Lucas doubled over.

"—gh…!"

His breath hitched. His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside, heat spreading rapidly from joint to joint. His fingers stiffened, trembling, as if they no longer belonged to him.

Liona froze instantly. "Lucas?!"

The plate nearly slipped from her hands. She quickly set it aside and rose from her chair.

Silvara moved faster.

"Lucas," she called sharply, already at the bedside in a single step. "What's happening?"

Lucas swallowed, but his throat felt dry and burning.

"…It hurts," he answered through clenched teeth. "Burn… inside." His breathing was broken. "…I can't breathe."

Every word came out with difficulty.

Silvara's expression changed at once.

Without hesitation, she turned. "Liona, stay here. Don't let him move."

Liona nodded quickly, her face pale. "Y—yes."

Silvara was already leaving. "I'm calling Healer Mae. Now."

The sound of her footsteps faded rapidly down the corridor.

In the room, Lucas gasped for air, cold sweat running down his temples. His body burned—yet at the same time, the chill sank all the way to his bones.

-----

Silvara leapt down from the horse before the animal had fully come to a stop.

"Lady Silvara—?" one of the soldiers turned reflexively.

In front of the emergency shelter, Healer Mae was kneeling, her hands smeared with dried blood. She had just finished tying a bandage around the arm of a local soldier who sat on a wooden bench, panting.

"Press here," Mae ordered curtly. "Don't release it until I come back."

She stood up—and immediately met Silvara's gaze.

"Healer Mae," Silvara said quickly, without preamble. "The Young Master is in pain."

Mae froze.

"…In pain?" Her brows lifted. "What do you mean?"

"His condition is worsening. Heat from within, his joints locking up, breathing difficulty," Silvara replied concisely. .

There were no further questions.

Mae's expression turned serious immediately. She turned and grabbed a small bag from beneath the table—an old leather satchel that was clearly not standard equipment. Her movements were quick, instinctive.

"…This is strange," she muttered as she strode toward Silvara. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours."

Silvara was already holding the reins. "Get on."

Mae mounted the horse without hesitation, one hand gripping the saddle.

The horse bolted.

The night wind slammed into their faces.

On the horse's back, Mae leaned forward, her mind racing.

"Lady Silvara," she said loudly to be heard over the pounding hooves, "did the symptoms appear suddenly?"

"Yes," Silvara answered shortly.

Mae ground her teeth.

…If this is indeed a potion effect, she muttered to herself, the timing makes no sense.

The horse surged faster, racing toward the manor.

-----

The horse came to a sudden stop in front of the manor.

Silvara dismounted immediately and half-dragged Mae inside.

In the bedroom—

Lucas was convulsing on the bed. His body was arched stiffly, his jaw clenched tight, his breathing broken and irregular. Liona was holding him down with both hands, her face pale.

The moment Mae stepped within two paces, she summoned a gauntlet onto her right hand.

One sharp breath.

She raised her right hand. Two fingers formed a V.

The air trembled faintly.

"Liona, step back. Now."

Liona withdrew at once.

Mae tensed.

"…This is insane," she muttered.

In Mae's vision, Lucas's joints—shoulders, elbows, wrists—were pulsing unnaturally, as if compressed mana were detonating from within, slamming into bone and sinew at the same time.

"Lady Silvara, Miss Liona," Mae said quickly. "Hold him."

Mae opened her small bag and took out a tiny vial of potion, clear, almost transparent.

"Hold him firmly. Don't let go."

Silvara and Liona restrained Lucas from the left and right.

Mae raised the vial, then—with a flat expression—dipped her thumb into the potion. With the same hand, her little finger pierced into Lucas's right shoulder.

One point.

Then the left shoulder.

Elbow. Wrist. Knee. Ankle.

Every joint.

Mae's movements were fast, precise, almost without hesitation.

The tremors in Lucas's body gradually subsided.

The convulsions weakened.

His breathing began to return.

Mae set the vial down, then pressed her palm against Lucas's chest.

"Breathe," she ordered quietly.

Lucas jerked—then let out a long exhale.

"…Haaah—"

His body went limp against the bed.

Sweat soaked his face and neck. His eyes were half-open, empty, helpless. His chest rose and fell slowly—relieved, but utterly drained.

Mae withdrew her hand.

Lucas swallowed.

His throat was still dry, but the pain that had struck earlier had receded. His body felt heavy—not in pain, just… spent.

He stared at the ceiling, then drew a slow breath. This time, the air filled his lungs completely.

"…So," his voice was weak, almost a whisper, "what's wrong with me?"

Mae stood at the bedside, the gauntlet still fitted to her hand. Her gaze swept over Lucas's body, sharp and focused.

"Young Master, your body is suffering from the effects of a physical enhancement potion," she replied flatly. "For some reason, it manifested earlier than it should have."

Lucas frowned faintly.

"But this effect seems to have been triggered because Young Master pushed the body too hard in the previous duel," Mae continued. "Excessive joint rotation. Shoulders, elbows, wrists—everything was strained at the same time."

She pressed at a point in the air, as if marking an invisible path.

"Mana flow became congested in the joints. Then the pressure from both shoulders spread."

Mae paused for a moment.

"…To the lungs."

Liona stiffened instinctively.

Lucas fell silent.

Mae went on, her tone still calm but heavy. "If it had crept up to the neck, you would have already been unconscious by the time we arrived."

Silvara narrowed her eyes.

"Fortunately," Mae said quietly, "it didn't go that far."

Mae dismissed her gauntlet.

"There will be no lingering effects," she said firmly. "The Young Master's body will only feel weak for the next few hours. He can still walk, but I do not recommend any strenuous activity."

She closed her small bag, then stood straight and faced Silvara.

"There are still many in the village who require treatment," she continued. "I must return."

Mae bowed neatly. "Please take care of the Young Master." Then she bowed to Lucas. "I'll take my leave, Young Master."

Silvara gave a brief nod. "Thank you, Healer Mae."

Mae turned and left.

The room fell silent once more.

Silvara let out a slow breath. "…That was fortunate."

Liona nodded as well, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Yes… truly."

She turned to Lucas. "In that case, I'll take my leave as well. There are still things that need to be taken care of."

Lucas nodded weakly. "Thank you."

Liona gave a faint smile, then left, closing the door carefully behind her.

Only the two of them remained.

Silence again.

Lucas stared at the ceiling. Damn… this is awkward vibes again, he thought.

And right at that moment—

Krrrk.

His stomach growled softly, but clearly.

The silence immediately felt heavier.

Silvara glanced at him briefly, then walked to the chair beside the bed. She sat down and picked up the plate from the table.

"Don't expect it," she said flatly. "I won't be as gentle as Liona when feeding you."

Several spoonfuls passed in silence.

Silvara fed him with efficient movements. Not rough, but clearly without compromise. Lucas ate obediently—too exhausted to protest.

As the third spoonful was about to reach his mouth—

tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Footsteps sounded from outside.

Silvara turned at once, her upper body shifting slightly as well. The plate and spoon were still in her hands.

Lucas, still sitting back weakly, also turned, a small smear of food on his chin.

The bedroom door stood wide open; Liona seemed forgot to close it.

The footsteps stopped right at the threshold.

Then a voice familiar to Silvara reached her ears.

"Oh my…"

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