A Transaction of Cures and Desires
The carriage Sylvien had prepared contained a brand-new dress. After changing into it, Canna asked bluntly,
“What do you want?”
“Your services as a healer, Miss Canna.”
Sylvien no longer bothered to beat around the bush. He pulled a small bottle from his coat and held it out. It was filled with the sleep-inducing incense.
“According to the experts, this is a sleeping agent of astonishing potency.”
“I’m not so sure. It didn’t seem to work on you, so I lack confidence.”
“I am a special case. Please consider me an exception.”
Sylvien smiled. Yet his eyes remained frozen cold, so the expression hardly looked like a smile at all.
“Is Miss Lucy Addis in good health?”
“……”
For a moment, Canna was at a loss for words.
Did Sylvien know that she had cured Lucy?
“I have also heard that Her Highness the First Princess’s condition has improved considerably compared to before.”
“……We’ll have to wait and see. I can’t be certain yet.”
“Moreover, it seems even Her Majesty the Empress has become dependent on your medicine.”
This time she was genuinely shocked.
This was a secret known to only a handful of people. How on earth did Sylvien know?
‘Don’t tell me he planted informants?’
What a sneaky bastard.
Still, since he already knew, there was no point in denying it. And at this point, she could guess his intentions.
“Is there someone you want me to cure?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with the Debor Merchant Guild?”
“Of course.”
Count Raspello Debor.
Wasn’t he the legendary figure who first discovered the Eastern Continent? The count had secured exclusive trade rights with the Eastern Continent and, thanks to that, had become one of the wealthiest men on the entire continent in the blink of an eye.
“I was an early investor when the Debor Merchant Guild was first established. Therefore, when problems arise within the guild, I tend to look for solutions.”
He continued in a grave tone.
“Most of the sailors returning from voyages to the Eastern Continent are coming back afflicted with a strange disease.”
“A strange disease?”
“Yes. The pain is so severe they cannot sleep. However, when your sleep-inducing incense was used, they fell asleep immediately and it even aided their recovery, or so I’m told.”
That made sense. Canna nodded.
In this era, there were no proper sleeping medicines.
‘What they call sleeping medicine is either toxic herbs that cloud the mind or outright narcotics. Naturally, they’re bad for the body and do nothing to relieve fatigue.’
But Canna could create a sleep incense without side effects. She had combined kelp and rhodiola, both containing natural sedative properties, then dramatically amplified their efficacy through alchemy.
That was why anyone who succumbed to her incense and later woke up would find their stamina restored and their mind clear.
“You called it a strange disease. What are the symptoms?”
“The physicians say it resembles syphilis.”
Syphilis… that would be a venereal disease.
How was syphilis treated in this era?
Canna recalled the answer and asked quickly.
“Then they must be receiving mercury treatments, correct?”
Mercury. They were surely undergoing that dangerous treatment.
“No.”
But the answer that came back was unexpected.
“Ever since trade with the Eastern Continent began, countless sailors have fallen ill. They have received mercury treatments every single time, yet not one of them has recovered.”
This, too, was surprising.
If it truly was syphilis, mercury treatments should have shown some effect. After all, mercury did possess sterilizing properties, whatever else one might say about it.
‘The problem is that it cures the syphilis only to inflict another disease in its place.’
Sylvien, who had been staring at her intently, asked softly,
“I heard you also advised against using mercury ointment when treating Her Highness Princess Amelia.”
How did he know that, too?
‘This is creepy.’
To even know something like that—Sylvien had definitely planted informants everywhere!
Canna felt a surge of displeasure, but she admitted it honestly.
“That’s right. I am opposed to mercury treatments.”
“And the reason?”
“Did you know that alchemy was my hobby as a child?”
“Of course.”
That answer startled Canna again.
‘What? Why does he know everything? Is there anything he doesn’t know?’
She had assumed he had zero interest in her and therefore wouldn’t know anything.
“While I was back at the family estate, I resumed my old hobby. I tried making a remedy using mercury, but… every rat I experimented on died in a horribly deformed state.”
Canna recited the lie she had prepared in advance.
“The disease I was originally trying to cure did disappear, but in exchange, they contracted another illness. The mortality rate was extremely high, which taught me just how dangerous mercury truly is.”
Sylvien simply gazed at her in silence.
He said nothing, yet she could sense that he was impressed. His rare reaction left Canna feeling terribly awkward.
‘What… why is he impressed?’
Don’t tell me you thought the same thing?
‘Still, it would be difficult for people of this era to doubt mercury treatments.’
If he was nevertheless opposed to them, then it was Canna who should be impressed with Sylvien.
A moment later, Sylvien slowly continued.
“If it were syphilis, mercury treatments should have worked. Since they did not, I have come to believe the sailors are suffering from a different strange disease altogether.”
Canna stroked her chin.
Sailors traveling to and from the Eastern Continent. Syphilis. Ineffective mercury treatments.
‘Somehow… I think I know what it is.’
But since she wasn’t certain, she would keep her mouth shut. Canna asked coyly,
“If I were to treat the sailors, what would I gain?”
“In return, I will grant any request you make.”
It was an extremely tempting offer. Canna’s eyes sparkled.
“You’ll grant any request I make? No matter what it is?”
“Yes.”
“How can you answer so confidently when you don’t even know what I might demand?”
“……”
“What if I ask for something outrageously enormous?”
Sylvien’s lips parted as if to answer immediately, but he seemed to change his mind midway and closed his mouth.
Then, suddenly, he leaned forward.
‘W-what?’
In an instant, the distance between them shrank dramatically.
Canna nearly jerked backward, so she stiffened her spine to hold herself in place.
“Are you perhaps worried, Miss Canna?”
Was he intrigued? Or amused?
His vivid blue eyes stared straight into hers.
The gaze seemed to peer deep inside her, all the way to her very core. Her mouth went dry. Canna swallowed nervously without realizing it.
“Do you harbor a wish that lies beyond even my capabilities?”
His knee brushed lightly against hers. At that faint contact, goosebumps raced up her spine.
“I am very curious what it could be.”
The way Sylvien whispered was arrogantly insolent. She wanted to refute him somehow, but—
“……”
She had no words to throw back at him.
Because he truly could grant anything.
At least within the Aslan Empire, within the Western Continent—no, in this entire world—there was nothing he could not accomplish.
Sylvien seemed satisfied by her silence and leaned back. He relaxed against the seat and smiled languidly.
“Do not worry. Even if your wish is for a wedding night, I will gladly oblige.”
“……I have no need for that.”
“Ah, of course you would say that.”
He clearly didn’t believe her at all.
Irritated, Canna sneered.
“Please refrain from such dreadful remarks, Your Excellency. A wedding night? I have no desire for it, and the mere thought gives me goosebumps.”
“Is that so? I was under the impression you longed for it desperately. It seems I was mistaken.”
“……”
Suddenly, memories of Juhwa flooded in. The memories of Juhwa, who until recently had thrown herself at him naked.
‘That wasn’t me!’
Canna shamelessly shoved the memory aside.
“I want a divorce.”
At those words, Sylvien’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Convince my father, pressure him, do whatever it takes—just make the divorce happen.”
“Of course.”
“……”
His tone suggested he still didn’t believe her. Canna sighed and shook her head.
It would only hurt her throat to insist it was true.
‘Obviously. After everything Juhwa did for seven years.’
When she thought back on what Juhwa had done over the past seven years, it was more strange that he would believe her.
“Let’s write a contract. The condition will be that you will grant me any request I make.”
“Very well.”
With that, their conversation ended.
She turned her head to look out the window. Sylvien picked up a newspaper and began to read.
“……”
She tried to endure, pretending nothing had happened, kept enduring, and then—
‘I can’t take it anymore.’
Canna subtly shifted her knee away from where it had been touching Sylvien’s.
It felt like she had lost some kind of invisible contest, but what could she do? It was uncomfortable.
Yet Sylvien continued turning the pages of his newspaper as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.
‘Did he really not feel it?’
Was he surprisingly insensitive?