Cedric clearly remembered the amount of food Iris had eaten that day. Even trying to be generous in his assessment, it wasn't just a matter of having a small appetite.
Still, back then, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask her directly.
‘Pointing out how little she eats from the start would’ve been rude.’
Though they were now husband and wife, Cedric still didn’t know much about Iris. Marriage didn’t grant him the right to interfere however he pleased.
And in truth, she hadn’t looked well that day. He had no choice but to trust her words.
‘But… it was far too little.’
Unsatisfied by what she had eaten, Cedric's crimson eyes gleamed with quiet resolve.
‘…I’ll make sure to feed her more whenever I can.’
He unconsciously bit his lower lip hard.
‘I shouldn’t have taken it so lightly…’
Although Iris’s condition had improved noticeably, to Cedric, she still looked deathly pale.
She had been pushing herself this far.
She had been enduring so much, without saying a word.
‘Why didn’t I notice sooner?’
He had already suspected that Iris had not been treated well in the House of Valentine.
That much had been obvious, even from the wedding robe she wore when she arrived.
But not like this.
He hadn’t imagined it was to this extent.
Regret rose deep within his chest like a tide.
He’d had plenty of chances to ask her more—to understand her better.
But he hadn’t taken them. Because every time, Iris had looked so quietly sorrowful.
If he had asked earlier, perhaps he could’ve started taking care of her a day sooner.
‘And yet I just dragged her into sparring.’
Whether he’d realized it or not, perhaps he had even worsened her condition himself.
Thinking that made him feel like her current unconscious state was entirely his fault.
Cedric gently stroked her cheek as she lay asleep.
Her face, cradled in his large hand, felt far too fragile—as though she might vanish if he let go.
“How severe is her condition?” Cedric asked quietly. “Is it some internal illness?”
“Fortunately, it doesn’t appear to be a serious or chronic disease,” the physician replied. “But her body has clearly been overworked for quite some time.”
To Iris, it was merely routine. But her body had long since reached its limit.
“If she continues pushing herself without proper rest, she may soon fall prey to a much graver illness.”
“I’ll personally ensure she takes time to recover. Is there anything else we should be especially mindful of?”
“We’ll be able to run a more precise diagnosis after she regains consciousness, but based on my examination, she’s suffering from gastric illness and severe chronic fatigue.”
“Gastric illness and chronic fatigue?” Cedric echoed.
“Yes. And judging by the symptoms, she’s likely been suffering from them for quite a long time.”
Translate to English, use cultivation terms.
The doctor checked if Iris had been taking any regular medications to diagnose her sudden collapse.
As expected, Iris was on a steady regimen of strong medicinal herbs—potent elixirs and bitter pills.
“It seems the Lady has been holding on by relying heavily on these medicines. It would be best to gradually reduce her dependency,” the doctor advised calmly.
“Medicines…” Cedric murmured with a heavy heart.
“Without them, it’s likely she couldn’t have endured as long. But there’s a limit to how much one can rely on such remedies.”
The doctor carefully explained the importance of nourishing foods and strict rest protocols for cultivation recovery. When the topic of strenuous training came up, Cedric couldn’t help but mutter to himself,
“To push her body so hard to refine her sword essence while it’s already this fragile…”
Though they only sparred once today, Iris likely trained without rest every day. Frankly, anyone who pushed themselves so relentlessly and remained in good shape would be unnatural.
“What? You’ve been honing your sword technique recently? With this body?” The doctor’s eyes widened in shock, jumping to his feet as he assessed her condition.
“What the patient needs now is rest and replenishment! This must be strictly observed.”
“I understand.” Cedric nodded firmly.
“Even if the Lady insists she’s fine, do not overlook it. Do you comprehend?” The doctor warned once again.
“Understood.”
Cedric gently covered Iris’s neck with a warm blanket, then bowed his head close to her ear and whispered softly,
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your pain sooner.”
Before even hearing the full tale of her sorrowful past, he already felt a deep sadness.
“Master, I apologize for the urgency, but right now—” Vincent called out cautiously to Cedric.
“I know. I’ll take care of it now.”
Contrary to Vincent’s expectations, Cedric responded calmly and without haste.
“Huh?”
Vincent stared in disbelief.
‘Did our Master really say that?’
Normally, Cedric would have stayed by Iris’s side without leaving until she awoke. He was the type who would see anything he wanted or needed to do through to the end.
“Are you sure?”
“Vincent, I don’t think I’ve ever lied to you before.”
Even if he was teasing, this was serious. Cedric’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and Vincent nodded slowly.
“Well… no, you haven’t, Master.”
“See? That’s how it is.”
Cedric cast another glance at Iris, who lay still in bed.
"I doubt Iris would want me to just sit here and do nothing like this."
He kept his eyes on her, as though she might disappear the moment he looked away.
"She will open her eyes today, won’t she?"
"Yes, her condition has improved significantly. She should awaken sometime today," the physician replied.
"Then it’s best I’m doing something that’ll make her happy when she wakes."
Though Cedric still didn’t fully understand Iris, he could sense at least this much—she respected diligence.
‘She probably wouldn’t like it if I told her I spent all day just worrying about her instead of handling my duties.’
Turning to Vincent, who managed his daily schedule with the precision of a seasoned steward, Cedric asked,
"How much work is pending from yesterday?"
"It has piled up a bit, but knowing your abilities, my lord, you should be able to handle it all within half a day."
Vincent’s brown eyes shone with earnestness. As a butler, he knew exactly what his role demanded of him.
"As soon as the lady wakes, I will inform her that you’ve been diligently working. That should put her mind at ease, shouldn’t it?"
"Yes. Do that."
Cedric then paused, as if a thought had just struck him.
"She’s been unconscious the whole day, so she’ll likely be starving. You know what to do, don’t you?"
"Of course, my lord. I’ll have a meal prepared that won’t upset her stomach, following the physician’s instructions to the letter."
"Good. I’m counting on you."
A quiet tenderness softened Cedric’s usually composed face.
"Iris..."
He leaned in gently, his gaze fixed on the woman he now called his own. With delicate care, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
"When you wake... you’ll have to bear the burden of all my worries, you know."
Upon arriving at the Patriarch’s study, Cedric launched into his work with terrifying speed.
‘So... he could work like this all along?’
Vincent, who had watched over him since childhood, was stunned. He’d always known Cedric was competent—but this was a whole other level.
‘Is this what they call the power of love?’
Vincent had already figured it out, of course. From the way Cedric looked at Iris, it was obvious—he’d fallen for her at first sight.
And surely, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Every servant in the estate must’ve realized by now just how deeply their lord had fallen.
‘Just by existing, the lady has changed so much about this place.’
Problems that had been stuck for days were suddenly swept away under Cedric’s hand.
Vincent even felt a strange catharsis just watching it happen.
With a calm, expressionless face, Cedric asked,
"Is this all the correspondence that needs to go to the other lords?"
"Yes, this should cover everything required, my lord."
Just then, a loud commotion erupted as the maid Lucy came crashing through the door of the study.
“Master! Head Steward!”
The maid was panting heavily as if she had rushed over in great haste.
“The Lady has finally awakened!”
The maid ran up and announced this. Cedric’s eyes sparkled as he sprang to his feet.
“The Lady?”
“Yes! Just now! But… the moment she regained consciousness, she said she was fine and immediately went to the Lady’s private chamber.”
Lucy glanced toward the direction where Iris was with a worried look.
“It seems like the Master should go see her.”
“Understood.”
Cedric stood up as if he had been waiting for this moment and dashed off.
Vincent, who had no intention of stopping him, blinked as he watched Cedric disappear like a gust of wind.
He moved so fast that his movements were almost invisible. Somehow, today felt like he was learning many unknown things about the Master.
The Lady’s private chamber was in a completely separate building from the Clan Head’s office.
However, as a Sword Master, Cedric immediately began to exert his abilities to their fullest extent.
He didn’t just run down the corridor—he flung open a window and leapt out. Using his mana, he surged up the stairs floor by floor in a single bound.
Will she be okay?
Even while handling the Clan Head’s affairs, his thoughts were consumed by Iris.
Why on earth did she go to the private chamber? If she needed anything, she could have just sent a servant.
He felt like he might lose his mind if he didn’t see Iris’s well face right away.
Cedric burst open the door to the Lady’s private chamber and immediately scanned for Iris with hawk-like eyes.
“Lady! You just woke up—!”
Iris was sitting right in the center of the room, clearly visible at a glance.
But it was nothing like what he had imagined.
Despite the fever and cold sweat, Iris was calmly reading documents and organizing something with practiced ease.
“Iris?”
She seemed so focused that she barely heard his voice. Or perhaps her condition hadn’t fully recovered yet, and she simply couldn’t respond.
Cedric strode forward, and she finally noticed his presence.
“You’ve come?”
Iris spoke in a weak voice.
Her face was pale, expressionless without her usual faint smile.
That face looked even more pitiful than a face twisted in pain.
Iris calmly looked at him and asked,
“Is there something you need to say?”
Cedric was at a loss for words after seeing her like this.
But as Iris resumed comparing the numbers in the documents and checking them carefully, he managed to ask,
“What exactly are you doing right now?”
Iris seemed puzzled by the question and replied,
“The Lady has work to do.” "Then why, now of all times..."
Why is it that someone who should be resting is instead out of bed, working?
Why are you pushing yourself so relentlessly, as if it’s only natural to burn yourself out?
Why are you moving about with that calm face, not even seeming to realize how unwell you truly are?
How did things ever come to this?
He had so many questions he wanted to ask her right then, but the words tangled inside him, unsure where to begin.
That was the problem.
As Iris looked at him, her lips parted slightly.
“…I’m sorry.”
It was a habitual apology—one that came too easily, too often.
“…I suppose I’m still unworthy.”
Her voice was small, almost inaudible, tinged with quiet dejection.
Her fluttering lashes trembled like the wings of a butterfly before lowering. Eyes cast downward, she hesitated, carefully gauging his reaction.
“I misunderstood… I’ve only been a burden, haven’t I.”
Something in Cedric’s heart sank into a deep, cold hollow.
It felt suffocating, like grief too heavy to hold.
Chapter 18