Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 8.1

Having been unconscious for so long, moving around was no easy task. Callisto stayed close, supporting my waist and practically carrying me as I struggled to move. My limbs felt completely drained of strength.

After only a few shaky steps, cold sweat began to bead on my forehead. Each time, Callisto’s gentle hands were there to wipe it away. The fresh, comforting scent of him surrounded me, unexpectedly soothing. Despite my unsteady movements, I found myself smiling as I leaned my cheek against his shoulder.

“Feels like I’m learning how to walk again,” I murmured. “I must’ve been lying down for quite a while.”

Callisto didn’t respond, simply shrugging his shoulders. Over the past few days, no matter what I said, his replies were brief or nonexistent, as though he couldn’t manage to speak without his voice breaking. Just the other day, when I teased him about how long I’d been out, he finally gave me a hesitant answer.

“Three months.”

That single word was followed by silent tears streaming down his face. Alarmed, I instinctively pulled him into a hug, and he didn’t resist, letting his broad shoulders fold into my embrace. My father, arriving just in time to check on me, had taken in the scene with a disapproving cluck of his tongue.

“Etienne, why are you making Callisto cry again?”

“…It wasn’t me.”

But thinking about it later, I realized it was my fault.

“Brother, that’s enough. You’ve walked enough for now—you’ll tire yourself out. Just lie down.”

Despite leaning on him heavily for support, I had managed to walk around the room for quite some time. But as I nodded, ready to head back to the bed, my legs suddenly gave way, and I stumbled.

I’m going to fall.

That thought crossed my mind briefly before I found myself swept off my feet, cradled in Callisto’s arms. Supporting my back and legs with practiced ease, he looked down at me with a solemn expression and said, “This isn’t working. You need to rest more.”

“I can’t just stay in bed forever,” I protested. “I need to walk more to regain my strength.”

“There’s no rush. Take it slow. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

“…Alright.”

But deep down, I knew that things weren’t so simple. I couldn’t afford to rest endlessly. Callisto surely had responsibilities and couldn’t remain by my side forever, either.

I glanced at Callisto’s sharp profile and let out a soft sigh. The toll of the past few months was evident on his face. He had lost a considerable amount of weight; his sharp jawline had grown even more pronounced. It was clear that while I had been teetering on the edge, he had been enduring both emotional and physical hardship. His pallor said it all.

Three months of worry and strain—along with whatever else he had gone through—had left their mark on him. But no matter how often I asked, Callisto stubbornly avoided discussing what he had endured during that time. Eventually, my frustration boiled over, and I blurted out, “Calli, what exactly happened? If you won’t tell me how you’re doing, at least explain the situation.”

Callisto hesitated for a long time, and only after I repeatedly pressed him did he finally speak. I held his hand tightly, threading my fingers through his, waiting.

His explanation was shockingly brief.

“There was poison in the stew you ate—it was meant for me. Beth and Ivry said that Echinacea from the northern continent could cure it. Lawrence and I went to the North Sea to retrieve it.”

“I see… But Calli, could you give me more details?”

“That’s all there is to it. What else do you want to know?”

“…”

There were so many questions left unanswered. How had he managed to return from the northern continent within three months, an almost impossible feat? Where was Lawrence, who had supposedly accompanied him? Surely, he hadn’t left him stranded in the North Sea? But Callisto’s only concern seemed to be my recovery. He showed no intention of elaborating further.

Fortunately, I recovered quickly. Within a month, I was able to move around unaided. Callisto, who had looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment, gradually regained his composure.

Meanwhile, preparations for the impending war continued steadily.

Messengers from the Gilloss siblings stationed at Blast Harbor visited the Wynyates estate several times, delivering updates. Reports of dozens of newly built warships nearing completion under Bryne’s direction reached us. Each time, Callisto listened intently. Finally, when the fifth messenger brought news that both the Second Prince’s forces and the Wynyates soldiers had gathered at Blast Harbor, Callisto nodded.

“We’ll move to Blast Harbor tomorrow. Inform Gilloss to prepare for deployment.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The messenger saluted and departed.

The next morning, the estate was bustling with activity. It wasn’t just Callisto who was leaving; my father, the remaining servants, and I were all part of a large convoy heading out together. Since I wasn’t yet strong enough to ride, I traveled in a carriage with my father while Callisto rode his black horse beside us, keeping close to the Wynyates carriage. The journey to Blast Harbor was expected to take about ten days.

Through the carriage window, the capital looked starkly different. Tension hung in the air like a thick fog. The streets were deserted, with dry leaves scattering aimlessly in the wind, lending an eerie atmosphere.

The once-bustling noble district was abandoned. Most of the aristocracy, whose families had established residences in the capital, had long since fled to their territories. As one of the few families still remaining, the Wynyates had been particularly vulnerable. It was a relief to finally be leaving.

The imperial palace loomed in the distance, growing smaller with every mile we traveled. The Emperor and Empress were reportedly still within, though Roen had left for Gunther Harbor some time ago.

I wondered if Roen had taken Beth with him. I hadn’t heard any news about Lilibet since her tearful pleas to leave the First Prince’s palace. The memory of her wide, pleading eyes weighed on me. I wished I could ensure her safety, but as the First Prince’s consort, her escape seemed almost impossible.

At least, that’s what I thought—until we arrived at Blast Harbor.

“Calli.”

“Yes, brother?” Callisto responded with exaggerated politeness, clasping his hands as if in apology. His attempt to win me over with charm only deepened the collective grimaces of everyone around us.

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