When Beauty Destroys The BL World

Chapter 109~Unwavering Fretfulness~

As the days quietly folded into nights, Lucas and Libby found themselves trapped in a weary rhythm.

A rhythm defined by silence, dim candlelight, and the soft echo of footsteps that came in the night.

Each night, Irene would rise from her bed - her eyes open, yet empty. She wandered through the chambers like a fragile ghost, her bare feet brushing against the cold marble floors. There was no recognition in her gaze, no flicker of awareness.

Libby often followed behind her, clutching a shawl to wrap around Irene's shoulders, whispering softly though she knew there would be no reply.

"My lady, here wear this. You'll catch a chill."

But Irene never answered. She only stared ahead - the same hollow, distant stare she held even in daylight.

Lucas and Libby took turns watching over her at night. One would stay awake while the other rested, ensuring Irene was never left alone during her wandering hours. The sound of her slow steps, the occasional rustle of her nightgown, became a haunting lullaby in the night.

Lucas had tried to speak to her countless times. But every attempt met the same silence. Only her steady breathing proved she was still among the living.

Despite their exhaustion, both refused to give up. Lucas especially - his gaze, though tired, never wavered from her.

When he finally reported her condition to the royal physician, the old man's frowned.

"If she continues to be in that state," the physician murmured, worry etching lines deeper into his face, "her strength will fail. The body cannot survive long without proper sleep."

He then hesitated before suggesting,

"Though I don't highly recommended this. There is a sleep draught - a strong one. It will force her body into deep rest, though it acts much like a sedative."

Lucas fell silent. The thought of forcing Irene into such an unnatural sleep made his chest tighten.

He and the physician finally decided to met the Queen to deliver the report.

The Queen listened in grave silence, her hands tightening. When the physician explained the situation and the necessity of the sleeping draught, her expression trembled with quiet sorrow.

"If it is to preserve her health," the Queen said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, "then do what must be done."

Lucas bowed deeply.

"As Your Majesty commands."

"What of the ceremony tomorrow? Has everything been prepared?"

Lucas bowed his head respectfully.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The preparations are complete. I will personally lead the ceremony."

The Queen's gaze fell to the floor for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly against the armrest of her chair. The faint shimmer of lamplight reflected in her eyes - the weight of years and grief making her look older than her age.

"Good," she murmured, then raised her head. "Let the Crown Princess attended too."

Lucas paused. "But Your Majesty-"

"She must attend," the Queen said with quiet insistence. "If we are to seek the Goddess's blessing, the Crown Princess must also receive grace."

For a brief moment, Lucas said nothing.

The thought of Irene, frail, unresponsive, barely aware of the world - being brought before the temple's altar filled him with unease.

But the Queen's expression left no room for argument.