Chapter 137: Things Men Choose to Remember

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Things Men Choose to Remember

Wulfric paused to let Elysia finish writing before continuing.

She listened with complete concentration, carefully recording every instruction he gave her.

By the time he reached the final point, several lines of neat handwriting filled the sheet.

Wulfric glanced down at her notes.

The handwriting was elegant and graceful, each character formed with remarkable precision.

Cassiel really had chosen well.

He finished explaining the regimen, and Elysia set down her quill.

The room had grown warm while she worked.

A fine sheen of perspiration had appeared along her forehead, yet she seemed not to have noticed.

She lowered her eyes to review what she had written.

Then, almost unconsciously, her hand drifted towards her knee.

The pain had become considerably worse.

Wulfric noticed the movement.

"Your Grace."

Elysia looked up.

"Do you have an old injury to your legs?"

Her expression changed slightly.

"You could tell?"

Wulfric shook his head.

"No."

Elysia blinked.

"Then...?"

"Some time ago, I received a letter from His Grace."

Wulfric leaned back slightly.

"He urged me to return to Caelvyr ahead of schedule, saying there was an important matter that required my attention."

Elysia listened quietly.

"When I arrived and spoke to him today, I discovered what that matter was."

His gaze settled briefly on her knees.

"He wanted me to treat your injuries."

Elysia went completely still.

So that was why.

In her previous life, Wulfric had not returned to Caelvyr at this time.

Cassiel had remained unconscious, and Wulfric had only come back much later.

This time, however, Cassiel had remembered her injury.

Not because he had awakened earlier.

Not because anyone had reminded him.

He had simply remembered.

He had even gone so far as to summon a renowned physician from outside the capital specifically for her.

Something warm spread through Elysia’s chest.

Wulfric seemed not to notice her thoughts.

"Don’t worry."

His tone was unusually reassuring.

"I have already promised His Grace. I’ll do everything I can to cure your legs."

Wulfric paused, then added,

"Now, allow me to examine them properly."

Elysia nodded.

Wulfric placed a folded cloth over her wrist before taking it gently in his hand. Through the fabric, he felt for her pulse, his expression growing thoughtful as he counted the beats.

"Is the pain primarily concentrated in your knees?"

"Yes."

"Is the left worse?"

Elysia nodded.

"And does it become more severe when the weather changes?"

"Especially when it rains."

Wulfric hummed quietly in acknowledgement.

He then opened his medical case and took out a small, rounded instrument. He used it to tap carefully along different points around her knees and the areas where the fractures had once been.

He compared her reactions before asking her to bend and straighten her knees as far as she comfortably could.

After a few more taps and movements, he set the instrument aside.

"I see."

Elysia watched him expectantly.

Wulfric closed his case.

"The fractures have healed, but the way they healed has left lasting damage. That is what is causing the pain."

Her heart sank slightly.

"Can it really be cured?"

Wulfric looked at her with quiet confidence.

"Yes."

He paused.

"I cannot promise it will happen quickly, but I can promise that I will cure you completely."

Elysia stared at him.

"Completely?"

"Yes."

For the first time since the examination began, Wulfric smiled faintly.

"With proper treatment and patience, you will not have to spend the rest of your life enduring this pain."

Relief softened Elysia’s features.

"Thank you, Doctor Grey."

Wulfric rose from his seat.

Elysia immediately moved to stand as well, but he stopped her with a gesture.

"Stay seated."

He glanced towards the rain-lashed windows.

"Your knees are already hurting. There is no reason to make them worse by standing unnecessarily in this weather. You should remember to rest more when the weather changes."

Elysia obediently sat back down.

"Thank you, Doctor Grey."

She called for Clara to escort him instead.

Wulfric gathered his medical instruments and left the room.

Clara followed him out, closing the door behind them.

Once he was alone in the corridor, Wulfric’s expression slowly changed.

His thoughts returned to the two people he had examined that day.

Cassiel’s legs.

Elysia’s knees.

The injuries were completely different, yet there was something strangely similar about them.

Both had suffered physical damage that would require considerable time and patience to heal. Both had endured pain for far longer than they should have.

But the more Wulfric thought about it, the more he felt that their legs were perhaps the least complicated part of either problem.

Both seemed to have wounds far deeper than anything a physician could find with a pulse, a medical instrument, or years of experience.

Wulfric sighed.

He shook his head and continued down the corridor.

Once Wulfric had left, Elysia lowered herself back into her chair.

Her gaze fell upon her knees.

The pain remained.

If anything, the steadily intensifying rain seemed to make it worse.

Yet her mind was occupied by something else entirely.

She could not remember ever complaining to Cassiel about her knees.

Not once.

She had never told him how badly they hurt when the weather changed. She had never asked him for medicine or mentioned how difficult it could be to endure the ache.

So how had he known?

And why had he remembered?

He had been concerned enough to summon Wulfric all the way back to Caelvyr simply to treat her.

Elysia’s fingers curled gently against her skirt.

It seemed...

He truly did care for her.

Rain had settled over the palace.

Beyond the tall windows, the gardens had disappeared beneath a curtain of grey. Water streamed down the glass, while the steady patter against the roof filled the room with a quiet, monotonous rhythm.

Donovan and Vaelen sat opposite one another with a chessboard between them.

Donovan held one of his pieces between his fingers.

He stared at the board.

His brows drew together as he considered his next move.

Across from him, Vaelen’s patience was wearing thin.

He tapped his fingers against the table.

"Are you planning to move that piece today?"

Donovan glared at him.

"Give me a moment."

"You’ve had several."

Donovan studied the board for a little longer.

Finally, with the air of a man accepting an unavoidable defeat, he placed the piece down.

"I concede."

He immediately abandoned the game, leaning back and pulling a cushion into his arms.

His attention drifted towards the window.

"The rain’s getting heavier."

The downpour had indeed intensified.

Donovan watched the water cascading from the eaves for a while before a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"I wonder if Elys—"

The unfinished name caught in the air.

Across the table, Vaelen’s expression changed at once.

His brows pulled together.

Donovan noticed.

He quickly corrected himself.

"I wonder if Aunt Elysia’s knees still hurt."

Vaelen’s jaw tightened.

"What does her pain have to do with you?"

Donovan blinked.

He considered the question seriously.

"Because we were friends."

He hugged the cushion a little tighter.

"It’s normal for friends to care about each other."

Vaelen gave a cold snort.

"And?"

Donovan looked at him.

There was something almost reproachful in his expression.

"Vaelen, her knee pain may have nothing to do with me, but it certainly has something to do with you."

Vaelen’s eyes narrowed.

"You should visit her more often. Or at least send her something as a gesture."

Donovan paused.

"After all, she was injured while saving you."

The words had barely left his mouth when Vaelen’s temper exploded.

His arm swept across the table.

The chessboard crashed to the floor, pieces scattering across the carpet.

Donovan flinched and instinctively shrank back.

"Saving me?"

Vaelen’s voice was low and furious.

"I never asked her to do it."

His hands clenched.

"Did I force her? Did I beg her to throw herself in front of me?"

Donovan remained silent.

He did not agree.

But looking at Vaelen’s expression, he had no desire to argue.

Vaelen’s anger had not subsided.

"Besides," he continued coldly, "if she hadn’t pestered me and begged me to leave the palace that day, we would never have encountered that situation."

His eyes darkened.

"She wouldn’t have stepped in between and injured herself."

He gave a bitter laugh.

"In the end, she brought it upon herself."

His voice hardened.

"It wasn’t my fault."

Donovan lowered his eyes.

Vaelen continued, "And you want me to visit her?"

A mocking smile appeared on his lips.

"She’s too busy trying to seduce Uncle Cassiel every day."

His expression twisted with disdain.

"If I went there, I’d probably see something unsightly."

Donovan hesitated.

He wanted to point out the obvious.

Elysia had married Cassiel.

They were husband and wife.

Whatever affection they showed one another was perfectly natural between a married couple.

How could that be called seduction?

And how exactly was it unsightly?

The more Donovan thought about it, the more he suspected that Vaelen’s reaction had little to do with morality.

It sounded suspiciously like jealousy.

But Donovan had enough sense not to say that aloud.

The room fell silent.

A servant entered with his head lowered and immediately began gathering the scattered chess pieces.

Another servant followed shortly afterwards.

"Your Highness."

Vaelen glanced towards him.

"Her Majesty the Queen has summoned Lady Deborah to the palace tomorrow."

The servant lowered his head further.

"It is said that she intends to select a date for the wedding."

Vaelen’s expression darkened.

He was already irritated from the conversation about Elysia.

Now the prospect of discussing his marriage to Deborah made his mood considerably worse.

"Fine."

His answer was clipped.

"I understand."

The servant bowed and withdrew.

Donovan waited until the door had closed before speaking.

"Vaelen..."

Vaelen looked at him.

"Are you really going to marry Lady Deborah?"

"Why?"

His tone was sharp.

"Shouldn’t I?"

Donovan shook his head.

"It’s not that."

He hesitated.

"I just... worry you might regret it later."

Vaelen’s gaze drifted towards the chessboard scattered across the floor.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he recalled his mother’s words.

"Mother says Deborah is suitable for me."

His voice was calmer now.

"She’s sensible and obedient."

His eyes settled on one of the fallen chess pieces.

"More importantly, she is Alhena. A woman of considerable talent. She’ll make a good Crown Princess."

Donovan looked at him.