Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 13

“Even though on the battlefield, you never asked for painkillers when you were shot…”

Just like on the battlefield, he clenched his teeth and endured the pain without letting out a single groan.

How could he be so calm?

It wasn’t impressive that his composure was the result of countless frustrations—it was sad. It was painful and bitter.

Just because he didn’t speak of it, just because he tried not to show it, just because he had been through pain so many times before, didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting now…

If only she could share in his pain. If only she could do something instead of just standing by helplessly, watching him suffer.

The fact that the one who committed the crime and the one who suffered from it were two separate people—along with the moments she spent watching it unfold right in front of her, forcing her to recall her past mistakes—made it hard to breathe at times.

Rose tugged at her sleeve, intending to wipe the sweat from his face. But after taking a step forward, she stopped, thinking her shadow might interfere with the examination.

As Rose quietly gazed at Ezekiel, her eyes fell to the floor. Then, when she noticed his fingers trembling ever so slightly, she realized what she needed to do.

Kneeling beside him, she gently wrapped her hand around his pale knuckles, gripping his fingers that had turned white from the tension. He squeezed her hand tightly in response. The strength of his grip was rough, and her fingers ached from the pressure, but Rose didn’t flinch. Compared to the agony that must be raging in his head, this was nothing.

Her palm grew damp in an instant.

Each second dragged on endlessly, as if it stretched into eternity.

Rose, holding her breath, waited for the doctor’s examination to end. The doctor, more nervous than the patient, took several minutes before he finally finished and turned off the lamp.

Then, there was silence.

Ah.

From the doctor’s reaction, Rose already knew the answer.

Sometimes, nonverbal cues carry far more meaning than spoken words. The doctor avoided her gaze, his pupils darting anxiously. He fidgeted awkwardly and hastily packed up the tools he had barely used, putting them back into his bag. All of this clearly conveyed the diagnosis.

Rose glanced at Ezekiel’s face, contorted in pain, then wiped the sweat from his brow with her sleeve.

The silence dragged on a little longer.

“How long are you going to stay quiet? If you’ve finished the examination, then give me your answer.”

Ezekiel finally spoke. Despite being drenched in sweat, his voice was as dry as if nothing had happened.

The doctor fumbled as he hurriedly responded, “Oh, um, well…”

Well.

It wasn’t a word that usually preceded good news. It was also a sure sign that the doctor was about to deliver a convoluted, long-winded explanation. Having heard doctors twist simple yes-or-no answers into complex riddles many times before, Ezekiel issued a warning.

“Let me make this clear. Don’t try to sugarcoat it or turn it into a complicated puzzle I have to decode. Just tell me exactly what you see.”

Startled by the weight of the command, which carried the authority of a former officer, the doctor cut straight to the point.

“I-I’m afraid there’s no hope for your eyes.”

It was the outcome they had expected. It was the same response they had heard many times before. Yet, the effort Ezekiel had made to endure the pain felt meaningless in the face of it.

Ezekiel muttered a curse under his breath, “Damn it.”

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Even the faint household noises disappeared. Since he was the one who set the tone for the entire mansion, this change was inevitable.

From his cold, steely expression, Rose could sense a sharp, simmering fury.

The flustered doctor fidgeted nervously, shifting in his seat. It was obvious he wanted to escape the drawing room as quickly as possible.

Rose could somewhat understand the fear gripping the doctor. If he were a thin, handsome man like Akenaus, it might be different. But a large, imposing officer like Ezekiel, with his cold demeanor, could be intimidating with just a slight narrowing of his eyes. Even a short curse from him could be enough to make someone’s heart race and spirit falter.

No… That’s not right.

Rose corrected herself.

The comparison was flawed. Akenaus was a man who could smile while ordering his brother’s murder. As for sinister and treacherous behavior, he far outclassed Ezekiel.

Before losing his sight, Ezekiel had been an admirable man, even from the fleeting memories she had of him from the battlefield. He had turned his horse around to rescue the schoolgirls and had instructed his men to be mindful of the terrified girls. He was a gentleman, not comparable to the cowardly and despicable Akenaus.

If someone needed to be hurt, Akenaus would have someone else do the dirty work, staining another’s hands with blood, but Ezekiel would take matters into his own hands and finish them himself.

But all of that was meaningless speculation now. Ezekiel was no longer in a position to challenge Akenaus or even take care of himself.

“Is there nothing else you can say?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m asking if you have any diagnosis that’s not so damn predictable.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but there was an icy chill in the air.

“It’s strange. Every single one of you says the exact same thing. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve met dozens of doctors or if I’ve just met the same doctor dozens of times.”

The doctor shot a pleading look at Rose, but this was her first time witnessing such an interaction as well.

“Do you know what I start thinking every time I hear the same diagnosis?”

“…Major…”

“I want to kill you right this instant. I should kill you. How should I kill you? I’ve imagined every possible way in my head hundreds of times.”

The conversation took a violent turn, and the doctor’s face turned pale, mistaking Ezekiel’s words for a direct threat against him.

But the person who should truly fear those words wasn’t the doctor. Rose recalled the rumors she had heard from Anna.

Some doctors had fled the mansion in a panic immediately after their examinations.

It made sense. Ezekiel wasn’t the type to explain his thoughts in detail. His temper had grown harsher after losing his sight, and he had become rougher in his interactions with others. It was easy to misunderstand him.

While the doctors had only been to the mansion once, for Ezekiel, this scenario had played out dozens of times. It was no wonder his anger and frustration had reached such extremes that he entertained violent fantasies.

But Rose knew exactly who Ezekiel truly wanted to kill.

Akenaus.

And herself.

Every time he heard the same diagnosis, it was only natural for his mind to link back to those who had ruined his eyes and caused his suffering. As he had said, the more he thought about it, the more he would want to kill them, fueling his hatred with every new fantasy of revenge.

The timid doctor didn’t linger in the drawing room. His face stayed ashen the whole time, and before long, he mumbled some ridiculous excuse and hurriedly left the mansion.

Madam Serva clicked her tongue after seeing him off.

“He didn’t even look back, running off like his tail was on fire. Makes you wonder if he’s guilty of something.”

No.

Rose disagreed silently. On the contrary, because he wasn’t guilty, he could flee without hesitation before things escalated. Being able to run away without guilt was a privilege reserved for the innocent.

That’s how it seemed to her.

“Don’t be too upset. That doctor was just another useless quack.”

Madam Serva’s consolation was entirely focused on keeping Ezekiel’s mood in check.

Every doctor who had examined him had reached the same conclusion. His lost eyesight was like a severed limb—it couldn’t be restored.

So, the doctor who had just left was no more than an average physician with ordinary skills.

“The next doctor will be more reputable. I’ve even heard that some doctors are going on tours, promoting their medical skills through public performances. Who was it again…?”

Madam Serva promised better results next time.

Next time. There would be a next time.

Swallowing the word like a lump in her throat, Rose turned her back to the room and quietly began tidying up so that her expression wouldn’t be seen.

How could she even begin to describe this feeling?

Her chest felt tight. It had been that way since the moment the doctor walked in. It felt as though something was lodged deep inside her, something she couldn’t swallow or spit out. No matter how many breaths she took, it didn’t go away.

It was suffocating.

Rose lowered her gaze. It was her own feelings, her own thoughts, but she was terrified to look too closely at them. And what scared her even more was that, deep down, she thought she already knew the reason why.

Watching him endure the agony of the examination had made her chest tighten with sympathy, but when the doctor declared there was no way to save his eyes…

Suddenly, Rose felt a shiver run down her spine. Her hand trembled. It happened just as she was clearing the teacups from the table. The tea had been prepared for the guest, but the doctor, perhaps unsettled by the gloomy atmosphere of the mansion, hadn’t taken a single sip.

The teacup clattered against the saucer, spilling cold tea over her hand. Fortunately, it wasn’t hot. Rose quickly wiped her hand with her sleeve.

“Rose, are you alright?” Madam Serva, startled by the noise, turned to Rose.

“Yes, it was cold tea, so I’m fine.” Rose tried to brush it off as a simple mistake. But the chill that had run down her spine left a lingering unease.

Because when the doctor said there was no way to save his eyes…

Rose clasped her trembling hands together.

…Part of her had felt relieved. She had.

As shameful as it was.