The Male Lead Is Obsessed With My Health – Chapter 220

Author: Asternkm

The Remren Holy Kingdom.

Archduke Ludwig, who was still called the Regent Duke of the Southern Empire despite having stepped down from the regency, was in the midst of packing up the room he had occupied for seven long years.

If it were up to his heart, he would have thrown everything aside and run straight to Albert at once, but—

“Please restrain yourself, my lord. Consider your relationship with the Holy Kingdom.”

“…….”

He could not disrespect the Holy Kingdom, which had taken him in for no less than seven years and assisted him with the Prayer of Seclusion.

In a nation governed by strict discipline and rules, even departure procedures for those who prayed were rigidly defined.

One had to pack their belongings, clean the room thoroughly, offer a final prayer of gratitude, receive a priest’s blessing, and properly bid farewell before leaving.

I just want to see Arellin already.

With Ludwig’s heart already in Albert, his retainers watching over him were growing increasingly anxious, worried he might cause some kind of incident.

“Are you departing now?”

A high priest, Bertino, came to visit, greeting him with a gentle smile from beyond the open door.

“I’ve been indebted to the Holy Kingdom for quite some time.”

“Haha. The Holy Kingdom always welcomes the visits of the faithful.”

The elderly priest laughed heartily, deep wrinkles creasing his face.

When Ludwig had believed Arellin to be dead, it felt as though the entire world had been dyed pitch-black.

He didn’t know how to describe that despair. It was different from when he had lost Shione.

It was precisely because of that desperation that he had come to the Holy Kingdom—so unlike himself—and even undertaken the Prayer of Seclusion.

The Last God.

When the once-prosperous land of the gods fell and a calamity that saved the world occurred, a god who relinquished their divinity, stepped down from the divine throne, and cared for their followers.

The Remren Holy Kingdom—said to be the sacred land where a god descended in mortal form, and the former site of the ancient Pantheon—thus became a holy nation worshipping a single god.

The existence of priests capable of wielding holy power, something once reserved only for ancient clergy, was all thanks to the grace left behind by the Last God.

They say that humans standing at the edge of despair eventually lean on a god.

Ludwig let out a bitter smile. He, who had never once felt the limits of his own abilities or his own inadequacy.

In the end, hadn’t he come here himself, clinging to a god?

“We are grateful for the devotion you have shown us during your stay, brother.”

Priest Bertino expressed his thanks, referring to the donations Ludwig had poured out during the Prayer of Seclusion. Ludwig, on the contrary, felt that if money could buy good fortune, he was willing to spend any amount.

“When I return, I’ll donate even more.”

“You have already shown more than enough sincerity. This is sufficient.”

“No. There’s joyful news, so I must do it.”

Ludwig spoke stubbornly, feeling as though this good fortune might be taken away if he didn’t make the offering. Bertino smiled and smoothly changed the subject.

“Actually, there is a reason I came all this way with my old bones. It is fortunate you have not yet departed.”

“You were looking for me? For what reason?”

“There is someone who wishes to see you.”

Ludwig’s expression stiffened.

Though Bertino now held no official post and was merely a high priest, he had once been a cardinal.

There was only one person in this land who could command Bertino.

“The Saintess wishes to meet you.”

The symbol of the Holy Kingdom.

“She says she has something to tell you regarding your godchild.”

****

The Imperial Palace of the Albert Empire.

After returning from the Spherom party, Pession began emitting an even darker aura than before, turning the Crown Prince’s palace into an increasingly treacherous field of thin ice.

Because the attending servants were all trembling and retreating, Graham, who had recently returned to the Crown Prince’s palace after a long absence, ended up personally attending to Pession.

“Sir Graham, His Highness the Crown Prince has done it again…!”

At the report delivered by the rushing servants, Graham pressed his fingers to his forehead.

Where on earth had his small, cute, gentle Crown Prince gone?

Even right after returning from the Northern Castle, Pession hadn’t exactly been easy on the servants—but he hadn’t caused chaos like this.

From smashing the Imperial Royal Guard under the pretense of “sparring” early in the morning, to vanishing at dawn and returning only after wiping out every monster near the capital’s forests—

Is something really going on with His Highness?

He even began drinking heavily, despite never touching alcohol before. For the past three days, the Crown Prince’s strange behavior had been endless.

“Your Highness Sirua. Do you perhaps know why His Highness the Crown Prince is acting this way?”

“Huh? No idea.”

“…….”

Graham shot her a suspicious look, but Sirua busily pretended not to notice.

“Ahem. I wonder why Pession is like that. I’m so curious. Ah, dying of curiosity.”

Sirua replied in an overly theatrical tone and quickly slipped away.

Graham watched the spot where she disappeared and let out a sigh.

Meanwhile, regardless of all this commotion, Pession himself had been living in agony for the past three days.

“…….”

Being unable to sleep was nothing new. Neither were the nightmares that came when he did manage to fall asleep.

The suffocating sensation that tightened around him at every moment, the bouts of shortness of breath that struck occasionally, the way he collapsed when fleeting memories brushed past him no matter how much he tried to reassure himself—

All of it had become familiar pain.

But…

Pession frowned deeply, staring at his own hand as he unconsciously clenched and unclenched it, his expression twisted.

It had only been brief contact, yet it felt as if he’d been burned—hot and lingering.

Why does she keep coming to mind?

If he stayed still, that voice would suddenly cling to his ears.

The beautifully curved eyes that softened as they smiled, the gentle gaze brimming with affection, the figure from last night that seemed to receive all the shattered moonlight alone—when those images surfaced, a sharp pain stabbed his heart.

Pession’s mood plunged once more.

Why can’t I forget?

Why… why did Arellin come to mind?

She was a confident woman—anyone could tell she’d been showered with love, the type who had probably never once been rejected. So why, in that moment, had Arellin overlapped with her?

Discomfort and unease—no, longing, and a nameless, unsettling flutter—tightened their grip around Pession.

What irritated him even more was that, despite ordering an investigation into that woman, he hadn’t obtained a single piece of reliable information.

Pession wasn’t a fool. He had already realized that someone else’s hand had interfered.

‘Mother’s side, perhaps.’

Frustration brewed into irritation.

Honestly, it would be better to return to the Northern Fortress and throw himself into endless battles with monsters—at least that would be simpler.

Unable to endure this confusion and hollowness while doing nothing, Pession tried to bolt off somewhere—anywhere.

“Hey, Brother? Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry? How about stopping for a moment?”

“…Sirua.”

Despite the killing intent still leaking off him in waves, Sirua only smiled brightly.

“You’ve got time to spare, right? Then help me out.”

And just like that, without fully understanding how, Pession was dragged along by Sirua.

“Where are we going?”

“The black market.”

Sirua, wearing a black mask lavishly adorned with gold decorations, pressed a similarly designed mask onto Pession’s face. Their distinctive features were altered as well, their colors shifted by magic.

“You still haven’t found what Grinia asked for?”

Grinia was a renowned elder druid, famous even among the Yuyo Confederation.

“Oh, that. Yeah… still haven’t found it. But that’s not why we’re here today.”

“Then?”

“I heard a divine beast is going to be auctioned at this black market.”

A cold light flickered in Sirua’s eyes.

“So I’m here to see it for myself.”

A divine beast—the guardian deity of the beastfolk, and a treasure even within Albrecht.

And Sirua, who was especially beloved by divine beasts, harbored an intense hatred for dealings in such shadows.

As Pession watched Sirua’s quiet, burning anger, he scanned their surroundings with a detached gaze.

People gathered with their faces concealed behind masks, unrecognizable to one another.

‘Ciel.’

Even so, a few figures stood out to Pession’s keen eyes.

The moment he locked eyes with a man wearing a white mask that suited him perfectly, Pession knew who it was. He greeted him with his eyes, then shifted his gaze to the man standing beside Noel.

‘If not Noel, then who did he come with?’

Pession examined the man indifferently—then frowned.

“…Mehen?”

He wondered if he was mistaken, but there was no way Pession could fail to recognize Mehen.

Why was Mehen… here?

Pop, papapop, pop.

The lighting in the crowded hall shifted as a host wearing a rabbit mask stepped forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome, all of you seeking something special. You’ve come to the right place—this is the black market, where nothing is impossible to find. Tonight, we guarantee your enjoyment!”

****

“Looks like the auction has started.”

At Silvy’s words, I nodded.

An unusual level of commotion drifted down from upstairs.

“Ha, finally. Time to move.”

I’d waited long enough.

“Then we should now—”

“Escape.”

Color returned to Silvy’s face.

After my relentless persuasion, Silvy had finally accepted that I really was a mage, and now she looked at me with complete trust.

“And while we’re at it—let’s wreck the auction.”

My master once said—