Instead, he observed the expression of that man filled with worry and grief, a stark contrast to the disgust he sensed from the maids surrounding him.
Without a second thought, that man dashed toward him, but as he did so, Lucian felt the strength of his body waning. His mind remained resolute, yet his physical form could bear no more.
Ultimately, he succumbed to unconsciousness, finally losing the battle against his frail body.
*Huh!? Y-Young master!*
Suddenly, Lily realized that the child had woken up just as she was preparing to unbutton his clothes for a small bath.
Her eyes widened in surprise before she quickly turned toward the door, dashing out in a hurry to summon the Count, who had not eaten for three days.
'I first need to learn this language,' Lucian thought as he remembered the sensations and pains that coursed through him at that time.
With a newfound purpose in his life—to kill Kassidy Liander—and having accepted his fate in this world, he decided to prioritize his preparations.
His first priority was to learn the language of this world.
Not only did he need to grasp the language, but he also felt it crucial to jot down all the memories he still retained from the couple.
He knew there was a risk of forgetting those plot points in the future, especially if he became preoccupied with training.
To aid his memory, he needed to write everything down.
Before diving into those tasks, however, he realized he needed to have a body capable of movement.
"Come on," he urged himself. Ignoring the frailty of his form, he pushed against it, shaking his body in an attempt to summon strength.
Due to the slight weight loss and the fierce determination building within him, he managed to lift one hand toward the inner part of the wooden cradle and quickly grip it.
Instead of relying solely on brute force, he opted for a different approach.
Having learned about the palmar grasp reflex in newborns in his past life, he knew that their grip strength comes from an instinctive reflex rather than developed bone structure or muscle strength. With this understanding, he focused on using his grip instead of straining his arm.
Disregarding the pain coursing through his body, he concentrated on pulling himself up. With every ounce of effort, he attempted to lift himself, determined to gain at least a bit of elevation and agency.
"Euuughhh!" Clenching his jaw, despite the absence of teeth in his mouth, he pushed himself sideways, acutely aware of the pain in his other hand caused by his weight pressing down on it.
At this age, his body lacked any significant coordination, but he methodically turned himself onto his belly with great effort.
"Haaah... Haaah..." he gasped, his heartbeat quickening as he flipped from his back to his stomach, a clear indication of the immense effort he exerted in his frail newborn body to accomplish something that typically takes a few months for an infant to achieve. 'I need to do it...'