Truthfully, the plague had been discovered among the nobility at almost the same time it was discovered among the commoners in the city. Their environments couldn’t have been more different, yet the plague emerged simultaneously in both social classes. However, those who got sick among the nobility were hidden within their family estates.
Even though their condition wasn’t made public, a few families had already reported deaths. Without knowing the full scope of the outbreak among the nobility, there was a good possibility there were many more dead than were reported. The fear that they would be next had started quietly eating away at the nobility. Only a small portion of them could maintain their composure in that atmosphere, especially since they all had experienced this before. They saw the red bruises, heard the wheezing, watched people break down in fevers and coughing fits, and saw the death that it all led to.
They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide...but now they had a person they could blame: this mysterious girl with an unnatural knowledge of medicine. After all, she was a member of that tribe of phantoms, a people renowned for destroying kingdoms that displeased them. Didn’t it make sense that the Red Eye plague was vengeance wrought by their hand?
That had to be it. There was no other explanation.
Those baseless assertions drove the men straight to violence. Small as she was, Misha had no chance in a physical altercation with grown men, and even with Isabella there trying to shield her, the two of them were simply thrown to the ground together.
“Stop it! Lady Misha is an important guest from a foreign country!” Isabella insisted. Even as they fell, Isabella put herself between Misha and the group of men.
Misha, meanwhile, was frozen solid. She was surrounded by eyes of unbridled hatred and voices thick with hostility, all aimed at her. She had never been subjected to such open animosity before. The shock and fear left her speechless.
Above all, the accusation that Lalaya’s condition was her own fault had stunned her. There was no proof of that, but her own knowledge whispered in the back of her head that an infectious disease needed an intermediary to be communicated.
Lalaya always stayed deep in the palace, living a quiet life on her own. Misha, however, walked around the city freely. Whenever she came back and visited Lalaya, she always bathed and changed her clothes before seeing her, but without understanding how the disease spread, she couldn’t confidently say that was enough. It was possible that the very person Misha was responsible for protecting had gotten sick because of her own carelessness.
Her own acceptance of that possibility crushed her more than the accusations of these strangers. She knew that the source and method of transmission of the plague were both unknown. Even so, she had assumed the precautions she took were enough. Tears welled up in her eyes as she was faced with her own foolishness.
The moment something seemed untoward, Tia had run off for help, and so Kino arrived in no time to rescue Misha and Isabella from their assailants. Even so, by the time he arrived, her heart was already broken.
“Was it my fault? Am I the one who did that to her?” Misha sobbed, tears rolling down her face as she sat locked in her room for her own safety. She couldn’t get the image of Lalaya and Anna suffering from painful coughing fits out of her head. That, and the memory of Mary, unconscious and spitting up blood.
Tia watched with concern as Misha, face pale, sat motionless on the sofa. On the table in front of her was a cup of tea, unnoticed and growing cold.
And at that moment, without so much as a knock, the door of her room swung open. Misha instinctively flinched back, but what she saw was pale blond hair and brilliant green eyes.
“You look awfully pathetic, Misha,” the man said with a sarcastic smile. “I don’t remember teaching you to sit around crying while there are sick people who need your help.”
Misha stared at the man dumbfounded as he strode over to her side—a man she had wanted to see more than anyone else in the world.
“Uncle Ryne...? Wh-Why are you here?” Misha muttered dumbly.
Ryne frowned. “I told you I was coming, didn’t I? Did the message not reach you?” He spoke like they had just seen each other at dinner the night before.
“But this is the castle! How did you get them to let you in?”
“If I want to go somewhere, there’s no one who can stop me. More importantly, what do you think you’re doing?” he followed up his unbelievable answer with a question of his own, eyes turning cold.
“What do you mean...?” Misha was all but lost for words, not understanding what Ryne was trying to say.
Ryne gave a heavy sigh. “Disease is running rampant throughout the city, so why are you sitting here locked up in your own room? That’s what I’m asking,” Ryne said, as if dealing with a child in the middle of a tantrum.
Misha bit her lip. “I haven’t stuck myself here the whole time! I’ve been examining the patients, making medicine, and investigating the cause of the disease! I’ve been doing everything I can! But... But...”
“I don’t need to hear crap about you doing your best. It doesn’t matter how hard you’ve tried if people are dying.” Ryne brushed off Misha’s desperate defense, leaving her stunned. His eyes were still cold, emotionless as he stared at her. “Have you really done everything you could? Are you just sitting in your room talking to yourself, or are you actually facing your patients? What are their complexions like? How are their bodies doing? Are you watching the disease as it progresses? Why haven’t you done any autopsies on those who have already died?”
Ryne’s words continued to echo in the otherwise silent room, Misha’s expression falling further and further.
“Why did we spend so long learning how to dissect bodies? I don’t want any excuses about how you’ve never done it to a human before. Were all those animals we hunted in the forest killed for nothing? You know more than enough to do it. I know you do. That’s why Ley and I were happy to prescribe the medicine you made to people.”
Each of Ryne’s words was like a fresh lash on her heart. Another tear streaked down her face. It was something she had considered before, but...
“But... But everyone was already so sad. I couldn’t just ask them to let me cut apart their family members.”
Although she had been taught that autopsy was a necessary part of learning medicine, she had learned from her conversation with Conan and the other doctors that the practice wasn’t seen the same way here. Surprisingly, it wasn’t required among medical professionals. Their only study of it came from books; many doctors had no firsthand experience. When Misha had questioned Conan about it, he had told her that most families weren’t willing to allow their deceased relatives to have their bodies torn apart like that, and so they had difficulty getting bodies for it.
At that, Misha had pictured her own mother’s face. Would she have been able to cut open her mother’s body like she had the animals in the forest? She could sew it up nice and cleanly afterward, but could she really open her up in the first place, take out her organs, and study what she saw?
Of course not. I’d never do that...
That realization had helped her understand those people’s feelings. Even if their loved ones were dead, people would still be sad to have them torn open like that. So when the first few deaths from the plague had been reported, she had considered autopsies, but she had looked away.
A loud slap filled the room as Ryne struck Misha’s tear-stricken face.