Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Things don't stop happening just because people are afraid.

The loyal coachman rubbed his hands, then pulled the carriage door open.

The next second, brilliant sunlight surged down like a glorious tsunami.

For a moment, Lyle felt as if she had been thrown into a pot of boiling water. Even though she opened her umbrella above her head as swiftly as she could, it only blocked a portion of the sunlight.

The remaining bit of searing heat forced its way into the cramped space, roaring as it splashed onto the vampire's face!

Lyle immediately felt excruciating, bone-deep pain. Her face was burning, and fine, thin smoke seeped from the scorched flesh. Every drop of blood that flowed down was instantly burned to black ash by the sunlight.

She almost lost control and screamed!

Why did it hurt so much?! As if she were truly being roasted over a fire!

On the blue-purple light screen only she could see in her pupils, the health bar value was helpfully displayed. The number was plummeting at an alarming rate.

"Oh..." Lyle whimpered, arching her back. Under the cover of the umbrella, she quickly took out a small glass vial from her hand and poured it into her mouth.

No, one was not enough!

Terrified out of her wits, Lyle swiftly pulled out a second, then a third.

She had to survive these two hundred meters!

"Holy Father..." The coachman took off his hat, sorrowfully comforting the newly widowed lady. "Madam, my condolences. Dr. Harvey certainly wouldn't want to see you so heartbroken!"

"Poor woman." People nearby heard the coachman and saw the hunched, trembling woman. They all cast looks of pity. "Poor Mrs. Thomas, what will she do now?"

Vig paused, his gaze fixed.

Fifty meters.

Her entire face hurt as if it were being torn apart. Her hand could barely hold the parasol. Her health bar plummeted and soared erratically, and the vials strapped under her lantern sleeves were nearly half empty in an instant.

One hundred meters.

The scent of flowers mixed with human sweat was driving the vampire mad. Her satiety meter was maxed out, but the skin on her face had been burned, healed, and burned again thirty-eight times!

Lyle's vision darkened, her mind felt as if split by an axe. To stay conscious and maintain her pace, she even bit off a piece of flesh from inside her lip!

One hundred and fifty meters.

*Should she just kill everyone here?* Someone was talking to her. How much further? Where was the Ghoul? Lyle covered her eyes, her thoughts soaring to the clouds and plummeting to hell from the pain. She felt as if her eyeballs had exploded.

"Vig," Pastor Anthony walked over worriedly, "you should go over and support her. She looks like she's about to cry herself into a faint. Such touching love. I've never seen a woman love her husband so deeply."

"She probably doesn't want to accept help from anyone right now." Vig took a few steps forward, his gaze fixed on the constantly swaying, lower and lower black umbrella. He had seen clearly moments before: a kind-hearted noblewoman tried to step forward to help, but was coldly ignored.

That was definitely the kind of emotional turmoil that only appears when one is utterly heartbroken. Vig had seen it many times on the battlefield. Even over a decade ago, he had personally experienced it when his parents died.

To think... she was this devoted to his brother.

Vig recalled the sparse correspondence he'd had with his brother. In his words, his brother had indeed briefly described their love.

[Miss Lyle is very considerate. She often stays up late to cook a warm pot of meat soup and sweet hot mulled wine for me. Even though it makes her drowsy during the day, she never tires of it, all to ensure I have a healthy body and abundant energy.]

[I am certain she loves me, just as I love her. Our love is far more sacred and pure than white gardenias. I hope such beauty will also befall you, Vig. I too wish for your happiness.]

It was a gentle affection that Vig could feel even amidst the bloody chaos of the battlefield.

But he hadn't believed his brother's judgment at the time. His brother's sudden death and the letters sent had made him lose trust in everyone.

Vig hadn't slept at all last night, having spent the night investigating the information about the people around Harvey, especially the past of Lyle, the closest to him.

Frail and sickly, rarely going out, yet kind to everyone, she handled almost all the cleanup after his brother's treatments.

Many who had visited his brother's clinic mentioned that sometimes the blood drawn was foul and sticky, but Lyle never complained once.

She bore the toil without complaint. Even covered in bloodstains, she would give Harvey a smile as refreshing as a spring breeze.

Moreover, she had no parents or siblings. Her entire life depended solely on his brother. After his brother's death, she lost all sources of income and might not even be able to afford basic living expenses.

So, the Paladin thought cautiously, watching the trembling parasol, she had no motive for murder.

On the night his brother died, several neighbors were also certain she hadn't left home.

Therefore, she should be innocent, just a poor soul who had lost her protector.

Two hundred meters.

Lyle was drenched, as if just pulled from water; her thin gloves were soaked through with sweat. The burns on her face healed rapidly. Her hairstyle became damp, slick, and tangled, her round hat already completely askew.

Trembling, Lyle finished the last vial of blood from her left forearm. Her steps didn't stop as she glared venomously at the ground that had finally turned dark.

She had made it.

She had successfully traversed the two-hundred-meter garden in the first faint light of dawn, in full view of everyone.

She had succeeded! She was alive!

Ha, Lyle almost wanted to stuff her fist in her mouth and cheer loudly!!

But she couldn't.

Sheer willpower drove her to continue forward at the same pace. Stopping now would arouse suspicion; she must not stop.

With her heart pounding wildly, she opened the game interface to calm herself down.

The precarious health bar did the trick. That line of numbers, like a dying old man, slowly and laboriously climbed to 38 and then stopped moving.

It wasn't a safe number; it hadn't even healed the wounds on her face.

With her cold sweat, Lyle adjusted her hat and hairstyle. Amidst the intense pain, she felt a burn still lingering on her forehead, hidden in her hair and covered by the hat. It should be hard to see from the outside.

She cursed the damned heavens; if a breeze dared to blow, she would bite everyone here to death.

"Lyle," a low, clear voice sounded beside her. First to appear in her view were a pair of black boots. "We've arrived. You can stop now."

Lyle froze. Brazenly using the parasol to shield her upper body, she quickly wiped her face clean with a handkerchief. Only then did she slowly lift the umbrella, revealing empty, bewildered eyes. "What?"

From wiping too hard, her face turned as white as snow. The dark circles under her eyes were so pronounced they looked like smudges of ink.

No respectable lady would allow herself to appear in public looking like this, unless she was too grief-stricken to care.

Vig studied her intently, then reached out to grasp the upper part of the parasol handle. With a slight tug, he took down the parasol and folded it.

"We have arrived, Lyle. It's all over now. You can stop."

Behind him, vast stretches of forest extended outward. Their canopies, deliberately altered, blotted out the sky, weaving together a thick, cool blanket of shadow that set the stage for the farewell ceremony.

This time, Vig did not stand before Lyle like a judge.

He stood just a step away from her side, devoting half his attention to her, on guard in case she might collapse from grief right there on the spot.

After all, her once neatly coiled bun had come completely undone from her crying. Vig believed this was the height of sorrow.

Of course, precisely because of that long, thick, curly hair, the Paladin Commander naturally did not discover the cloth earplugs firmly stuffed into her ear canals, hidden beneath the hair.

To block out sound, Lyle had specifically torn up a winter woolen skirt.

Now, forget the Paladin Commander speaking by her ear or Pastor Anthony reciting prayers. Even if these two men brought the Holy Father down to play drop the handkerchief, she wouldn't hear a single word.

Soon enough, the funeral began.

"...Merciful Holy Father, may Your Spirit now comfort the hearts of the Thomas family, enveloping their sorrow. Until we meet again in Your glorious kingdom."

Anthony raised his hands high, and everyone together made the sign of the cross over their chests. "In the name of the Lord, the Holy Father, we pray. May Harvey Thomas's good influence live on."

Most of the funeral attendees were the doctor's patients, with a small portion being nobles who came because of Vig.

Each of them was deeply devout, chanting the funeral liturgy in unison, their moving arms resembling waves of flesh.

Only two people remained still.

Lyle stared at the ground, clearing her mind, desperately trying not to let a single sound leak into her ears.

Meanwhile, Vig stood slightly behind her, the only movement coming from his piercingly icy blue eyes.

He scrutinized each arriving guest with solemn seriousness, attempting to match their faces with the information he had gathered from his investigation.

That was the information he had ordered his subordinates to collect—details about the last days of his brother's life.

But nothing seemed amiss—no suspicious people, no suspicious events. His brother had gone to the Elk Tavern for a few drinks as usual and then left.

Everything seemed like a genuine accident.

But... beneath the tree shade, the Paladin clenched his own wrist tightly, his knuckles turning white. Why did he keep hearing his brother's corpse wail?

The funeral continued. Despite having rushed about all night, Pastor Anthony remained composed, moving many to tears.

He was also considerate enough to have the remains of the Thomas couple from burial plot 168 reinterred beside Harvey Thomas.

"In life and death, we shall be with our most important family."

Lyle looked at the names and ages on the tombstone and lowered her eyes.

So Harvey's parents had already died over a decade ago. This came as a surprise.

That meant she only had to face her "brother," who was soon heading to the front lines, right?

Thinking this, she couldn't help but shift her gaze, slightly turning her head to glance back.

Vig stood with lowered eyes, his expression darkening as he stared at the freshly carved tombstone.

-

The funeral proceeded more smoothly than imagined. By the end, Lyle had completely emptied her mind, putting on a look of utter heartbreak and desolation.

This worked in her favor, shielding her from those who tried to approach and engage in conversation.

After all, Lyle's current appearance wasn't far from someone gravely ill and on the verge of death. Anyone with any social graces would choose to keep their distance.

But this actually played right into the hands of many.

Compared to a frail, sickly widow who had lost the protection of her renowned doctor husband, a young and highly esteemed Paladin Commander was far more appealing.

Thus, the nobles attending the funeral swarmed around Vig like ghouls drawn to rotting corpses. Even though the Paladin Commander's responses were as cold as an arctic night, they were undeterred, their enthusiasm unabated.

Left on the sidelines, Lyle was pleased. She took the opportunity to remove the cotton from her ears, hearing many people eagerly touting their noble names to Vig.

For most, Vig merely gave a simple nod. It was only when Pastor Anthony introduced an elegant gentleman that Vig responded for the first time.

"Thank you, Viscount Penggeli, for everything you did for my brother."

Not only Vig, but upon seeing that elegant gentleman, the surrounding nobles broke into murmurs of surprise.

"Good heavens! Mr. Panglie, even you have come?"

"Of course," the man addressed as Panglie replied with a smile, nodding to the crowd. His soft, silver-gray hair lay softly, his demeanor elegant and reserved. "Dr. Harvey performed many acts of kindness. His medical skills brought new life to many. Therefore, I wish to come here on behalf of my brother to host a small farewell gathering for Dr. Harvey, in memory of such an outstanding individual. The venue will be at the auxiliary monastery. I hope everyone can honor us with their presence."

Although his words were directed at everyone, his emerald-green eyes remained fixed on Vig.

Unfortunately, the iceberg-like Paladin Commander offered no response. Instead, the people around him began chattering like sparrows.

"We will certainly attend the gathering organized by Mr. Panglie. You are too kind!"

"It's just that we wonder about Viscount Penggeli..."

Hearing this, Mr. Panglie's smile faded slightly. He withdrew his gaze from Vig. "My apologies, everyone. My brother has urgent matters and cannot get away, so he is unable to attend today."

So he was the Viscount's younger brother. No wonder he received such red-carpet treatment.

Lyle committed that face to memory and quietly retreated further into the crowd.

Now that everyone's attention was captured by the Viscount's brother and the Paladin Commander, all she had to do was keep things as they are.

If this scene could persist, then she could smoothly get through the funeral. Afterward, no one would suspect her, and she could easily resolve the first crisis since she transmigrated.

However, things seldom go as planned.

"Mrs. Thomas..." An anxious, hurried voice suddenly rang out. Lyle followed the sound and met a gaze that looked even more exhausted than hers.

It was a simply dressed woman with a waterfall of deep brown hair, loosely tied with a dark yellow scarf. She wore little jewelry, her complexion sallow, with pronounced dark circles under her eyes.

Clearly dressed as a commoner, the nearby nobles immediately recoiled as if from the plague.

One gentleman even angrily berated the servants lingering by the gate. "Who let her in?! Don't they know how many distinguished guests are present here?!"

"Mrs. Thomas... I'm so sorry to disturb you at such a time... but I truly have a very important matter..."

The woman looked panicked at the servants rushing toward her, then at Lyle's somewhat bewildered expression. Clutching her handkerchief tightly, she shouted, "I am Meimei Samson! You may not have heard my name, but I did pay the consultation fee to Dr. Harvey three days ago, for my sick child! You can't just chase me out like this. My child... my child..."

"Wait!"

The Paladin Commander, who had been keeping an eye on this situation, extricated himself from the chattering nobles and strode over. The icy chill in those blue eyes made Meimei shudder.

"I'm sorry, that was the day my brother died. What happened that day?"

"I just wanted Dr. Harvey to come check on my child who had been accidentally injured..." Meimei said, her teeth chattering. "But the doctor was really busy that day—there were three patients waiting at the door."

"I had no choice but to pay the consultation fee in advance and get the doctor to agree to come see my child after the last treatment was finished."

However, it was clear that the doctor had not kept his promise. Instead, he was sent to the next world by his wife and her lover with a cup of poisoned wine.

Of course, apart from Lyle, no one present knew this fact. So Meimei could only see this as an ordeal sent by the Holy Father. She sympathized with Mrs. Thomas's sudden loss of her husband, waiting anxiously and painfully until this morning.

"Although I'm very sorry to hear about Dr. Harvey's accident, I really have no other choice. The doctor had promised to come see my child after the evening surgery, but such awful news came. Waiting three days is all the time my child has left..."

As she spoke, Meimei's eyes quickly reddened, and her voice took on a muffled, nasal tone.

"I came here today to ask Mrs. Thomas if she could return my consultation fee. If we delay any longer, I'm afraid my child won't survive long enough for us to find another doctor... And we truly cannot afford a second consultation fee in such a short time... It was a full 5 Holy Gold Coins..."

Five Holy Gold Coins meant nothing to the late Harvey, but for Meimei, wearing nothing but a simple linen dress, it represented her family's entire savings.

Moreover, if this noble lady decided to refuse to pay, she had almost no means to resist.

Thus, this desperate mother looked terribly anxious.

Especially now, after speaking her piece, she clutched the hem of her skirt tightly, like a criminal dragged before the seat of judgment, awaiting the verdict in tension and dread.

Unexpectedly, a gentle voice spoke up the next moment.

"Please rest assured," Lyle said softly, "Harvey kept detailed records of every transaction. If this is true, I won't withhold money that isn't rightfully ours."

Hearing this, Meimei finally breathed a sigh of relief, her expression brightening slightly.

"However," the widow of the late, renowned doctor asked casually, "could you tell me what illness your child has?"

"It's her right hand," Meimei choked up at the mention of her poor child. "That day, she was just attracted by a bird's nest in the oak tree, so she accidentally fell. My poor Ruby..."

She finally couldn't hold back her tears. "Her wrist is swollen like a long-tailed monkey's bottom. It was red at first, but these past two days, it's turned more and more purple... And her fingers simply won't straighten out... That terrible bend seems like it's going to take her life!"

"Oh..." A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd at Meimei's words. The nobles backed away even further, and even the servants who had been about to throw Meimei out dared not approach.

They were all frightened by Ruby's condition, afraid that getting too close to this mother might mean catching the disease.

Meanwhile, Lyle looked at the grieving Meimei and felt a surge of excitement—she had been wondering how to launch her plan to reopen the clinic, and here was a ready-made, delivered opportunity.

Of course, she also understood why Meimei said those bent fingers would take the child's life. In an era of underdeveloped medical technology, a common cold or an infection could be the death of any ordinary person.

"I am deeply saddened by everything Miss Ruby has endured," Lyle said, her eyes quickly misting over. She patted Meimei's hand sympathetically. "Poor child, she must be terribly frightened. But please don't worry, my husband and I have a very precise treatment method for injuries like Ruby's—yes, we studied and practiced it together, and the success rate is quite high."

"If possible, and if you trust Harvey's Clinic, I could go take a look in my husband's stead. I've helped handle similar injuries countless times. I'm quite skilled at it."

As soon as these words were spoken, the surroundings fell silent instantly.

Vig and Anthony suddenly looked over, while everyone else who had been secretly watching, including Meimei, stared at Lyle as if she were a fool.

Their faces clearly showed two words: *You?*