Chapter 241: Heavy Awakening The Next Morning

The following morning, Ulrich woke slowly.

His crimson eyes opened to pale daylight filtering through the curtains.

For several moments, he remained still.

His body felt heavy.

Not weak in the same way as before, but sore from head to toe, as though he had slept for an entire day and somehow woken more tired because of it. The physicians' medicine still lingered in his system, leaving a faint numbness in his limbs and a dull pressure behind his eyes.

Pain remained.

His ribs hurt when he breathed too deeply. His chest ached beneath the bandages. The wound where his left arm had been sent a constant, distant pulse through his body but that was not what caught his attention.

His thoughts began to clear.

And with them came the memories of the previous night.

Airam lying beside him.

Airam staring at him with those calm, dark eyes.

Airam refusing to leave.

Then the faint threads of mana around her fingers.

Ulrich's expression darkened.

She had used a sleep spell on him.

Ulrich turned his head sharply toward the other side of the bed.

Airam was gone.

The blankets beside him were empty, though slightly disturbed where she had lain. The room was bright now. It was still early, but morning had already arrived.

She must have left before he woke.

Ulrich stared at the empty space for a moment.

So she had put him to sleep before he could do the same to her.

He almost understood, in that moment, how Airam must have felt every time he forcefully used magic to make her rest.

The spell had not harmed him.

He had slept well.

Better than he had expected to sleep after everything his body had endured.

Still, there was something disagreeable about waking after someone had decided, without asking, that he should be unconscious.

Ulrich's eyes narrowed slightly.

It did not last.

Airam had not been trying to harm him.

She had only wanted to sleep beside him.

It was an innocent wish.

Perhaps a strange one but innocent.

Ulrich pushed the blankets away and carefully sat up.

The movement made the room sway.

A brief wave of dizziness passed through him, but he remained still until it faded. Then he stood, one hand braced against the bedpost.

His body complained immediately.

Ulrich ignored it.

He crossed the room toward the door, reached for the handle, and opened it.

Monika stood on the other side, with her fist raised. She had been about to knock.

"M-My lord," Monika stammered.

Ulrich looked at her.

She had not been present when he returned the previous night, as she had been in New Ruben with Fabian, coming back just this morning, waiting anxiously to see Ulrich well.

Monika's gaze lowered.

It moved from his pale face to the bandages around his chest.

Then to the empty left sleeve.

Her eyes widened.

She had heard what happened.

But hearing that the Count Rubenhart had lost his arm was different from standing before him and seeing the absence with her own eyes.

"M—My lord," she whispered again.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth as she teared up.

"H—How did this happen?"

"Monika."

She immediately looked up.

"Y-Yes, my lord?"

"Prepare my bath."

Monika stared at him for half a second.

Then she blinked rapidly.

"R-right away!"

She hurried into the room at once, moving toward the bathing chamber with frantic determination. Ulrich stepped aside to let her pass, then walked out into the corridor.

The Estate had already awakened.

From the upper gallery, he could see servants moving through the main hall below. Some carried breakfast trays. Others swept the floor or arranged flowers in vases. A pair of maids spoke in hushed voices near the stairs.

The moment they noticed Ulrich standing above them, every conversation stopped.

The servants quickly lowered their heads.

Then, as though fearful that he had heard them gossiping, they began working with sudden and exaggerated urgency.

Ulrich watched them in silence.

He was used to people whispering about him.

He had returned from the capital injured, missing an arm, with rumors of a battle at Hiddlestone already spreading through the household. Of course the servants would talk. They would speculate. They would imagine stories worse than the truth.

Ulrich did not care.

His gaze swept through the hall.

He looked for three familiar figures.

Dark hair.

Silver hair.

Blond hair.

But he could not see Airam, Hermione, or Esther anywhere.

A faint unease rose in his chest.

They had not left, had they?

He had spent an exhausting amount of effort speaking to them the night before. He had told them to remain. He had given them every reason he could think of to stay.

If they had still run away after that, Ulrich would be pretty much annoyed and even considering letting them go.

"The young ladies are in the courtyard, my lord."

Ulrich turned.

Fabian stood a short distance away.

"Fabian."

"My apologies, my lord," Fabian said immediately. "I spent the night in New Ruben attending an...urgent matter. The news from Hiddlestone reached the town, and I needed to ensure that the Estate's affairs remained stable while you were away."

"It is fine," Ulrich said.

That had been Fabian's responsibility in the first place.

Ulrich had left him in charge of the household and the county matters while he traveled to the capital. Fabian had done what was necessary.

The old butler looked at him.

Then his gaze fell to Ulrich's missing arm.

"Young master…"

His voice broke.

Ulrich did not need to look closely to know what was happening.

Fabian's eyes had filled with tears.

The old butler brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold himself together.

"I failed the Countess…" Fabian whispered through tears.

Ulrich winced faintly.

Why was everyone behaving as though he had lost the arm forever?

It was inconvenient and painful but it was not as though the arm had disappeared beyond recovery. The physicians had it preserved. There was still a chance it could be reattached.

Ulrich looked at Fabian.

"The physicians left?"

"They remained through the night, my lord," Fabian replied quickly.

He sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief.

"When you are ready, they can resume treatment immediately."

"Later."

Ulrich said.

Then he added, "Have breakfast prepared."

He was hungry.

Far hungrier than he expected.

The serum, the injuries, and the mana recovery had hollowed him out. His body demanded food with an urgency that almost matched the pain.

Fabian bowed.

"Right away, my lord."

He turned to leave.

Then he stopped.

"My lord," Fabian said.

Ulrich looked at him.

Fabian seemed to hesitate.

"There is also something I must inform you of."

Ulrich waited.

Fabian opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

His expression became strangely conflicted.

At last, he shook his head.

"Later," Fabian said quickly. "It can wait until after you have eaten."

Before Ulrich could question him, Fabian hurried down the stairs and disappeared into the busy hall.

Ulrich remained at the railing.

A few minutes later, Monika returned.

"My lord," she said from the doorway, "your bath is ready."

Ulrich gave a brief nod and followed her into the bathing chamber.

Steam drifted through the room.

The large copper tub had been filled with hot water, and the scent of mild soap and medicinal herbs hung in the air. Fresh towels were stacked near the wall. A clean set of clothes had been folded on a nearby chair.

Monika stood uncertainly beside him.

"My lord," she said quietly, "please allow me to help."

Ulrich did not object.

He stood still while Monika carefully removed his shirt.

The task was more difficult than it should have been. Ulrich could no longer pull the garment free with both hands, and every movement dragged against the wounds across his chest and shoulder.

Monika's fingers trembled as she worked.

Then she began loosening the outer bandages, slowly.

She did not pull too hard. She did not touch the deeper wounds without need. But even the smallest movement revealed what the clothes and fresh linens had hidden.

New scars crossed Ulrich's upper body.

Some were still raw around the edges. Some had begun to close beneath the physicians' ointments. Bruises darkened his ribs and shoulder. Cuts marked his chest, arms, and side, each one evidence of the fighting that had happened beyond the Estate.

Monika winced.

She had heard that Ulrich had been injured.

Everyone had.

But no one knew what had truly happened.

Hendrick had kept silent about Valdris, the Valmorian soldiers, the serum, and the sisters' connection to the Imperial family. The official story spreading through the household was simpler: the Count's party had been ambushed on the road. Airam had been captured. Ulrich had gone after her and returned with the young lady alive, though he had lost his arm in the process.

That was enough to make the servants whisper.

Enough to make the knights speak of Ulrich with even greater respect.

And enough to make Monika's admiration for him rise higher than it had ever been.

But standing here now, seeing the truth written across his body, admiration was not what she felt most.

It was worry.

Her eyes lowered to the place where Ulrich's left arm ended near the elbow.

The stump had been cleaned and wrapped by the physicians, but the sight still made her chest tighten. It was impossible to look at it without imagining the pain he must have endured.

Monika swallowed.

Once she had removed the old outer bandages and set them aside, she carefully gathered them into a cloth basket.

"After your bath, I will prepare fresh bandages, my lord," she said.

"The physicians will handle it," Ulrich replied.

Monika lowered her gaze.

"Yes, my lord."

Ulrich walked toward the tub.

Moving without his left arm made even simple tasks irritating. He could manage, but the loss changed his balance. His injured ribs protested when he bent. His shoulder stiffened when he tried to remove the last layers of cloth without assistance.

Monika turned away while he entered the water.

She kept her eyes lowered, giving him what privacy she could.

After a moment, Ulrich entered the bath.

The hot water rose around him.

For the first time that morning, some of the tension left his body. The warmth eased the ache in his muscles and loosened the stiffness in his back, though it could not reach the deeper pain beneath his ribs and wounds.

Monika waited near the door.

Then she spoke again.

"My lord…"

Ulrich glanced at her.

She hesitated.

"Please allow me to help you."

Ulrich stared at her.

Monika stood with her hands clasped before her, trying to look composed. But she was clearly worried that he would refuse. With his injuries, his exhaustion, and the loss of his arm, she knew he would struggle to wash properly without reopening wounds or losing his balance.

After a brief silence, Ulrich gave a small nod.

Monika's cheeks turned faintly pink.

She crossed to the table, picked up a soft cloth and sponge, and added a small amount of soap. Then she rolled back her sleeves and moved behind Ulrich.

Her fingers first worked carefully through his hair.

She wet the crimson strands and washed away what remained of the road dust, smoke, and dried blood. Ulrich sat still, his eyes half-closed as the warm water and the gentle motion eased some of the ache in his head.

Monika tried to focus on the task.

Still, her face grew warmer.

She had helped him with clothing before. She had adjusted his cloak, repaired torn shirts, and assisted after training injuries when he refused to call anyone else.

But this felt different.

Ulrich was injured and vulnerable, and he was allowing her to help.

Well, truthfully, that was just the level of trust Ulrich gave Monika, who, despite being attracted to him, was doing a very good job, obeyed him, and understood him and his needs the best.

Monika finished washing his hair, then carefully rinsed it with warm water.

Afterward, she used the cloth to clean his shoulders and upper arms, avoiding the deeper cuts where the physicians' ointments still needed to remain untouched.

When she reached his chest, Ulrich winced.

The reaction was slight.

So slight that most people would not have noticed.

But Monika noticed.

She immediately pulled her hand back.

"M-my apologies," she said.

Ulrich did not answer.

His face remained composed, but the muscle in his jaw had tightened.

After a moment, he said, "Continue."

Monika nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord."

She resumed with greater care.

She avoided pressing against bruised ribs. She worked around the bandaged wounds and touched only where the water and soap could clean away sweat and dried blood without causing him further pain.

Ten long minutes passed.

By the end, Ulrich's hair had been washed, his shoulders and upper body cleaned, and the worst of the blood and grime removed. The bathwater had cooled slightly, and steam still clouded the room.

Monika stepped back.

"I am finished, my lord," she said.

Ulrich gave a short nod.

Monika set the sponge aside and bowed deeply.

Then, before her embarrassment could grow any worse, she turned and left the bathing chamber to prepare fresh towels and clothes.