Tail’s Curse Chapter 30

Cordelia cautiously glanced around before asking hesitantly,  

 

“Are you alright?”  

 

“I should be the one asking that.”  

 

The man resting his arms on the steering wheel murmured, “Are you okay? I didn’t see any obvious injuries.”  

 

“Yes. Thanks to you. I’m grateful.”  

 

“That’s a relief.”  

 

His words were textbook-perfect—polished, affectionate, and gentlemanly, as if straight out of an etiquette manual.

 

Yet his eyes only turned toward her after he started the car. 

 

Meeting her uneasy gaze, he let out a short laugh.  

 

“Your eyes get even bigger when you’re scared.”  

 

I think it was like that back then, too.  

 

As Cordelia stared blankly, Noah turned his head away and briefly swept his hand over his forehead.  

 

“Miss Cordelia, sorry to change the subject, but…”  

 

“Could we see the mermaid statue another time? I’m not really in the mood to walk around right now.”  

 

“Oh, of course! You’ve just been in an accident—please go rest!”  

 

When Cordelia fluttered and nodded eagerly like a small animal, Noah let out a quiet sigh.  

 

“It’s strange. I don’t particularly have a conscience, nor am I a warm person, but whenever I see you, Miss Cordelia, I feel… something. Like an itch I can’t ignore. It keeps bothering me. Is this what people call a conscience?”  

 

“Conscience?”  

 

“It’s like a mangy puppy whining—you can’t help but reach out. Weird, isn’t it? I usually can’t stand most animals. They smell, you know.”  

 

As Noah rambled on unabashedly while smoothly turning the wheel, Cordelia froze again before discreetly pulling her sleeve up to sniff it.  

 

Is he saying I smell?  

 

Without even glancing at her, he added,  

 

“That’s my mother’s dress.”  

 

“Gasp! I-I’m sorry! I’ll wash it and—”  

 

“Who said you had to? Just stating a fact.”  

 

“Ah…”  

 

Unsure what to make of it, Cordelia—scrambling to scrape together whatever social skills she lacked—managed to say,  

 

“It must be precious to you. Thank you for lending it to me.”  

 

“What’ll you give me in return for your thanks?”  

 

“…Is there something you need?”

 

Noah glanced sideways at the pale face that seemed to say, ‘You’ve already taken my eyes, my hair, and my treasures—what more could you possibly want?’ before covering his mouth and bursting into giggles.

 

It wasn’t a polite laugh but a genuinely amused one, his previously tense expression softening without notice.  

 

“You’re looking at me like I’m some kind of villain. Did I say you had to repay me?”  

 

“You are the creditor here.”  

 

“What? Hahaha!”  

 

Noah roared with laughter, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel at the timid muttering. 

 

I couldn’t tell what was so funny. I am the debtor, and he is the moneylender—maybe it’s amusing because he’s not the one who has to pay back.  

 

The petty upper-class in me wanted to argue back but didn’t dare, only managing to pout. 

 

Before I knew it, the sun had dipped westward, the soft sulfur-colored twilight tickling my round, puffed cheeks. 

 

The sunset draped over the pearly hair and mysterious coral-colored eyes.  

 

‘As expected, you really are something to look at.’  

 

Noah Tudor liked pretty things. 

 

That’s why he took such a liking to Cordelia Marguerite—her mumbling to herself, her cautious glances, her healthy appetite, even her stubbornness to fight tooth and nail when necessary.  

 

‘Keeping her around for a year or so wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve got plenty of time, after all.’  

 

Noah let her out, turned the car around, and disappeared somewhere. He said he wasn’t in the mood earlier, but it seemed something urgent had come up.  

 

Accepting it, I stepped inside the mansion—only for a young man claiming to be the Tudor family’s physician to suddenly show up in my room, insisting on an examination out of nowhere.  

 

“I heard there was an accident.”  

 

“Take a deep breath for me.”  

 

Following his instructions, I inhaled deeply as he pressed the stethoscope to my chest, nodding and scribbling something afterward. 

 

Cordelia peeked at it anxiously, though realistically, there was no need to worry.  

 

The Mermaid’s Curse was an incurable disease with no known cause.

 

After the initial symptom of vomiting blood, the condition progressed to coughing up blood, seizures, and pain under stress, yet medical examinations showed no cause—just a silent, creeping death. 

 

Even the greatest physicians and most potent medicines could not cure this inexplicable disease, so naturally, no matter how thorough the tests, they revealed nothing.  

 

Even her mother, until the day she died, was never diagnosed with any serious organ abnormalities or given a clear disease name. 

 

Medically speaking, she was perfectly healthy. 

 

That was why her father believed her mother was faking it—putting on a childish show for attention, living comfortably with no real suffering.  

 

If only it had been an act. Then her pain wouldn’t have been real.  

 

“The examination shows no abnormalities. You’re in good health.”  

 

Of course.  

 

Still, Cordelia secretly let out a sigh of relief. 

 

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind—that she could just be honest, since Noah Tudor would get what he wanted from her regardless. 

 

But…  

 

— “Promise me. You must never tell anyone about our illness. Understand?”  

 

— “What a fraud! You tried to bring a sick girl into our family? Unbelievable!”  

 

— “You useless wretch! Why did you hide your sickness, huh? Do you know what kind of disgrace you’ve brought upon us?”  

 

— “Damn it, so the marriage is off now? Huh? My only source of money, rotten to the core!”  

 

Cordelia no longer wanted to endure even the slightest ripple of misfortune her insignificant misery might bring. She had neither the strength nor the reason to.  

 

She just wanted to exist quietly, then fade away without a sound.  

 

“That said, your lungs and heart sounds are a bit weak. Have you had a weak heart since childhood, miss?”

 

At the doctor’s question, Cordelia gave a small nod. 

 

Even before falling ill, she had not been in the best of health. With a family history of weak lungs and a body that had not received sufficient nourishment during her growth years, her digestion was far from strong. 

 

Falling ill seemed to have further damaged her already weak heart.  

 

“For now, there’s nothing seriously wrong. Get some fresh air and take moderate walks. Quality meals and deep sleep are important. You should also reduce stress.”  

 

Though it was generic advice, Cordelia nodded seriously before pausing.  

 

Come to think of it, her physical condition had been unusually good lately. It wasn’t that she never coughed up blood or had nosebleeds, but they had become much less frequent. 

 

And it wasn’t as if she had increased her medication.  

 

Perhaps her body had simply grown more comfortable. If so, she ought to be grateful to that strange creditor of this place. 

 

Since he wasn’t here, Cordelia instead bowed her head to the doctor who had taken his place, packing his medical bag.  

 

“Thank you.”  

 

“Not at all. As I mentioned earlier, I’m Jacques Pierrot. Our family has served as the Tudors’ physicians for generations. Please feel free to call me by name.”  

 

He proudly introduced that his family had been with the Tudor household since the time of his great-great-grandfather’s grandmother’s father and that he had grown up as close as brothers with the current family heads, Isaac and Noah.  

 

Cordelia admired not only his prestigious profession as a doctor but also the pride he took in continuing his family’s legacy. 

 

Having once dreamed of becoming a doctor herself, she felt a sense of familiarity, especially since she was skilled with medicinal herbs.  

 

“Ah, Sir Pierrot. By any chance, is there a herb shop nearby where I can buy mermaid’s herb—that is, Clamansia?”  

 

“Clamansia? Isn’t that a poisonous herb? Why would you be looking for such a thing…?”

 

When Lord Pierrot looked puzzled, Cordelia gave her usual excuse.  

 

“I steep those herbs in milk and drink it as tea—it helps me sleep. It suits my family’s constitution, so I always make sure to have it.”  

 

“Is that so? I had no idea. You’re quite knowledgeable about herbs.”  

 

As he marveled in admiration, Cordelia smiled awkwardly. Her medicine was running low. 

 

Naturally, she couldn’t tell others about her illness, and there was no doctor to treat her, so she had to make her own medicine. 

 

Just as she always had.  

 

‘I’ve been splitting the doses since I’ve been feeling better, but if I suddenly relapse like this, it could be dangerous.’

  

It seemed that her recent episode the other night happened because she had been rationing her medicine. 

 

Since then, she had been too afraid to continue taking half-doses and decided to return to the full amount. 

 

But seeing how quickly her supply was dwindling, she had been growing anxious—so when Lord Jacques Pierrot appeared and offered help, it was like a ray of light to her.  

 

When he readily introduced her to a herbal shop and promised to help her obtain what she urgently needed, she sighed in relief and thanked him repeatedly.