The Male Lead’s Sickly Aide is My Type - Chapter 97.1
Chapter 97.1
The man’s words proved true. Not long after taking the medicine, the pain began to slowly recede.
Archen pushed himself up against the wall, catching his breath.
While the pain had subsided, the dizziness lingered, as did the pervasive fatigue. Even though he longed to sleep, the thought of Carinne waiting for him forced his heavy eyelids open. It took a moment for his blurred vision to clear, and during that time, the enigmatic man stood silently.
Just as Archen’s sight fully returned, the man spoke.
“It’s a pill compounded from various herbs. I don’t know which ones, so I can’t tell you.”
The man had precisely addressed the question he intended to ask, prompting a swift resignation. He could have inquired about the source of the medicine, but he refrained. Even if he obtained more, the effects wouldn’t last.
It was a pragmatic assessment.
“You saved my life. Thank you.”
Archen bowed his head in gratitude and made to leave quickly. He was worried about Carinne and uneasy about conversing further with this stranger.
The man’s face was entirely concealed by a mask, his voice magically altered. The lack of introductions suggested a concealed name as well. He was a suspicious character he had little desire to associate with.
However, the man’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
“You’re a mage, aren’t you?”
“….”
“And you don’t have much time left.”
Archen took a step back, wary. A white light flickered in the hand he held behind his back, ready to cast a spell if necessary.
The man chuckled at his rigid posture.
“Ah, I can see a person’s mana core. Yours is the largest I’ve ever seen, but the amount leaking out is also considerable.”
Within the dim garden, a crimson light gleamed from behind the eyeholes of the man’s mask—an inhumanly sharp glint.
It sparked a memory of something Archen had once read about crimson eyes.
Legend spoke of individuals blessed by the heavens, one in ten million, who possessed abilities activated at will, their eyes flashing blood-red upon use. He had dismissed it as a fanciful tale, but perhaps it was true.
He lowered his hand, dispelling the nascent magic.
If his guess was correct, this man possessed the gift of perceiving mana cores. Why he had used his ability on him and why he was so openly revealing it remained a mystery. Nonetheless, if the man’s words were true, there was one question he needed answered.
“Then can you tell me… how much time?”
“A year and a half at most. But the time you’ll be able to move around like this… a few months, perhaps.”
“I see.”
‘…A few months left.’
He’d suspected as much.
The increasingly frequent bouts of pain indicated the disease was nearing its final stages. In the end stages of mana overload syndrome, once more than half the mana had leaked away, the mana core would begin consuming the body’s organs to replenish itself.
The result was a slow, agonizing internal combustion.
Initially, painkillers could manage the suffering, but as organs failed, the medicine would lose its effectiveness. From then on, the pain would be raw and unbearable. The intermittent agony would become chronic, an inescapable torment until death.
That was why, traditionally, those afflicted with mana overload syndrome were mercifully killed at birth. They would only live five or six years at best, and the suffering was too great for a young child to endure.
But abandoned at an orphanage as a newborn, how could he have known about his rare condition?
He was a unique case.
His immense mana reserves had masked the symptoms until he was past twenty. By the time he’d realized, he only had a few years left.
Those years were likely further diminished by the less potent medicines he’d been taking. Effective, non-toxic treatments were exorbitantly expensive and far beyond his reach. His cheaper alternatives were readily available, but their harshness had likely accelerated the damage to his organs.
Archen fingered the medicine bottle in his hand before tucking it into his coat pocket. He wouldn’t need to carry it around much longer.
The man’s voice continued, melodious and bright.
“It’s time to start putting your affairs in order. If I were you, I’d spend my remaining time freely, doing whatever I want.”
It sounded like an attempt at comfort, but it lacked sincerity. Archen responded without looking at the man.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I have someone I love. I can’t leave her alone.”
Leaving Carinne was unthinkable. Some might advise a clean break, a sudden departure to lessen the pain, but he couldn’t bear to hurt her or to cause her even the slightest sorrow. The problem was, even if he stayed, she wouldn’t be happy.
Whether he left or remained, she would be hurt.
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