The Doctor Cured The Villainess And Ran Away-Chapter 53: Social Party (1)
“P-Prepared!”
Chloe thumped down the day’s batch of finished materials.
“Okay. That’s more than enough to meet the deadline. We start deliveries to Mokhwigung next week, so keep everything strictly managed.”
“Yesssir!”
For now, it’s faster and more accurate to do the compounding myself with alchemy.
Once she builds up more skill, I plan to have Chloe handle even the compounding for delivery batches.
I told her to put up a hiring notice since we’d soon be short on hands, but no applicants so far.
I opened my status window and checked the skill list.
―――――――――――
○ Alchemy C
· Enhancement C – Property Alteration C
· Compression C
· Synthesis C – Extraction D
· (Unacquired)
○ Medicine C
· Diagnosis C – Blood Test C – X-ray Scan D
· Prescription D
· First Aid D – Surgery (Basic) C
· (Unacquired)
―――――――――――
I’ve picked up a decent number of skills now. I need to use them properly, in the right places.
For drugs like aspirin that utilize the raw ingredient’s effects, the compression and enhancement processes are efficient and yield quick results.
On the other hand, medicine that requires chemical processing must start with extraction, which takes significantly longer to make.
“Doctor, the materials have arrived.”
“Oh, just stack them over there for now.”
Tanya aligned a large box precisely in the corner. The office was starting to look more like a logistics warehouse.
I really do need a bigger space.
Right now, what I want to make most is a digestive medicine.
Which means I’ve been collecting bizarre ingredients like pig pancreas, corn, and random leafy greens.
“This is taking way too long. Mass production's not happening.”
I gave up on producing the digestive base.
If I sink this much time into making just emergency meds, it’s not efficient.
Using simpler ingredients drops the efficacy too much, making it unusable for patients.
If I’m going to spend this much time anyway, I should at least make something like a painkiller, a strength-enhancement tonic, or a mana potion—something that packs a punch.
A so-called finisher.
I decided to postpone the digestive meds until I had a full production line.
“Might as well make soda water for now.”
It does have a mild digestive effect.
Though, if overused, it becomes harmful to the stomach instead.
Coke... sounds good right about now.
I moved on to making my finisher. Conveniently, there was one project I’d been working on persistently for days, and it was nearly complete.
I prepared two syringes of liquid.
Got the idea from that thing they distribute in the military with gas masks as part of CBR gear.
“It’s an antidote.”
This antidote temporarily nullifies neurotoxins, buying time to receive proper treatment.
Ironically, most antidotes are toxic themselves. There’s a reason for the phrase “fight poison with poison.”
The idea came to me after the Camilla incident with the black magicians.
Black magic tends to induce hallucinations or deal damage over time—basically [N O V E L I G H T] a kind of poison.
The Curse of the Death Dragon is technically black magic, too. Asella got caught up in it during the martial arts tournament, and something like that could easily happen again.
And if Asella ends up poisoned and dies?
No need to overthink it—that would lock me into a guaranteed bad ending.
This antidote is insurance for her.
“The small one is atropine, the large one is oxime.”
It was the fruit of my alchemical grind, wandering the northern palace mountains gathering poisonous herbs.
“Synthesize.”
I completed the final process with a spell circle.
Mm. Lovely.
It’s for emergencies. Hopefully I’ll never need to use it.
I tucked it neatly inside my coat.
I have so many different syringes in my emergency set now, I’ve memorized exactly where each one is placed to avoid confusion.
“Doctor, shouldn’t you be heading out soon to get ready for the party?”
Prompted by Tanya, I took out my pocket watch.
“Still three hours left.”
“Which means it’s time to go.”
“It takes like five minutes to change.”
“Are you serious? With that hairstyle?”
What’s wrong with my hair.
“I-It’s an important event... P-Please leave the office to usss...”
Even Chloe was fidgeting and pushing me toward the door.
When they go that far, there’s no choice but to go. Besides, if I’m late, Asella will definitely chew me out.
I set off for Moonlight Palace.
***
Darkness had settled over the imperial ballroom where the party was being held. The sparkling stars were drowned out by dazzling chandeliers.
Sure, it was important that the Duke of the West came from a venerable bloodline that had served since the empire’s founding, or that he had just won a minor skirmish against a neighboring kingdom.
It was important, but not the reason Asella sighed as she gazed out from the balcony.
Winning over noble support was essential for a successor. Even if you became Emperor, it was meaningless if a rebellion erupted immediately.
Social circles were something she had to face eventually. Especially tonight—a gathering of the empire’s next generation of powerhouses, heirs to their noble houses.
But right now, Asella was already swamped with growing her faction in the imperial family and keeping rival successors in check.
Too much work.
Faction building, palace administration, noble outreach, academics.
She was confident she could handle it all. Moonlight Palace had grown visibly stronger compared to when Camilla held real power.
Even so, what she was accomplishing as a mere girl was superhuman.
But such things are simply expected from one of royal blood.
Maybe it's getting to me a little.
The sigh she let out had slipped past without her noticing, accumulated from chronic stress.
She also prayed she wouldn’t suddenly suffer a stomachache in the middle of a crowd.
That was the main reason she’d declined Lauga’s invitations up until now.
Showing weakness in front of nobles would be hard to recover from.
She had planned to debut in society a few years later—two or three years at most.
Still...
Now she wanted more.
The Emperor had grown old.
As if next year might not even come, he was straining to prove he was still strong.
He pushed forward with the martial arts tournament despite a plague and monster attacks.
He didn’t even watch most of it, nodding off from the second day onward.
The court healers and physicians had a hell of a time.
He wasn’t ancient, but he’d used up all his energy in youth.
Since no one knew when he might collapse, she had to move faster.
And...
Now she felt she’d be fine, even if an unforeseen event were to occur.
Just a bit longer.
She was thinking that when—
“Asella.”
A voice called her name, and Asella turned her head.
Camilla, extravagantly dressed, had stepped onto the balcony from the next room.
“Mother.”
“You seem to be doing well.”
Camilla offered a bitter smile. Her venom seemed to have diminished a little compared to before.
“I didn’t expect Moonlight Palace to run so well without me. Color me surprised.”
“I am a princess. What brings you here?”
Asella wasted no time getting to the point. Camilla never initiated conversation without a purpose.
“My pact with Georg is complete.”
“What kind of pact?”
“You know the Second Empress is just like Lauga’s mother—utterly unfit for politics. A pampered caged bird who’s only ever known luxury.”
She was talking about Georg and Lauga’s birth mother. A stunning foreign princess the Emperor had taken during a conquest 25 years ago.
“What puts Georg at a disadvantage compared to Gunther or Heike is that he lacks a legitimate Empress Dowager.”
Click. Camilla walked closer.
“I agreed to support Georg. In return, once he ascends the throne, he will treat me as his Empress Dowager and grant me authority. That is the pact.”
In other words, Georg would recognize Camilla as his de facto political mother.
And conversely, Camilla was cutting ties with Asella and the imperial family.
“Asella, I needed an Emperor on my side. His Majesty turned his back on me long ago.”
“I know.”
“I was greedy. I wronged you. I’m reflecting on that.”
Asella listened quietly.
“Maybe I burdened you, the youngest of the royal family, with too much. It was my war to fight alone.”
Camilla’s lips curved in regret, her eyes misty.
“Asella, you no longer need to cling to succession. Live happily like Lauga, enjoying the privileges of royalty.”
“...Am I allowed to?”
Camilla brightened and answered.
“Of course. Leave the headaches to me and rest. No more studying, no more palace management, no more magic lessons. I even consulted my Sage.”
She grew more animated, raising her voice.
“He said your magic talent and its cost can be removed. Asella, from now on, you can live freely and normally.”
“I see.”
Unlike the impassioned Camilla, Asella remained cold and composed.
Her sharp gaze pierced through Camilla.
Then she spoke plainly.
“I refuse.”
“What?”
Camilla’s face twisted—no trace of the gentle smile left.
Asella hadn’t flinched the entire time.
And her calmness had a simple reason:
She’d seen through Camilla’s performance from the start.
“I said I refuse. My desire to become Emperor is my own. Even without your wishes, I have more reasons to claim the throne than I can count.”
“H-How can you speak so firmly?”
“Your voice always rises when you lie, Mother.”
“What did you say?”
“You’ve spent years using every means to turn me into an Emperor. You wouldn’t throw away all that time and investment so easily. Did you really think I, Asella von Württempelt, would fall for such cheap acting?”
“You insolent little...!”
Camilla bared her fangs, knocking a glass off the table.
The shattering echoed on the floor.
“I raised a monster! How dare you defy me like this?!”
Birds of a feather, she thought. Georg and Camilla—still terrible at managing their tempers.
They had vastly underestimated her. Did they think some sweet offer would sway her like a child?
If she truly cared about her, Camilla would’ve first asked about the Curse Dragon incident at the tournament.
Only the imperial Sage knew more about magic than Camilla.
If she cared, she would’ve at least asked if Asella had been hurt.
Camilla was still filled with nothing but her own ambition.
Asella reflected on Camilla’s real goal.
The strangest part of that conversation...
There was no sign she wanted the knights or finances of Moonlight Palace.
She lied about consulting her Sage.
Why bring up that sweet story about removing the cost of magic?
She doesn’t want to remove my talent—she wants to steal it.
Asella immediately deduced Camilla’s motive.
If she had chosen Georg, then she’d want to secure every asset she could.
And there’s something more valuable than Moonlight Palace.
She’s after my talent itself.
What could she possibly have that made Camilla go so far as to fake being a good mother?
And how did Camilla even know about it?
Come to think of it...
She’s never once called me her daughter.
Not even referred to herself as a mother.
Always said “I.”
Asella reaffirmed her conviction.
Camilla was a power-hungry demon—an enemy.
From below, the orchestra’s music vibrated through the floor.
The nobles’ banquet was ending, and now it was time for the young heirs to enter.
“I’ll be taking my turn now. Please send further communication in writing.”
“Asella!”
Ignoring her cry, Asella turned sharply and stepped back into the room.
Her face remained calm, but her heart pounded.
That confrontation had made everything clear.
Camilla was no longer her mother.
She had no family left in the imperial court.
Asella crushed the creeping emptiness and locked it away.
She turned her gaze.
I’ve always done everything alone anyway.
Nothing’s changed. There’s nothing left to be disappointed by.
She had accepted it. She knew.
The path to the throne would be lonely, brutal, and drenched in blood.
But she had to walk it.
If she became Emperor...
—She would flood the world with ruin.
Without even noticing her steps had quickened, Asella exited into the hallway with her lady-in-waiting’s help.
And then—
“Your Highness.”
A voice called to her.
A man was waiting for her.
The dark haze that had been weighing on her body slowly lifted.
The tiny boat adrift in her mind finally caught the breeze under a calm moon.
It’s almost strange.
Asella took a good look at him.
His snowy hair had been carefully trimmed and styled, full of refinement.
His slim formal suit accentuated his lean frame—not rugged, but delicately attractive in a way that tugged at her protective instincts.
And yet, his noble manners made him look like a proper escort—offering his hand with grace fit for a queen.
Las tilted his head.
“Are you feeling alright? Your forehead seems a little flushed. I can examine you if—”
“Take my hand, sir.”
“Yes.”
Asella placed her gloved hand lightly atop his.
They walked down the hallway.
She could tell immediately he was matching her pace.
“Sir.”
“Yes.”
“Be confident. Straighten your shoulders.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dare tarnish Your Highness’s reputation.”
“Cut the chatter. Don’t speak a word to any lady who tries talking to you.”
“Yes.”
What a high-maintenance man.
Asella found herself sneakily glancing at his profile again and again.
—Now entering, the jewel of the Imperial Moonlight Palace, Her Highness Princess Asella von Württempelt, and her fiancé!
The doors opened, and brilliant light poured in.
Asella stepped forward in sync with Las’s right foot.
