I Possessed the Body of a Sickly Princess

Chapter 6: Who Is the Real Demon?

"I know I shouldn’t say this, but..."

"It's fine. Speak."

The doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully, while my lady responded with her usual languid tone.

In that moment, an unfamiliar unease stirred within me.

No. Don’t say it.

I felt an overwhelming urge to clamp my hands over his mouth.

But my lady's composed expression kept me from acting on impulse.

"If my lady is unbothered, I, as her personal maid, cannot afford to lose my composure."

I barely suppressed the tremor in my heart.

The doctor wore a grave expression.

I looked back and forth between him and my lady, a knot of fear tightening in my chest.

And yet, when my gaze settled on her, all my worries felt like baseless illusions.

Was she truly alright?

I clutched the hem of my dress tightly as the doctor stalled, hesitating over his words.

"...It’s a miracle that she is alive."

"Wha—"

"Go on."

Her firm voice cut through my shock.

"A miracle that she is alive?"

Did that mean that she could just as easily be dead?

Was my lady’s body truly in such a terrible state?

But she never showed signs of being gravely ill.

She slept a lot, yes, but aside from that, she never seemed particularly unwell.

"Her body is naturally weak. She cannot properly absorb nutrients."

Her stomach was underdeveloped compared to others.

She was incapable of consuming large amounts of food, and worse, her body couldn’t even absorb what little she ate.

It was a miracle that she was still breathing.

The doctor summarized my lady’s condition in a single, damning sentence.

"T-Then what about the blood she coughed up?!"

"That was due to bronchial inflammation."

"...My God..."

There wasn’t a single part of her body that wasn’t suffering.

Her skin, sensitive to sunlight.

Her vision, deteriorating in bright light.

Her fragile body, bruising at the slightest touch.

Her bones, breaking easily and healing poorly.

Her organs, unable to properly digest or absorb nutrients.

Even her lungs were inflamed, making it painful for her to breathe.

"A-My lady!"

"Calm down, Mana. I’m fine."

"You are not fine!"

Her brows twitched at my raised voice.

The look in my eyes screamed: How could you not tell me?!

She merely shrugged.

Because, to her, it wasn’t important.

In her past life, pain had always been a companion.

A powerful body, vast mana, and a body that rebelled against both.

"If breathing is difficult, then stop breathing."

"If the body doesn’t move, then force it to."

It was simply an inconvenience.

"I never even knew you were in pain..."

"I said it’s fine."

She sighed as if she were dealing with an overreacting child.

I had never met anyone who reacted like this to news of their own suffering.

Aside from her parents in her past life, had anyone ever worried about her?

Back then, people had wanted her dead.

And now, here I was, nearly in tears over her pain.

"Can she be treated?"

"...She was born this way. There is no cure."

"That can’t be..."

I must have looked ridiculous.

Despair, helplessness, frustration—all of it was written plainly on my face.

How could I not react this way?

The reality of her condition crashed down on me like a heavy weight.

Yet, even now, my lady only looked mildly amused.

Inwardly, she reassessed my worth.

I was turning out to be more useful than expected—like a well-invested stock that kept rising in value.

Perhaps, she mused, she should teach me how to handle mana someday.

"It’s fine. My health isn’t a big deal."

"...What could possibly be a bigger problem than your health?"

"Nothing."

There was no problem greater than her weak body.

In other words, if that issue was resolved, then nothing would hold her back.

And she was already working on that solution.

If she drained the mana of everyone in this household, everything would fall into place.

"Here. This is your payment for the check-up."

"This is..."

"A lucky charm of sorts. If you want, you can sell it. You’ll get far more than the cost of my diagnosis."

She slipped the ring from her finger and placed it in the doctor’s hand.

It held a trace of her mana.

At the very least, it would bring good fortune—mostly in terms of wealth.

The doctor hesitated, looking as if he wanted to ask if she was truly alright with this.

She simply nodded.

"Yes, take it."

"In exchange, I now understand exactly what’s wrong with my body."

"That knowledge is worth this price."

"Take care on your way back."

"...T-Thank you, my lady."

The door closed with a soft click, and I watched until he disappeared from sight.

This was nothing.

If anything, it was an investment for the future.

Fools obsessed over wealth, but the wise secured the means to create wealth.

"Mana, could you prepare some tea for me?"

"...Yes, my lady."

I hesitated, but I still answered with a nod.

If my lady said it was fine, then everything was fine.

Even if one day she collapsed and never woke up again, I would not be blamed.

If that happened, it would be my own failure for not seeing the truth sooner—not anyone else’s fault.

***

Gafil was an ordinary town doctor.

He diagnosed illnesses, treated injuries—nothing more, nothing less.

And he loved his simple life.

Exchanging greetings with the florist.

Checking in on the old innkeeper with a limp.

Buying apples from the fruit stand beside his clinic.

Yes, he loved his days exactly as they were.

And that day was supposed to be just like any other.

If not for the voice that called out behind him.

"Doctor Gafil!"

"Oh, Mana! It’s been a while."

He recognized the voice instantly.

She was a maid from the massive estate on the outskirts of town.

Not just any maid—he had known her since childhood.

Or rather, he had known her lineage.

Her grandmother had been a maid.

Her mother, too.

And so, he had always called her young lady, despite her status.

She, in turn, had always called him old man, despite his protests that he wasn’t that old yet.

"I need your help!"

"What’s wrong?"

"My lady—she’s very ill!"

There was only one person she could mean.

And he had heard the rumors.

How could he not?

A girl with hair like decaying wood.

Eyes like blood oozing from a wound.

The demon of the Leonhardt household.

"...Alright, let’s go."

"Thank you!"

But Gafil did not believe those rumors.

He had seen white hair and red eyes once before.

A long time ago, when he was younger.

A child beaten and stoned for looking different.

He had stepped in back then, driven by nothing but his duty as a doctor.

And in return, the child smiled at him.

That smile had taught him a lesson.

Never judge a person by their appearance.

That belief had been etched into his soul ever since.

"My lady, I’ve brought the doctor!"

"You’re quicker than I expected."

The girl before him was frail.

Thin limbs, pale skin nearly devoid of pigment.

There was elegance in her posture, but no life behind her gaze.

Had she not spoken, he might have mistaken her for a lifeless doll.

"Please, take care of her."

"Of course. If you’ll allow me, my lady..."

He examined her.

Dark circles under her eyes.

Unnaturally pale skin.

Limbs limp and frail.

Even without instruments, he could see it plainly.

This was not the state of someone who should be alive.

"...It’s a miracle that you are alive."

As he spoke those words, a terrible weight settled on his chest.

Guilt, nausea, despair.

And worst of all—powerlessness.

He had never felt so helpless before.

Like a hammer had struck him from behind.

He barely remembered leaving the estate.

"To think someone could be so... broken..."

Gafil stared at the ring in his hand.

Who, truly, was the demon?

The girl who gave without hesitation?

Or the household that let her waste away?

As he turned, the shadows of the mansion loomed behind him.

Dark, shifting, alive.

No.

This was no home of noble blood.

It was a nest of demons.

No one with even a shred of humanity could allow this.

If they possessed even the barest trace of a conscience, they would never have let a girl reach such a wretched state.

Her life must have been a form of torture—one where death might have been kinder.

And yet, how did she endure it with such composure?

How much had she forsaken just to survive in that household?

Gafil couldn’t begin to fathom it.

As he descended the hill, his thoughts swirled in an endless storm.

A sharp gust of wind lashed against him, and his body trembled.

"...It’s particularly cold today."

But was it truly the cold that made him shiver?

Only he knew the answer to that question.