THDR 07

THDR

Posted by Bela, Released on October 9, 2025

Chapter 7

It felt like I’d accidentally stumbled upon a huge secret, but the image of Mr. Veilt pretending to slit his own throat flashed in my mind, so I decided to scrub all those thoughts clean out of my head.

Besides, even if I knew, it’s not like I had anywhere to go around blabbing it—and I didn’t want to anyway.

A servant of the devil, huh?

There hadn’t been any “servants” in the novel.

So I guess the reason the boss became so broken isn’t entirely the heroine’s fault after all.

If Joshua cried that much while saying it, there had to be more to it.

After that, Joshua acted like he wanted me to pretend I didn’t know anything, so I just behaved as usual.

Not that I had even the slightest intention of getting involved with them any deeper.

All I wanted was to do my job, then move to a quiet little countryside village and…

Live peacefully?

Usually, after you save someone, their obsession just changes direction…

Though since he’s so obsessed with the Saintess, maybe that won’t happen this time.

But if he did end up liking me…

Then sure, I’ll gladly carry around my gloomy, brooding, handsome boss on my arm. He’s rich and good-looking—why on earth would I say no?

Feeling quite pleased with my daydream, I knocked cheerfully on the boss’s door before walking in.

“I’m here! I came by!”

“Go back.”

I ignored him easily, stepped inside, and closed the door behind me.

“I brought some fruit…”

“…Not hungry.”

“I’ll just have some myself then. They said peaches came in today, and I brought them to eat. I always get sleepy when I’m here for some reason, so I should eat something to stay awake.”

Totally not for you, Boss. I brought them for me.

He gave me a baffled look, but I plopped down beside him anyway. I stabbed a neatly sliced peach with my fork, just about to happily pop it into my mouth when—

Clack.

A large hand grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

“What?”

With his eyes lowered, he muttered darkly,

“…Mine.”

Oh. The boss likes peaches too.

“Should I bring you some? These are mine.”

Whether it was competitiveness or childishness, he clamped his pretty lips shut—and promptly took the peach on my fork right into his mouth.

“Huh?!”

“Everything in this mansion is mine.”

It sounded childish, but… he wasn’t wrong.

“You’re right.”

Still, couldn’t he have asked instead of snatching it?

Every piece I stabbed disappeared into his mouth. My feeble strength was no match for him.

How did he even know food tastes better when you steal it?

He looked cute with his cheeks full of peaches, but I refused to let that sway me.

“I said I’ll bring you your own. Why do you keep stealing mine?”

“…”

He didn’t even answer when it didn’t suit him. Still holding my wrist, he kept taking peaches from me until only one was left.

“Here, just finish them. All of them.”

I held out the last slice for him in defeat, but instead of taking it, he turned my wrist toward my face.

“…Should I eat this one then?”

“…”

Before he could change his mind, I shoved it into my mouth.

“So good!”

“…”

“It’s such a shame I only got one piece. If I’d had two, I could’ve judged the flavor better. Just one—it’s so unsatisfying…”

“…Have more, then.”

“Okay.”

I stood up right away, but he suddenly grabbed my ankle. I stumbled, barely stopping myself from falling flat on my face.

A flash of panic ran through me at how close I came to kissing the floor. I glared down at him.

“You’ve got to be careful doing that! I could’ve hit my nose on the floor! I could’ve fallen!”

“Got it. Go…”

“Let go first.”

“…Bye.”

I said let go!

He only squeezed harder.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

How could he ask me that?

I sighed, giving up.

“I don’t want to leave anymore.”

And I won’t share any more peaches, either!

“…Fine.”

Only then did he finally release my ankle.

Did you really just want me to stay with you that badly?

Well, that was a good sign—so I decided to stay.

“Boss, why are you sitting on the floor all the time? There’s a sofa, even a bed.”

“…It’s cold. Don’t like it.”

He actually answered for once.

Cold? Really?

“How about I put a heating spell on the bed?”

He gave me a look that said what are you talking about, but I pressed my hand on the mattress anyway.

“Hm, it’s not that cold. The room itself isn’t even chilly, so the floor should be colder.”

“…You don’t know anything.”

“I do know it’s a fancy bed. But sitting on the floor too long will make your butt cold. Want me to bring you a cushion?”

“I’m—ugh.”

He suddenly groaned.

“Boss?”

“…Get out.”

Didn’t he just tell me not to go before? Now he was pushing me away again.

Even through that brief contact, I could feel the heat pouring off him through his clothes.

He hadn’t felt this warm while eating peaches.

So it wasn’t just a mood swing—he was sick.

He’s got a fever?

I reached out to check, but he grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“Understand when I say it once.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stood quietly. He gave me a bewildered look but didn’t stop me as I left.

Guess he only acted out earlier because he’s not feeling well.

I should’ve realized.

I left his room and went straight to find Joshua. He usually lazed around the gardens or hung near Jessica and Lynette.

Luckily, he was sprawled out on the grass today.

“Joshua!”

“Spit it out.”

“The boss seems to have a fever.”

I’d sought him out because from our earlier talk, it seemed like he was the only one who really knew about the boss’s condition.

If Mr. Veilt knew, he would’ve at least hinted that the boss might get sick—but he hadn’t said a word.

Sure enough, Joshua sprang to his feet.

“A fever?”

“Yeah. I could feel the heat from here.”

“…You left him alone?”

Why was he looking at me like I was trash?

I wanted him to know I wasn’t heartless enough to just abandon a sick boss.

“What was I supposed to do? Standing there wasn’t going to help. It’s better to find a way to treat him. What should I do? Call a doctor? Or do you want to go?”

“No doctor. They can’t help him anyway. I can’t go either… I just went not long ago, and I can’t again…”

He sniffled miserably.

“What about Jessica or Lynette?”

“They’re too clumsy.”

“Then I’ll do it. Anything I should bring? Something to lower the fever?”

“Not really… Just keep wiping his body with cold water. He hates it, though. And if you brew some willow bark tea, it’ll help a little. The kitchen always has some—just ask, they’ll prepare it.”

“Who usually brings it to him?”

“I do… If I leave it by his bed, he drinks it himself.”

So, I was the only one left who could help. And I’d already seen that he was sick.

Following Joshua’s advice, I asked the head chef, and he immediately prepared the tea. Carrying the steaming cup, I knocked on the boss’s door.

“I brought the willow tea.”

“…Leave it inside and go.”

“Okay.”

“…”

I heard a dissatisfied grunt, but I opened the door, placed the tea inside, and shut it again. Then I went downstairs, filled a basin with cold water, grabbed a clean cloth, and returned.

Knock knock.

“I’m back.”

“Leave it—no, go.”

He must’ve been really out of it.

I opened the door and stepped in. The room, which had been slightly cool before, was now hot enough to feel stifling.

At the center of it, the boss was curled up on the floor like a shrimp, groaning in pain.

Even now, he wasn’t in bed—he was on the floor, probably trying to cool himself down. His long bangs were drenched with sweat, sticking messily to his face. His glasses were askew.

He bit his lip hard and glared at me.

“Why’d you come in… Get out…!”

“Yes, I’m going to you, boss.”

“…What the hell are you saying…”

I brought the tray closer, dipped the cloth in cold water, wrung it out, took off his glasses, and placed the cloth on his forehead.

“You…!”

“Joshua said this helps. Don’t be stubborn. My policy is never to argue with sick people.”

So please, be quiet and accept my nursing like a good patient.

Through the loosened ties of his poet shirt, his well-toned chest and shoulders were visible, but I’m a person of great integrity.

I tucked away any stray thoughts and began wiping his neck with another cool cloth—only to notice a tattoo shaped like a snake winding from his chest to his shoulder.

A snake tattoo?

That’s the symbol of the devil. People don’t get those lightly.

Well, I suppose he was a wild one in his youth. Maybe it was a reckless decision back then.

I kept wiping—his sweat-drenched neck, arms, legs—thoroughly. When I reached his legs, his body jerked. He grimaced and tried to pull away.

“Not the legs…!”

I held on tighter.

“You have nice legs, boss.”

“…Ha.”

He sounded too exhausted to argue further.

Good—he didn’t even have the strength to be cranky.

I continued to wipe him down with the cold cloth, changing the water whenever it warmed, again and again.

After who knows how many times, I heard the sound of his breathing ease into sleep.