Despite Being an Extra, I'm the Villain's Childhood Friend - Chapter 55.2
Chapter 55.2
He traced the delicate lines of her face, gently tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. This angelic child, a miracle who had appeared before someone as unworthy as him.
Perhaps Michael was right.
Perhaps he was just a trapper, clipping the wings of an angel.
“You coward. You could go to the capital with her.”
He could.
If he truly set his mind to it, there was nothing beyond his reach. But… the treatment of Krug patients in the capital weighed heavily on him. The information he’d received from Camry, his informant, had cast a dark shadow over his thoughts.
Patients were either confined to their homes or banished beyond the city walls, forced to live in isolated communities. If he went to Ernon, he’d likely face the same confinement. And Duke Brioche, a man obsessed with appearances, would never allow his son to reside in the capital.
But beyond all that, Robert simply didn’t want to go.
Conflicting emotions flickered in his crimson eyes.
Looking at Izeline’s peaceful, sleeping face only intensified his turmoil. Each breath brought a pang of guilt, followed by a surge of tenderness.
“…Is it true?”
He whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears.
“Am I holding you back?”
The sleeping girl offered no reply.
* * *
The Hidden Path Bookstore, nestled in the bustling city center, stayed lit late into the night, its windows magically darkened to the outside world.
Grosh climbed the dark wood stairs, casting a glance at Gerald, who was hunched over his desk.
The second floor served as their living quarters, but its true purpose was far more specific: Gerald’s laboratory.
Plip. Plop.
Bubbling potions in a rainbow of colors lined the workspace.
Grosh stroked his beard.
Disturbing Gerald’s concentration could trigger one of his legendary tantrums, but he needed sleep. Separate rooms would have solved this issue, but Gerald was both particular and stubborn. His insistence on napping during his research had somehow led to the absurd arrangement of a combined bedroom and laboratory.
Grosh had disagreed, but the loudest voice usually won, and he now deeply regretted indulging his grandson.
“Time for bed.”
He offered the suggestion gently but received no response. Instead, the bubbling sounds intensified, followed by a faint pop. The pink potion, now infused with a dried frog’s heart, reacted to the magical catalyst.
Of all times to add that ingredient.
It was a clear, unspoken warning: Do not disturb.
Still, he was tired.
“If you snore and singe your beard, I’ll blow up this entire lab.”
With his threat issued, he shuffled toward his bed in the corner.
A secret, grandfatherly smile touched his lips as he observed his grandson’s intense focus. But just as he was about to close his eyes, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before, partially obscured by Gerald’s back: thin, thread-like objects lying on the desk.
Throwing back the covers, Grosh approached him.
“Gerald.”
“….”
“Gerald, what are these?”
“Oh, come on!”
Gerald’s concentration shattered, and he scowled. Normally, Grosh would retreat—but this time, he pressed on.
“Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is.”
“Just go to sleep.”
“….”
“Ugh…”
Gerald ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. He looked up at Grosh, who stood firm, and finally relented.
“It’s the person the Duke recommended.”
“….”
“You already knew.”
“Yes. I knew.”
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