The Male Lead Is Obsessed With My Health Chapter 205

The night grew deeper, but the heat of the imperial ballroom showed no sign of cooling.

If anything, since the festivities would continue until early morning, it could be said that the real ballroom had only just begun.

Parties hosted by the imperial family always stirred up countless topics of conversation and were never quiet—but tonight was especially different.

The focus of people’s attention was not Empress Ageni, who enjoyed overwhelming popularity, nor the Shirua ruler who rarely appeared before nobles or the public, nor even Prince Therion, beloved for his approachable cuteness.

It was the future of this nation—

the Crown Prince Pession, who had voluntarily gone to the Northern Fortress and returned after protecting the imperial citizens of Albrecht from the threat of monsters—headlined in exactly those words across the front pages of the newspapers.

“Your Highness, greetings.”

“Greetings to you as well, my lady.”

As if he didn’t even feel the oppressive gazes constantly directed at him, he responded with flawless elegance and a perfect smile, leaving no opening at all.

“…Another wave of victims, I see.”

Watching his own kin from a secluded corner—carefully positioned so no one would bother him—Shirua clicked his tongue.

Sure enough, the young ladies who had initially been captivated by Pession’s smile were gradually repelled by an invisible wall and peeled away one by one.

“Sister, try this. It’s good.”

“You eat plenty yourself, Therion.”

“Where did big brother go? This is really tasty.”

Therion, happily demolishing finger foods at the ballroom, looked around restlessly.

Shirua, who had been gently squishing Therion’s soft cheeks, also swept his gaze across the hall.

Where did he go?

The ballroom was large enough that he briefly considered sending someone to look for him—but just then, Pession returned.

“…?”

At the sight of Pession radiating a completely different, noticeably subdued aura compared to before he’d disappeared, Shirua tilted his head.

“Haha, Your Highness. Greetings!”

Those who didn’t know Pession well seemed oblivious to the change, still approaching him to offer greetings, attempt to build connections, or at least leave an impression—making tearful, desperate efforts.

But Shirua knew.

Right now, those people weren’t building connections at all—they were only making things worse.

“Hm. What should I do?”

Normally, he wouldn’t care in the slightest whether others were making fools of themselves or not, but for some reason, tonight it bothered him.

Hah. Guess I’ll do one good deed for once

 

 

 

***

 

 

Shirua stepped in and saved Pession.

Though honestly, it was hard to tell whether the one who truly benefited was Pession—or the person who had been clinging to him.

Under normal circumstances, Pession would have simply ignored it all, but perhaps because he wasn’t in a normal state, he followed Shirua obediently into a private room.

“Where’s Terion?”

“Huh? He was here just a moment ago. Where’d he go? Probably off getting something to eat.”

Pession clenched and unclenched his hand.

His brow furrowed as he stared at the lingering sensation still left in his palm.

Damn it.

Shirua, who had been quietly observing Pession rubbing his forehead and running a hand through his hair, narrowed his eyes.

It was the look of someone gauging whether this crown prince—who had transformed from a perfect heir into a bomb that could explode at any moment—was about to detonate.

“Did someone piss you off? You don’t look good.”

“No.”

“Riiight?”

“……”

Anyone could see that Pession was clearly hiding something as he steadied his breathing.

Shirua considered pressing him further, then decided to let it go.

When Pession had everything and went around grinning carefree, he’d just been annoyingly smug—but now, seeing someone who lacked nothing rotting and breaking down like this was oddly pitiful.

Meanwhile, unaware of Shirua’s thoughts, Pession closed his eyes and recalled what had just happened.

“I don’t understand what Your Highness is saying right now.”

Eyes trembling ever so slightly. Turmoil raging within them. Even her shaking voice.

If that was acting, she should have been an actress.

Then again, seducing him would earn her far more than acting ever could.

He’d even warned her not to indulge in foolish fantasies before ending it—so he should have shaken it off and forgotten it cleanly. And yet, the sticky discomfort wouldn’t fade, continuing to scrape at his nerves.

“Ha.”

A hollow laugh slipped out from beneath the hand covering his face.

It was unbearably unpleasant, but he didn’t know how to vent that feeling. The destructive impulse he hadn’t fully suppressed leaked out as killing intent.

“What are you doing? Keep that up and you’re going to kill someone.”

“……”

“Relax your eyes a bit. You’re scary.”

“…Maybe.”

Maybe he really should have killed her.

Then it wouldn’t have bothered him this much.

If he’d known that letting her live would irritate him this deeply.

Biting his lip, Pession felt a nameless sensation gnawing relentlessly at his nerves.

The pain on his lip was nothing compared to the fine, persistent irritation chewing away at his mind.

“Ha.”

Pession raked his fingers through his hair. As he loosened the tie constricting his neck and shrugged off his jacket, Shirua’s expression grew even more serious.

“If you’re still sane, stop overthinking. If you’re going out, then go.”

“Hem. Was it that obvious?”

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Shirua shot back at Pession instead.

“You know you look like a lunatic right now, right?”

“……”

Pession didn’t deny it.

More accurately, he couldn’t.

“What the hell is wrong with you? What is it this time that you don’t like?”

“……”

What didn’t he like?

That woman looked too much like her.

The thought surfaced instantly—and the delayed shock slammed into Pession.

“Ha.”

Ha, damn it……

The discomfort flared sharply.

It felt akin to revulsion.

At a party he was obligated to attend, where he mechanically dealt with people without any real interest, he’d first noticed her because of a gaze too blatant to ignore—and for a moment, his heart had dropped heavily into his chest.

Because it felt as though Arellin had truly come back alive.

Knowing that couldn’t be true, knowing it was nothing more than a delusion, a futile wish, an impossible dream, he denied it immediately.

And yet, having tasted that sweet dream for even an instant left a bitter aftertaste.

“Did something really happen?”

Perhaps sensing that Pession’s state was far from normal, Shirua couldn’t hold back and asked.

“No. Nothing happened.”

“Hmmm……”

A gaze full of suspicion bore into him, but Pession offered neither explanation nor excuse. He simply lowered his eyes and turned over the confusion within himself.

Everyone thought Pession wasn’t in his right mind—but his mind had always been clear, then and now.

If anything, he was too clear-headed.

It was just—

Whenever he closed his eyes, he always returned to that moment.

To the moment he silently watched Arellin’s profile as she gazed calmly out the window.

No matter how much he wanted to escape, to forget, to stop—every moment dragged him back there.

Standing in that place again, seeing Arellin, knowing full well it was his memory… yet the irretrievable times, the moments that could never be returned to, were so precious, so dear, so heartbreaking that he found himself wandering alone again, like a lost child.

Only after losing Arellin did Pession learn what loneliness was.

As he grew older, he came to understand the solitude Arellin had always worn around herself.

The fatigue, fear, suffering, and vivid pain she’d conveyed—through her gaze, her actions, sometimes her words—whether knowingly or not.

And finally—

Pession grasped the true weight of the feelings she’d confessed, the ones he hadn’t fully understood back then.

Time passed like that.

Yet none of those memories had faded; they remained sharp and vivid, so much so that when he opened his eyes, the present felt more like a dream than reality.

“……”

Pession pressed his aching eyes hard with his palm.

His mind, unable to fall asleep easily, cried out in exhaustion, while his body—long past its limits—remained perfectly fine.

It was the same even after endless battles. Falling asleep drenched in fatigue had only been temporary; waking from nightmares had happened countless times.

The more that happened, the stronger his body became, as though tempered by fire.

Had it already been fifteen years?

A span that felt long and short at the same time. Each day dragged on in pain, yet years passed in the blink of an eye. And so fifteen years slipped by.

How much longer could he endure?

“…Arellin.”

I miss you.