How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending - Chapter 7.1
“…Your Grace, the Grand Consort? What, what brings you here?”
A woman who seemed to be Constantine’s nanny greeted me stiffly. Instead of answering, I glanced past her into the room.
Inside the canopy bed was a small, trembling shadow. It was Constantine, curled up tightly and shaking all over.
He was the protagonist of Chronicles of the Sword, who overcame countless trials and ultimately seized the imperial throne. But there was no trace of that dignified figure who later defeated Everett and ascended to power. Seeing the small, fragile boy only made my heart ache.
“Uncle… ah, hic, hngh…”
Tristan sat with his back to me, his expression hidden.
I brushed past the nanny and approached the bed.
Constantine barely lifted his head to look up at me. His lips were pale and cracked. On his bloodless, pallid face, dark bluish spots were scattered here and there.
“D-don’t come any closer, hic, stay away from me…!”
Startled, Constantine struggled as if trying to flee from me. Only then did Tristan turn to look at me, his face filled with dismay.
“What is it, Grand Consort?”
His hoarse, half-broken voice came out low. I swallowed nervously. What I was about to say would likely sound insane to Tristan. But…
My eyes were drawn to Constantine’s gaunt face.
A five-year-old who should have been showered with his parents’ love was instead writhing in pain every night. Left alone, he would continue to suffer for over a decade.
To ignore it as if it were none of my concern felt far too cruel. Anyone who saw Constantine would think the same.
I had no choice but to squeeze my eyes shut and speak out.
“Your Grace. I believe Constantine… His Highness the Crown Prince’s son, is not suffering from an ordinary illness.”
“What? What nonsense is that? Please, leave at once! Can’t you see you’re frightening the young master?”
The outburst came not from Tristan but from the nanny, who shouted in alarm, her face red with panic.
Given Ruellin’s past behavior, her reaction was understandable. Still, I ignored her and faced Tristan directly.
His blue eyes met mine. They were clear and devoid of emotion. Facing those cold, unreadable eyes, I slowly parted my lips.
“His Highness is suffering from Mushak poisoning.”
It was a bombshell declaration.
The knights who had rushed into the chamber when I arrived fell silent, as did Constantine and the nanny, both staring at me in shock. I carefully studied Tristan’s expression.
His sculpted face remained unmoved. His gaze was calm and composed, which somehow made it even more frightening. My hands trembled, but I clenched them tightly to stop the shaking.
“Your evidence?”
Tristan finally spoke, his tone clipped.
My mouth went dry. I wasn’t a doctor, and I had no concrete proof. I was only repeating what the original novel described. Moreover, Mushak was not a well-known poison in this world.
Still, I remembered a brief passage that had described its symptoms. I hurriedly pieced my words together.
“Nerve spasms, skin spots, a tingling sensation throughout the body… all are typical signs of chronic Mushak poisoning.”
“Those are common symptoms that cannot confirm poisoning.”
“That can be verified once we prepare and test an antidote.”
“Even if it were true, there is no known cure for Mushak poisoning.”
“I know how to make an antidote. My family, um… our house keeps a medical tome that has been passed down through generations.”
It was true that the Elsworth family had long been known for its medical expertise. But if I were to ask my adoptive father for that time now, he would never grant it. After all, the original Ruellin had a strained relationship with him. The Viscount only ever used Ruellin as a tool.
Even so, I had another plan to rely on. I stammered through my clumsy excuse, desperately trying to convince Tristan.
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