Published: January 15, 2026
Targa knocked on the door and spoke in a low voice.
"It's Targa. I've brought Baron Van. Excuse me."
With that, he opened the door, revealing a scene that was nothing short of a battlefield. Several people were standing around the bed, moving their hands busily, while others ran around carrying containers of water and fresh cloths.
"Stop the bleeding properly!"
"Bring water quickly!"
Amidst the chaos, I fixed my gaze on the face of the person lying on the bed.
Seeing my father’s pale face, I was unable to think clearly. Bandages were wrapped around his shoulders, arms, and abdomen, but most worryingly, it was his legs. His right leg was gone from below the knee. The bed was stained completely red, and his thigh was tightly bound in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it seemed the bleeding wasn’t under control.
"I-I’ll help too!"
Til’s voice trembled as she offered to assist with the first aid and hurried forward. Watching her, I then stepped closer to the bed.
As I approached, I realized Jarpa's condition was far worse than I had imagined. He was unconscious, breathing shallow and faint. His complexion was almost completely white.
"...Lord Van."
When I turned at the call of my name, Arte grasped my hand with teary eyes. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her trying to encourage me in her own way. Her kindness made my eyes sting with tears, but I held them back and only nodded.
Looking to Targa beside me, I saw him frowning sternly as he looked down at Jarpa.
"...Lord Van. I hate to say it, but you should prepare for the worst."
When Targa said that, I saw Stradale’s expression twist from where he was standing behind. To me, Stradale was like a samurai — silent, dedicated to the sword and battle, and utterly loyal to those he serves. Seeing him silently staring at Jarpa lying on the bed made tears threaten to spill again.
Kamushin and Row weren’t looking at Jarpa’s face, but at me with concern. I was aware that I was causing them worry, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
Meanwhile, Til desperately wiped the sweat from Jarpa’s face and brought fresh water, even as a knight shouted at her. Everyone present was doing their best to care for him, but no matter how I thought about it, this didn’t look like it would end well.
As despair began to fill the room, Panamera, arms crossed and intently watching the situation, sighed.
"...Hah. I really don’t want to be blamed for this."
I turned towards the voice, confused by the words, and met Panamera’s sharp, blade-like gaze.
Panamera brought her palm in front of her face and spoke.
"...I can’t say if he’ll live or die, but I can perform hemostasis. However, in his current state, I’d say the survival rate is below ten percent."
She muttered softly and then suddenly, from her wrist upward, a red light glowed. Flames flickered, wrapping around her palm.
"...You mean, burn?"
I asked, and Panamera shrugged her shoulders before looking at Jarpa.
"He’s stopped some bleeding, but if the blood continues to flow even a little longer, the marquis will definitely die. Burning can stop the bleeding... but from my experience, many have died because of the burning. If that happens, the boy will hate me, won’t he?"
"...I won’t hate you. Please, do it."
With strong resolve, I replied to Panamera’s words. She smiled wryly and moved toward Jarpa.
"...The death of family isn’t something you can easily come to terms with. But if I just watch without doing anything, I’ll be hated anyway. It’s a thankless role, truly."
She said this with a hint of sadness before standing right next to Jarpa. The knights and Til stopped moving, listening to Panamera.
"You there. Remove the cloth on the marquis’s leg. But do not undo the bandages stopping the bleeding, got it?"
"Y-Yes...!"
At Panamera’s command, one of the knights removed the cloth wrapped around the tip of the foot. As soon as the blood-soaked cloth was taken away, the severed end of the blood-drenched leg was exposed. It was impossible to stare at directly.