Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 46

Chapter 8: End of Summer

Dr. Brehman watched Ezekiel stride in with large, confident steps, inwardly impressed. Just like last time, it was hard to believe this man was blind, given the way he walked so boldly without a cane. He even pulled up an armchair in the drawing room and sat down naturally without anyone’s help.

He had heard that the man had suffered severely from withdrawal symptoms, yet Ezekiel’s face looked much healthier now than before. The past pallor typical of opium addicts had vanished, and his pupils had returned to normal. His physique had grown even more solid. It was clear at a glance that he had been eating well, resting well, and recovering well.

Most of all, his aura had changed. Back then, his nerves had been so on edge that he snapped the moment the examination ended. Now, he appeared far more relaxed and at ease. The loosened curve of his lips and softened gaze made him seem like a completely different person. Dr. Brehman suspected the change was due to the influence of the maid who entered with him.

The two walked in keeping a vague distance. It looked as though they had been much more physically close somewhere out of sight but had deliberately separated out of consideration for the doctor’s presence.

The maid indeed maintained proper decorum, trying to fulfill her duties with a composed posture, but the man was brimming with sentiment. The way he leaned slightly in her direction and tried to gauge her every movement gave it away. As if he disliked the distance between them, he tried several times to draw her close, all of which ended in failure.

“The doctor is right here. You can’t.”

Dr. Brehman heard the maid’s soft, chiding voice.

Her name was Rose, if he recalled correctly.

She had written to him several times on Ezekiel’s behalf to report on his condition. Beyond the content, what left an impression was the graceful script that flowed from the first stroke of her signature. The moment he received the letters, he had involuntarily recalled what she looked like.

From her face alone, she didn’t appear very old, yet her demeanor was calm beyond her years. He remembered how none of her movements, large or small, ever felt hurried. Perhaps her rare, low-pitched voice enhanced that composed air.

“It’s been a while.”

Dr. Brehman offered a polite greeting.

“I’ve continued receiving updates from Miss Rose. She detailed your recovery so thoroughly that I hardly needed to confirm anything further.”

At the doctor’s praise, Ezekiel tilted his head back slightly. The subtle angle of his jawline was artful.

“Rose is meticulous.”

“You have quite the capable maid. I was surprised by how beautiful her handwriting was.”

It had been a casual compliment. Yet Rose had surprised Dr. Brehman multiple times already. First, when she calmly soothed Ezekiel after he flew into a rage following a previous examination. Second, when she chased after the departing doctor to express concern about unusual opiate symptoms and discuss potential solutions in detail. Third, when she helped Ezekiel through his withdrawal. And fourth, through the orderly penmanship and elegant phrasing of her letters.

Those moments had led him to suspect she wasn’t an ordinary maid from a common background.

And the young man before him clearly never let any comment about his maid go unnoticed.

“Rose is good at writing too?”

“Yes, exceptionally so. Truly impressive.”

“She’s talented in many ways.”

“I agree. I’m sure anyone who meets Miss Rose would think the same.”

“Is that so.”

As Dr. Brehman affirmed this, the man’s handsome brows drew together.

“I almost forgot. Right, a jewel is a jewel to everyone. A beautiful person isn’t only beautiful to me.”

Ezekiel’s voice carried a complex, lingering emotion. A mix of regret that he, as her lover, might know the least about her; jealousy toward the other men who had recognized her strengths first; and anticipation for the upcoming treatment.

Even a well-known officer like “the Major of the 37th Regiment” was no different from other men in front of his beloved. It was the first time Ezekiel Valdemaira looked like an ordinary young man in love.

Once, he had lived with no room for emotional leeway, both physically and mentally. Now, with the change of seasons, he had made remarkable progress. It was proof that his mind and body had recovered well.

“It seems you’ve been doing well. I’m glad.”

At Dr. Brehman’s congratulations, Ezekiel passed the credit to Rose.

“It’s thanks to Rose. Rarely in my life have I ever felt this peaceful in both body and mind.”

Considering he had only lived some twenty-three or twenty-four years, Ezekiel was still just a young man for someone speaking of a lifetime. Yet even Dr. Brehman, who had lived more than twice as long, could see that Ezekiel’s short life had been full of ups and downs.

There are such people in the world.

Those who attract attention from a young age. Born with an innate presence that makes them stand out no matter what they do. The kind who become the subject of gossip, whose every move draws eyes.

The kind who experiences life’s major turning points, things others face over decades or never at all, in rapid succession.

Ezekiel was one of them.

He had enlisted in the army in his mid-to-late teens. When war broke out, he rose to prominence as an officer in the 37th Regiment, a unit that stirred all of Astrie. Then, he became entangled in intrigue, a victim of his jealous brother.

Despite only being in his early twenties, his life had seen extreme highs and lows. It was rare to find someone so young who had suffered such dramatic twists of fate in such a short span.

On the battlefield, his body was battered. At home, his spirit was worn. Ezekiel’s time and emotions left no room for rest. When Dr. Brehman had first met him, the dominant feelings radiating from him were rage and despair. His desperation and the belief that he couldn’t remain in his current state were so intense, even Brehman sitting opposite him could feel it.

But if he had changed his mindset to accept this isolation in the mansion as rest, then surely, the person who contributed most to that decision was the maid.

The woman who brought emotional calm and comfort to a man who could not accept his ruined state overnight, whose pride had been deeply wounded by his blindness.

Now that man, no longer steeped in extreme despair, exuded the presence of someone who had once captivated hearts as “Major Valdemaira of the 37th Regiment.”

“I’ll wait outside. Call me if you need anything.”

Rose, who had taken a step back, quietly tried to excuse herself.

“Where do you think you’re going.”

It was instant. Ezekiel reached out and grabbed her.

Dr. Brehman looked at her, slightly surprised. She stood awkwardly, held in place, wearing a somewhat embarrassed expression.

“I thought I was in the way.”

“Who said that? Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“……”

“You’ve stayed this long, so why now? How are you in the way? If anything, I’d be more unsettled if you weren’t here. That would be the real disturbance.”

Ezekiel shut her down firmly. Dr. Brehman agreed.

The first time he had visited the mansion, Rose had stayed by Ezekiel’s side, holding his hand and encouraging him until the examination ended safely. Especially now, when painkillers couldn’t be used, Rose herself was more effective than any sedative. Dr. Brehman also found her presence reassuring.

“Yes, it’s better with Miss Rose here. The patient’s stability comes first.”

“And you give me purpose. You know, Rose. When I regain my sight, who do you think I want to see first? You can’t leave my side.”

With both men persuading her, Rose hesitated. Though the light was dim, Dr. Brehman thought she looked unusually pale. Where before it was clearly Ezekiel who appeared sickly, now Rose looked even more unwell than the patient.

“Miss Rose, are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’ll stay.”

She quickly shook her head and straightened her posture, stepping closer to Ezekiel.

“Rose, are you sick again?”

Ezekiel tried to read her with unfocused eyes.

“Of course not. I’m just a bit nervous.”

“I’m the one getting treated. Why are you nervous?”

“…Exactly,” she replied with a faint, sighing smile.

“I told you, I only fight battles I can win. Trust me. Don’t worry.”

Dr. Brehman caught the complex wave of emotion that briefly crossed her face.

Even to someone unfamiliar with the situation, it was obvious the master of this mansion was entirely focused on his lover just before a critical treatment—yet Rose seemed more frightened than anyone.

She was likely worrying about everything the man himself didn’t. Her nature seemed cautious.

Wiping away the thought, Dr. Brehman picked up the lamp. Ezekiel calmly faced the light.