Terminally-ill Instructor in Romance Fantasy

The noise of scratching of pens filled the place as students crowded around the registration tables.

The cooking club's line was unusually long, drawing glances from neighboring booths.

Nox stood across the hall when a girl with black hair and sharp red eyes stepped up to him.

Her lips curved into a playful smile.

"Wow..."

She said, as she tilted her head slightly.

"...you joined the same club as me.

You really want to be around me, huh?"

Nox didn't flinch.

His hands slipped deeper into his pockets, voice low and even.

"I did it for my own interests.

Don't flatter yourself."

The girl leaned a little closer, lowering her tone just enough that only he could hear.

"Mm… by the look in your eyes, I can tell you didn't expect your elder brother to be the club's patron."

For a moment, Nox's expression stiffened.

His jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

At a table where Lumi sat with Grassia and Miss Melissa, the lively chatter momentarily faltered.

Lumi's gaze had fixed itself on the scene on Nox, standing there with the black-haired girl, their exchange pulling them into a little world of their own.

Lumi, who'd been munching on a snack, nudged Grassia with her elbow.

"Hey, who's that girl talking to Nox?"

Grassia followed the line of sight, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Don't know their relation too well…

...but she's in the same class as him."

Lumi's usual bright expression faltered, just for a heartbeat.

Her lips pressed together in the kind of half-smile that wasn't really a smile at all.

It was that subtle look someone wore when they caught sight of something they didn't want to admit bothered them.

Her eyes lingered on Nox and the girl, her cheer dimmed in a way even she didn't quite understand.

And the moment quietly ended there.

***

The evening had settled over the Saint Grenn household, painting the tall windows in hues of deep indigo and gold.

Lamps were being lit, and the halls were alive with the quiet rhythm of maids finishing their duties.

The peace shattered when the front doors burst open.

A chauffeur in a crisp black uniform stumbled in, his face pale, his gloved hands trembling as he clutched his small top-hat against his chest.

His voice rang out desperately.

"Help! H-help...someone, quickly!"

The clatter of trays halted.

Maids froze mid-step, heads turning toward the frantic man whose words echoed through the grand foyer.

From the staircase, a sharp voice sliced through the chaos.

"What is all this commotion?"

It was Madam Gresha, descending with a hand lightly grazing the railing, her eyes narrowed in irritation at the noise that disturbed her evening's calm.

The chauffeur spun toward her, bowing hastily, the hat nearly slipping from his sweaty grip.

"M-madam… it's...it's… it's..."

He stammered so hard his words tangled in his throat.

His breath came in gasps, too fast for sense.

Madam Gresha lifted a hand, her tone calm but firm.

"Enough.

Take a breath before your tongue ties itself in knots.

I'm sure whatever has happened can be catered to.

A solution will be found immediately."

The chauffeur sucked in air, chest heaving, then spoke in a trembling rush.

"On… on the way back from the Imperial Academy… h-he… he blacked out in the car…"

Madam Gresha's eyes, sharp and poised only moments ago, widened.

"Who blacked out?"

Her voice cracked just slightly.

The chauffeur swallowed hard.

"I-it's… Sir Noel.

He… he lost consciousness while I was driving him back.

I couldn't ...w-wasn't able to wake him…

...I'm sorry..."

For one suspended second, the world seemed to go silent around her.

Then Madam Gresha swept down the stairs, her silken gown trailing behind her, all composure cast aside.

She didn't stop for explanation and didn't wait for anyone to follow.

She pushed through the doors and hurried outside.

Her son.

It wasn't the first time.

Memories rushed like knives in her chest to times when she had watched his body betray him...

...andwatched the color drain from his face as the illness pulled him into its cruel grip.

But it had been a while.

Too long, perhaps, that she had allowed herself to believe it wasn't haunting him anymore.

Even after returning from the military, he hadn't collapsed once.

She had almost believed he was safe…

But she knew better.

She knew her boy was terminally ill, living each day at the edge of death, every moment borrowed time.

And tonight, it felt as though death had reached out its hand for him once more.

***

༺[Noel's POV]༻

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt wasn't the pain.

It was warmth.

My head rested on something soft.

And fingers combed gently through my hair, smoothing the strands that had stuck to my forehead with sweat.

I blinked slowly, vision still unfocused, but the rhythm of that touch… steady, careful, endlessly patient… made me feel as if I could melt into it.

Then I saw her.

Mother.

Her face hovered above mine, her lips pressed into a thin line, though her eyes were trembling.

And what shocked me wasn't just her expression.

It was her hands.

Her hands were Bare and uncovered.

The hands that were always sheathed in gloves, because she detested the feel of germs, the touch of unclean things… they were now brushing across my cheek, smoothing my temple, tracing the edges of my damp hair without hesitation.

She whispered softly, her voice catching as though it had been holding back for hours.

"You finally decided to come back to me."

My lips parted, but my throat was too dry to answer.

I only swallowed, struggling to remember… the car, the way the evening air had felt heavy on my skin, the growing heat inside my body, as if fire had replaced my blood.

My limbs had grown sluggish, my vision blurred, water pooling until everything looked drowned.

Then followed agony.

It felt as if my heart and veins were being ripped apart from the inside.

Mother's voice broke through the fog.

"Noel dear… tell me.

Do you still carry the pills I gave you?"

"Pills…?"

My voice was hoarse, the word barely forming.

Her eyes narrowed with worry.

"The bottled medicine for your condition...that holds back the attacks when they come suddenly."

I froze.

Since I arrived in this world, not once had I taken any pills.

I didn't even remember seeing any.

My mind spun, realization dawning painfully.

'...so that's why.

That's why it struck me so hard today.'

Those pills weren't a cure...they were moreso acting like a shield...yes they were flimsy and temporary, but enough to buy me time.

And without them…

"I… I haven't taken them."

The words barely slipped past my lips.

Mother's hand stopped, resting against my temple, her breath catching for the briefest second.

Then she sighed, long and heavy, before resuming the gentle motion through my hair.

I tried to sit up, but the attempt was useless.

My back screamed in protest, sharp pain twisting up my spine until I bit down on my teeth.

Even if I had my cane, I knew I wouldn't be able to stand at all.

So I let myself stay.

I lay there, helpless, my head still cradled in her lap, her hands smoothing over me.

And in that moment… it didn't feel like defeat.

It felt like I was worth a billion dollars.

Like I had been born only to stay right here, in the arms of someone who cared enough to chase death away with the sheer stubbornness of her love.

Mother chuckled softly, though the sound trembled.

"My son is lucky, isn't he?

His own doctor and health attendant is none other than his mother."

My eyes widened.

It didn't occur to me once that this body's personal doctor was none other than the mother.

She smiled faintly, bittersweet.

"When your illness began when you were still little, I let others handle it at first.

Doctors...nurses...hired attendants.

But…"

Her lips pressed tighter.

"None of them cared for you the way I wanted.

They treated you like a task, not like my child. Sometimes, they even left you alone."

Her voice faltered, as though saying it out loud still hurt.

My chest clenched.

"I couldn't stand it...

She continued, brushing her thumb across my temple.

"And… I noticed something.

Whenever you were with me, Noel, your symptoms eased.

Your breathing steadied, the pain dulled.

But when you were left in the hands of others… the illness flared.

So I became your doctor myself.

I swore never to let anyone else stand between me and your care."

Her voice shook.

With those words alone it flared a moment from my memories as Ju-Won.

***

The boy was coughing again.

His small frame shook under the weight of the fits, his lips pale, his forehead burning with heat.

"Ju-won, breathe… slowly.

Just slowly."

His mother's voice trembled, though her hands did not.

She pressed a cool cloth to his temple, wiping away the sweat that dampened his hair.

"M-mum… it hurts…"

The words were weak, almost drowned beneath his own coughing.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into her lap.

The moment she held him close, his shivering eased.

The suffocating weight in his chest lessened, as though his illness itself bent to her presence.

"Hush… I'm here..."

She whispered.

And miraculously, it was true.

His breathing slowed.

His tears stopped.

His fever dropped bit by bit.

To Ju-won, his mother was not simply comfort. She was the cure.

---

Years passed.

The boy had grown into a young man. Stronger, taller.

His body no longer trembled the way it once had.

But fate was cruel.

Now it was she who lay upon the bed.

Her face pale, her lips dry, her body seized with the same choking illness that had once plagued him.

"Mum, hold on.

Please… just breathe...just like you taught me."

Noel pressed the cloth to her forehead, just as she had done for him countless nights.

But nothing happened.

Her coughing didn't ease.

Her breathing didn't steady.

The illness didn't subside.

His presence had no power.

"Why…? Why isn't it working?!"

His voice cracked, raw with despair.

He pressed her closer, as if sheer will could force his health into her body.

"When I was sick… when I couldn't breathe… you healed me.

You made it stop.

Why can't I do the same for you?!"

His mother's trembling hand rose, brushing against his cheek.

Her touch was weak, almost weightless.

"Because, Ju-won… a mother's love… is different."

Tears blurred his vision.

He held her tighter, as if afraid she would vanish.

But no matter how fiercely he clung to her, the illness did not leave her.

Until she...eventually passed away.

***

Noel still lay still on the wide bed, his chest rising faintly beneath the covers.

His face looked almost peaceful, yet the pallor of his skin betrayed the weight of his condition.

His mother sat beside him, her hand brushing through his hair the way she had when he was a child.

She tried to smile, but it wavered, breaking under the heaviness in her chest.

Her voice trembled softly as she spoke.

"You know… you weren't always like this...

You were such a cheeky boy.

You were always laughing, always running about the manor as if nothing in the world could hold you down."

Her eyes glistened as she let out a shaky chuckle.

"I still remember the time you tied all of your sister's dolls together with ribbons and hung them from the chandelier in the sitting room.

She cried and cried, and you just stood there with that guilty grin, swearing you were training them to be 'soldiers.'"

Her thumb stroked his temple.

"And the way you used to hide behind the drapes to jump out at the maids… ah, the poor women nearly dropped silver trays more times than I can count.

You thought it was the funniest thing in the world."

Her voice began to break.

"Even with the illness shadowing you… even when your body was weak… your spirit was always so full of life.

You never let anyone see you suffer, did you?

You smiled for everyone, even when it hurt."

She leaned forward, her tears dripping into his dark hair.

"I never want to lose you, Noel...

I love all my children… but when I had you..."

Her voice cracked fully now, trembling with a grief too heavy to contain.

"When I had you, I was terrified...

You were born without breath… your tiny body so still in my arms.

I thought I had lost you before I even got to know you.

And then, when you finally cried, when that sound filled the room… it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

That was the moment I swore I would be the best mum in the empire....for you, no matter what..."

Her forehead pressed gently to his, her tears soaking his hair.

"I am a renowned doctor of this empire...

...I have saved soldiers torn apart on the battlefield.

...I have cured noblemen and even children… everyone who came to me...

Everyone but you."

Her voice fell into a whisper, trembling, aching.

"My greatest shame is that the one life I want most to save is the one I cannot.

My Noel...My precious boy.

Do you know what my greatest fear is?

It's not war, not plague, not even death itself.

It's losing you… losing you in the same silence you were born into."

Her hand gripped his tightly, as though her touch alone could anchor him to this world.

"So please… don't go where I can't reach you.

Don't leave me in that silence again."

"..."

Noel reached out, his hand steady despite the faintness in his body.

With his thumb, he brushed away the tears on her cheek.

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Don't cry...I'm here, aren't I?"

For a long moment, mother and son stayed like that, suspended in silence.

Slowly, Madam Gresha regained her composure, though her eyes still glistened.

She tried to speak in a lighter tone, though her heart remained heavy.

"…Tell me, Noel.

How is your brother faring at the academy?

It's been a while since he's wanted to visit...he's a very closed boy...so please take care of him for me..."

Noel paused.

The truth lingered on the tip of his tongue...that his brother barely looked at him, that they passed each other like strangers rather than blood.

Saying it would carve new wounds into his mother's heart, wounds she would hide but carry forever.

So, with a smile warm enough to soothe her fears, he said.

"He is doing amazing, Mother."

His hand still rested gently against her face as he spoke, his thumb sweeping one last tear away.