“The Grand Duchess is handling internal affairs now?”
Adrian raised an eyebrow at Orgen’s report.
“Yes, Your Highness. She’s incredibly passionate about it, surprisingly so.”
“Is that so?”
“And Benson?”
“The new medicine seems to be working well. Her Grace’s condition has improved significantly.”
“She’s better?”
“Yes, her physical strength has returned, too.”
Orgen, eyes glued to the documents before him, responded absently.
“What about Seton?”
“The mages are still out of commission. They used too many mana stones during the area detection spell. Now they're suffering from mana backlash and can’t function.”
“Oh dear, how unfortunate.”
“…Excuse me?”
His voice didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic—it almost came off as sarcastic. Confused, Orgen lifted his head to glance at Adrian.
But the Grand Duke looked as composed as ever, signing documents with perfect posture. Orgen figured he must have misheard.
“Wasn’t the Grand Duchess previously bedridden and unable to even stamp documents due to her poor health?”
“Ah…”
“And now it’s the mages who are bedridden. I wonder how saddened she must be to hear this.”
“….”
Orgen blinked, stunned.
He hadn’t misheard. Adrian was being sarcastic.
Is he… angry?
But if he were truly angry, he’d hand down a proper punishment, not resort to sarcasm.
Orgen had no idea how to process this.
“…Y-yes…”
All he could do was trail off like a bewildered baby goat.
“For now, tell Benson to continue giving the Grand Duchess’s medicine to the mages. Until they recover.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Right away.”
“So, Benson. You understand what I’m asking, right?”
After her meal, Ione was offered the usual bowl of bitter medicine.
But instead of drinking it, she summoned Benson.
“Your Grace, I must apologize, but I…”
Clicking her tongue lightly at Benson’s flustered demeanor, Ione spoke gently.
“If you didn’t understand, I’ll explain again.”
“N-no, that’s not it. I just… I feel guilty.”
Benson wore a remorseful expression.
“I believe I’ve failed to truly consider Your Grace’s comfort.”
“This isn’t a huge matter, really. Expecting a doctor to care about a patient’s taste preferences is admittedly too much.”
Seeing how Benson looked like he was ready to dig himself into a hole out of shame, Ione began to soothe him.
“This is just something I personally hope for, based on experience.”
She recalled an exchange from a few days prior—when she had grumbled about the bitter medicine, Catherine had blinked innocently and asked,
‘
Isn’t all medicine liquid?’
‘What are you talking about? Liquid medicine is for kids. Adults take pills.’
‘Pills? What are those?’
‘They’re small, round, solid meds.’
‘Wow, I’ve never even heard of such a thing!’
Catherine had begged her to tell more about it, eyes sparkling with wonder.
Ione had chuckled at the memory—but her smile faded as the memory cut off there, like always.
Still, it was a fortunate slip—she had remembered
pills
.
Shaking off the creeping melancholy, Ione turned back to Benson with a warm voice.
“I know it sounds childish. But does taking medicine really have to be unpleasant? What if we solidify it and coat it with something sweet? Wouldn’t that make it more bearable?”
She gagged slightly just looking at the stained black residue in the bowl.
No matter how many times she took it, she never got used to the taste or the smell. It seemed to get worse with each passing day.
If she was going to live here for the rest of her life, getting sick shouldn’t feel like a torture session.
So now, Ione was—well—coaxing Benson.
I’m not some all-powerful female lead. But I am the Grand Duchess, which means I have money.
And what does that mean?
Leave it to the experts.
Ione’s voice took on a soft urgency.
“This could be more useful than you think. Think about it, Benson. What happens—though we hope it never does—if a knight is seriously injured or falls ill during an emergency? Who’s going to stand around brewing potions?”
Benson’s face twisted with concern.
The Grand Duchess had just laid bare a critical flaw in their current medical practices.
Even with rare herbs and a timely diagnosis, patients were often lost—because of the time it took to prepare the medicine.
Since liquid medicine had to be brewed fresh, pre-preparation was impossible.
But now, thanks to her suggestion, he felt like a solution might finally be within reach.
“How can you solidify liquid medicine?”
“You reduce it. Controlling the heat and evaporation so the medicinal properties remain intact—that’s your job.”
“Reduce it…?”
“Boil off the moisture. Once it thickens, dry it out so it hardens. Or mix in something that helps it solidify. That’s up to you to figure out.”
Without hesitation, Ione unloaded the task onto Benson.
“If you can make it into a solid form, we could prevent patients from dying simply because the medicine couldn’t be prepared in time. Households could stock up in advance, preventing minor illnesses from escalating.”
“Is that even… possible…?”
Benson seemed breathless, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Try it,”
Ione said softly.
“Benson, you’re a physician, not a herbalist. Those who collect and supply your herbs likely know more about each plant’s properties. Why not consult with them?”
She sounded almost like a witch, the way she was persuading him.
Ione swallowed her rising self-consciousness.
“I’m not asking you to succeed overnight.”
“Still…”
“I’ll fund the research. But—”
“But?”
“It won’t be easy. So until we successfully develop and distribute this, don’t let the news leave the Grand Duchy.”
“O-of course.”
“This could reshape the reputation of not just me, but the entire Northern Province.”
She had let her true feelings slip—but fortunately, Benson was too caught up in excitement to notice.
“Of course, Your Grace! It’s an honor to be part of such a thoughtful, far-reaching mission.”
Spare me the honor.
“I’ll do my best!”
Don’t just try—bring me results.
Ione smiled graciously at his enthusiasm.
“I’ll find a way to get you funding in the next few days. Stay well until I call you again.”
“Call me? But we see each other every day.”
Benson smiled sheepishly and gestured at the now-empty bowl.
That cursed, bitter-stained bowl.
At the sight of it, her stomach churned again.
Ugh.
Ione swallowed back the nausea and made a firm vow.
I will make those pills.
Everything is difficult the first time.
That night, when Adrian entered her room without notice, Ione didn’t panic like she used to.
But just because it’s not the first time doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Late at night. In her bedroom. A handsome husband.
She knew very well that he had no ulterior motives, but still—those three words in any order made her heart pound.
It’s just a reflex. Like not being able to take your eyes off gold when it’s right in front of you.
“….”
Trying to ignore Adrian, who was settling beside her on the bed, she let her mind drift.
Gold is good. And once the pills are developed, I’ll be rolling in gold. My own gold, not anyone else’s.
The thought was so sweet, it completely distracted her from Adrian’s presence.
Once the pills are ready, maybe I shouldn’t start a merchant guild right away. That would make me look money-hungry…
“…ka?”
I need to look as natural as possible.
“…that expression.”
“W-what? Sinister?”
Startled by his perfectly timed question, Ione turned to look at Adrian.
Just like last time, he sat with a book in hand, eyes lowered, now focused on her.
“I asked what you were thinking. Your expression looked… quite telling.”
“W-what could I have been thinking about…”
“Was it something sinister?”
“N-no! Of course not!”
“That’s strange.”
He lowered his book onto his lap.
Not a good sign.
That meant he was done reading—and fully paying attention now.
Ione swallowed hard, trying to appear harmless.
It seemed her face had betrayed her thoughts again—caught daydreaming about wealth, she must’ve looked devious.
“I was—”
“I never said ‘sinister.’”
“…Pardon?”
“I said it looked like you were full of anticipation. Or did you take me for the kind of brute who’d call his wife’s face ‘
sinister
’ to her face?”
His voice was calm, but the lack of expression made it feel much more threatening.
Ione panicked and waved her hands defensively.
“No, of course not! I just assumed my expression must’ve looked that way…”
“Hmm.”
With a soft
thud
, he closed the book.
“What kind of thought makes someone look ‘sinister,’ I wonder.”
Gulp.
“Just… happy daydreams, you know?”
“And how do happy daydreams end up looking sinister? I truly don’t understand.”
He said it like he was talking to himself, but this was clearly an interrogation.
Ione lay stiff as a board.
I’m in big trouble now…