Second Life, I’m Dying Soon Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The next morning, upon waking up, Cecil experienced firsthand what true hell felt like.

A dreadful hangover had hit him.

His head throbbed as if someone were striking it with an axe, and his stomach churned like he was suffering from seasickness. Even staying still brought waves of nausea, making it clear that he was in terrible shape.

“Ugh… Leo. Help me.”

Too weak to even pull the bell rope, he could only let out a faint groan. Yet, as if sensing his master’s plight, his ever-loyal chamberlain promptly entered the room.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming! Goodness, the stench of alcohol…”

Leo flung the windows wide open to let fresh air in, then approached the bed, stacking several plush cushions.

He carefully propped up the nearly lifeless Cecil, positioning him comfortably against the cushion fortress he had created.

Next, he soaked a cloth in cold lemon water, wrung it out, and began wiping Cecil’s face clean.

By the time the oil-slicked skin—left unwashed from the night before—regained its original freshness, Leo set aside the cloth and prepared a cup of honey tea. As he gently stirred it with a silver spoon, the golden honey pooled at the bottom began to dissolve and swirl.

To Cecil, who was watching this scene with half-lidded eyes, Leo appeared to be radiating a divine glow. At this moment, the man was nothing short of a god.

“Drink this down first.”

Cecil gulped the tea desperately.

His throat had been so dry it felt like cracked earth in a drought. He emptied the cup in one go, only to be overcome with nausea once more, causing Leo to click his tongue in silent disapproval.

“…How did I get back last night? Did you take care of me?”

“Hm? You don’t remember?”

“Not at all.”

The last thing Cecil recalled was talking with Tristan. He must have blacked out from excessive drinking—a rare occurrence for him. While it was fortunate that he had returned to the palace safely, a sense of unease gnawed at him.

“His Highness the Crown Prince brought you back.”

“…What?”

Cecil paled, then gagged again.

If this kept up, he’d end up vomiting the honey tea he had just drunk, so Leo quickly pressed his shoulders back against the cushions. Though Cecil obediently lay down, his expression remained one of sheer disbelief.

“His Highness? He carried me? Why? How?”

“I have no idea. You insisted that I not follow you, remember? From what I heard, he visited Count Alfonso’s social club with Commander Vandell. Apparently, the entire house was thrown into an uproar. But of all times, you had to be completely intoxicated, barely able to stand… So His Highness hoisted you over his shoulder and brought you back. It was quite the spectacle.”

Leo shook his head, remembering the moment he had witnessed yesterday.

Cecil’s lips parted wordlessly, his face even paler than before.

“…Did I do anything? Cause a scene or anything? Please tell me I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t know. The two of you traveled back in the carriage alone. His Highness didn’t mention anything.”

Even after hearing this, Cecil couldn’t relax. The gaps in his memory had never felt this frustrating.

“Damn it.”

He rubbed his swollen face, the uneasy feeling growing stronger. He had a bad feeling he’d made a mess of things.

 

***

 

A breakfast meeting was scheduled for that morning.

It was a gathering with the emperor, making it an occasion no one could miss without a compelling reason.

Despite his terrible condition, Cecil managed to scrub away the traces of his hangover and attend.

Though he appeared well-groomed on the surface, his ghostly pale complexion betrayed his unsteady state.

The dining table, draped in a pearl-colored cloth, was adorned with silverware, crystal glasses, and elegant candelabras, adding to the grandeur of the setting. Each dish had been meticulously prepared to suit the individual tastes of the attendees, looking nothing short of delicious.

Cecil picked up his fork and knife, making an effort to eat.

The perfectly roasted chicken crackled as its crispy skin was sliced through, releasing streams of rich juices.

It was a dish that could make anyone’s mouth water, yet Cecil only stared blankly as he mechanically cut the meat into small pieces. It was the worst possible meal for a hangover.

Still, since he was in front of the Emperor, he had to at least pretend to eat. Forcing the food into his mouth and swallowing with difficulty, he listened to the warm conversation flowing around the dining table.

“You look particularly tired today, Alexis. I heard you’ve been busy with your duties lately, leaving you little time to rest… I sincerely worry that you’ll ruin your health. If your workload ever becomes too much, please don’t hesitate to say so.”

“Hearing Her Majesty’s concern only makes me more determined to work harder in return. Fortunately, I am managing well. Compared to my time in the Black Forest, life now is much more peaceful.”

As always, Elizabeth and Alexis concealed their true thoughts beneath their conversation. Their words were laced with kindness and courtesy, yet sharp claws gleamed beneath the surface.

Cecil remained silent, focusing only on his plate. The mere presence of Alexis beside him was driving him mad. He couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances in his direction.

The man who had taken care of his drunken self last night now sat there with the same indifferent expression as always, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Have you two gotten closer yet?”

The Emperor’s deep voice interrupted their meal. Both Alexis and Cecil lowered their cutlery at the same time.

Alexis turned his cold gaze sideways, briefly scanning Cecil’s rigid profile before looking away.

“We are in the process of becoming close.”

“That is good to hear. Seeing you two together now, all grown up, fills me with pride.”

The Emperor took a sip of his wine, his gaze warm as he looked at his sons.

“In the future, you two will lead the Empire together. The stronger your bond as brothers, the greater benefit it will bring to the Empire. Don’t you agree, Empress?”

“…Yes, of course. His Majesty is absolutely right.”

The Empress answered with a reluctant smile. Though her lips curved gracefully, her gaze was piercing—sharp as a honed blade, aimed directly at her pale-faced son.

Once breakfast ended, Cecil was immediately dragged off to the chapel. The priests who should have been guarding the sacred space were nowhere to be seen. Only the Empress and her attendants remained, securing the windows tightly. It seemed she was planning to unleash a lengthy sermon.

“As expected, you still haven’t come to your senses! What is wrong with you?!”

A sharp rebuke pierced the air.

“First, you waste your time learning swordsmanship, something completely beyond your station! Then, you neglect your studies! And now I hear you’ve been frequenting social clubs? You’re single-handedly tarnishing the Imperial family’s reputation!”

“Yes.”

“Don’t answer me!”

The Empress shrieked, her voice shrill with rage. Cecil sighed and shut his mouth. He was better off staying silent.

Naturally, he clasped his hands behind his back and lowered his gaze to the floor. As expected, a torrent of scathing words followed.

“His Majesty personally gave you a chance, yet you were foolish enough to waste it! What exactly are you doing in Alexis’s office? Do you think His Majesty sent you there just to idle away your time? You useless thing!”

“……”

“The food you eat is a waste! I can’t even stand the sight of you!”

Cecil rubbed his forehead, more troubled by his hangover than her insults. He almost wished she’d just hit him like last time and be done with it.

But the Empress’s fury did not subside so easily.

Had he knelt and begged for forgiveness, or at least shown some fear, she might have relented. Instead, it was clear he wasn’t even listening.

Her son, who once obeyed her every word, had changed beyond recognition.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, the Empress abruptly turned her head.

“Steward!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Lock Cecil in the confession chamber. Ensure that he does not take a single step outside, and do not give him so much as a drop of water until I say so!”

The confession chamber was barely big enough for one person to sit inside. There was no space to lie down, no sunlight, only a single, uncomfortable wooden chair. It was as stifling as a coffin, as suffocating as a prison cell.

The steward immediately obeyed. At his signal, several large attendants seized Cecil by the arms and led him toward the depths of the chapel.

Despite being dragged away, Cecil did not resist. Resignation was evident in his posture, and the process remained quiet and orderly.

As the attendants moved swiftly to carry out their task, the Empress gathered her skirts and strode away, her remaining attendants hurrying after her.

Just then, the heavy doors—locked tightly moments ago—swung open. Standing in the doorway was the Crown Prince.

The Empress flinched, while the attendants recoiled in alarm.

Unlike the others, Alexis remained impassive. Arms crossed, he swept his gaze over the chapel, noting the aftermath of the commotion. In the distance, he saw Cecil, weakened to the point that he nearly collapsed, forcing the attendants to support him.

His gaze lingered on Cecil for a long moment before shifting back to the Empress. His voice was low and sharp.

“What is going on here?”

“This is none of your concern. It is a matter between me and Cecil.”

“Since when do family matters have boundaries?”

His tone was deceptively casual, but it was clear who his words were directed at. With a slight tilt of his head, Alexis continued.

“Cecil is an adult now. Don’t you think he’s past the age for discipline?”

“This isn’t discipline—it’s prayer. Cecil must atone before the gods. His behavior as of late has been disgraceful.”

“Since when does locking someone in a confession chamber count as prayer? Did I miss a new rule while I was away?”