Second Life, I’m Dying Soon Chapter 59

Chapter 59

 

“Your Highness, someone has come from Peridot Palace.”

“……”

The chief attendant of Saint Palace spoke cautiously. The study was steeped in silence—there was no chance his words had gone unheard. Yet Alexis offered no reply, conveying his intent through silence as he continued turning pages.

The attendant swallowed. Faced with the Crown Prince’s deliberate indifference, he gathered his courage and spoke again.

“Lord Cecil has not returned since leaving the palace this afternoon.”

“And why tell me? It has nothing to do with me.”

Alexis replied without lifting his gaze from the documents. His expression and tone remained unchanged. There was not a hint of concern. He truly appeared to have no interest whatsoever in Cecil.

Still, sensing the gravity of the situation, the attendant refused to back down.

“The attendants of Peridot Palace are requesting Your Highness’s assistance.”

“Do they take me for someone easy? Just like their master—utterly ill-mannered.”

“They must be desperate to come this far. He left alone, without escort, and it is already this late. If he has not returned by now… something may have happened.”

“…….”

“Your Highness. Please, show Lord Cecil some mercy.”

“Do not speak that name before me.”

The sharp voice cut through the air.

Having served the Crown Prince for many years, the attendant knew Alexis’s temperament well. He dared not press further. He clamped his mouth shut and discreetly withdrew.

Alexis turned his attention back to the paperwork. He had deliberately taken on extra work to drive away stray thoughts, yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not concentrate.

Outside, rain was pouring down in sheets. The relentless tapping against the windows scraped at his nerves.

Trying once more to focus, Alexis read a few lines before abruptly flinging the papers aside and rising to his feet. He strode to the window and drew the curtains shut. The foul weather irritated him beyond endurance.

 

***

 

Cecil’s first runaway adventure was nothing but a series of hardships.

Choosing the bustling central district of the capital as his destination had been fine enough. The trouble began when he encountered bandits along the way.

Last time, he had ridden in a carriage bearing the imperial crest—no one would have dared touch him then.

But this time was different. A young man who looked every bit like a wealthy noble’s son, wandering without a single guard, was an irresistible target.

“If you value your life, hand over everything you have!”

Surrounded by men wielding knives and axes, Cecil raised both hands and surrendered without resistance. He was unarmed—and even if he weren’t, there was no guarantee he could win against them.

They took everything: his horse, the expensive jewels he carried, even the pearl ornaments sewn into his sleeves. They were ruthless to the end—though, by some shred of decency, they left him his clothes and shoes.

“Perhaps the gods haven’t abandoned me entirely.”

Cecil forced himself to think positively. Though stripped of everything and left penniless, he refused to let his pride bend. Turning back was not an option.

By the time he reached the central district on foot, dusk had already fallen. The sky grew overcast, and a fine drizzle began to fall. It showed no sign of stopping—cold wind rose, and the rain soon grew heavier.

“What now…?”

He had come this far, but Cecil had no plan beyond that.

He was terribly tired from the long walk, and the cold crept in as he got soaked by the rain. Cecil, who just wanted to lie down somewhere warm, stopped at an inn located on the bustling street and asked if he could stay the night.

It was futile. Penniless and making such a shameless request, Cecil was promptly turned away. He wandered the streets once more, trying other inns and taverns, but the result was always the same.

The merchants didn’t recognize the person before them as royalty. They likely saw him as a bankrupt noble who had squandered his fortune, or perhaps a vagrant who had picked up some fine clothes somewhere. Even if he had declared himself royalty, they probably wouldn’t have believed him.

After drifting aimlessly, he took shelter beneath the awning of a small fruit stand. Being treated so coldly for the first time in his life left him feeling more bewildered than offended.

Still, having escaped the palace, his spirits felt strangely light. Watching the crowds pass through the square, Cecil tried to ease the tightness in his chest. At the same time, he made a decision.

For the time being, he would not return to the imperial palace.  After all, life only comes once. This time, couldn’t he just do as he pleased?

As he waited under the awning for the rain to ease, the shopkeeper stepped out to check his stall. With so few customers in the rain, the man’s expression was far from cheerful.

The plums in his hands looked irresistibly ripe. Their sweet, tart scent cut through the heavy rain and reached Cecil’s nose. Hungry without realizing it, Cecil swallowed and stared at the fruit in the man’s grasp.

After marking down the remaining produce for clearance, the shopkeeper turned—and met Cecil’s rain-soaked gaze.

He clicked his tongue. Business was bad enough without someone loitering in front of his shop to escape the rain.

Still, Cecil’s refined features and the quality of his clothes made it hard to dismiss him as a beggar, so the shopkeeper didn’t chase him away outright.

“Move aside a bit. You’re blocking the fruit.”

“My apologies.”

Cecil shifted to the side. Water dripping from the edge of the awning soaked his left shoulder, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around himself.

He didn’t take offense at the man’s curt tone. What mattered now was where he would sleep tonight. No matter what, he couldn’t spend the night on the streets.

Should he knock on the door of some wealthy-looking house and ask for help? Would they believe him if he said he was Cecil Adrian?

Alexis could reveal his identity with nothing more than his blond hair—but Cecil had nothing to prove he was royalty.

He would need to find a noble who recognized him. Yet most high-ranking nobles lived on the outskirts of the city, and Cecil no longer had the strength to walk that far. His worries only piled up.

After about an hour, the shopkeeper began closing for the night. He came outside, gathering the remaining fruit and reaching for the awning.

“……”

Cecil looked at him with forlorn eyes, clearly distressed at the thought of losing his only shelter.

Something about that expression tugged at the shopkeeper’s conscience. Clearing his throat, he gave up on pulling the awning down.

“Leave once the rain stops.”

“You’re a generous man. May I ask your name?”

“I’m Odric. But wait, you seem much younger than me, so why are you addressing me so formally? You look like you’re wandering around penniless.”

“Odric, then. I won’t forget this kindness. I will repay you someday.”

Odric shook his head and went back to tidying up, convinced the boy must be mad—clearly someone who believed himself far more important than he truly was.

As night deepened, darkness settled over the square. With the foul weather, foot traffic dwindled to nothing. Shops closed one by one, their lights blinking out.

Cecil remained in front of the fruit stand. Soaked through, the cold gradually seeped into his bones until his teeth chattered even when he stood still.

They said life was hard once you left home—now he truly understood. Cold, sleepy, hungry: the trifecta tested the limits of his endurance.

“…Wow. This is beyond stubbornness.”

He was rubbing his arms to force warmth back into his body when—

A carriage that looked expensive at a glance crossed the square. The loud clatter of horse hooves and wheels echoing across the ground made Cecil lift his head to look at the carriage.

The carriage slowed, then suddenly stopped. It turned and approached the fruit stand. Blinking in confusion, Cecil froze when he recognized the face peering out from the window.

“…Marquis?”

The greasy complexion, the plump figure—it was unmistakably Marquis Valeri, the Minister of Finance.

Leaning out of the window, the marquis squinted, then his eyes flew wide open.

“My goodness! I thought it might be you!”

He flung the carriage door open and stepped out, a servant quickly holding an umbrella over him.

“Why on earth are you here alone, Lord Cecil? Where is your carriage? Your attendants?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you came all this way by yourself?”

The marquis was quick-witted. Anyone could see that a drenched Cecil was not simply out for a casual stroll.

“Ah… well…”

Caught off guard, Cecil stumbled over his words—uncharacteristically so.

How much should he tell him?

Cecil and the marquis were hardly on friendly terms. At a previous council session, Cecil had openly declared his inclinations—exposing one of the marquis’s secrets in the process. Their relationship was, at best, awkward.

Still, meeting him now was undeniably a relief. Carefully, Cecil made his request.

“I’m sorry, but my circumstances are… difficult at the moment. Would you be willing to offer me lodging for just one night?”

The marquis’s expression shifted subtly. His eyes flicked over Cecil’s soaked form, and a practiced smile spread across his face.

“Of course. I would be delighted to host you.”

Soon, Cecil was escorted into the carriage. The rain showed no sign of stopping as the black vehicle, bearing its precious guest, hurried away from the square.