I failed

Rafar observed me with a rigid, cold stare. His expression had transformed, no longer carrying the warmth it once did. Eigar let out a laugh and stood up.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I believe I haven’t introduced myself,” he said, extending his hand. “I am Eigar Marmota, Duke of Lacorda. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Rafar extended his hand but kept his cold demeanor.

“What business do you have with my fiancée?”

Eigar swallowed hard. Everything we had been planning was confidential and directly related to Lacorda's security. He silently pleaded for help with his eyes, and I rose to my feet.

“We are planning a new framework for the workers of Lacorda,” I said, meeting my fiancé’s gaze steadily. “We can’t go into too much detail right now, but I promise that as soon as we have proof of what’s going wrong, I’ll tell you everything.”

Rafar cast a sharp look at Eigar, taking a deep breath before replying to me.

“Very well, I will trust your word that you’ll explain everything soon.”

“Papa!” A little girl came running toward us, dressed in a beautiful pink dress. Her eyes sparkled as she beamed with joy. Eigar scooped her into his arms, and a moment later, a woman with tan skin and striking green eyes—just like the child’s—approached.

“Lady Mai, my name is Helen Marmota. It’s a great honor to finally meet you,” she said, kissing my cheeks. “I am eternally grateful for the help you are giving my husband. I know you’ve just arrived, but I hope you’ll join me for afternoon tea when you have some time.”

I smiled broadly, unable to hide my joy at hearing such kind words amidst the chaos.

“Of course!”

I noticed Rafar’s gaze fixed on the little girl. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“If you’ll excuse us, my fiancée and I need to rest. I hope you enjoy the ball and feel at home,” Rafar said.

The couple agreed, and we turned to leave. I rested my hand on Rafar’s arm, half-expecting him to brush it off, but he kept it there. I could sense he was uneasy, as if he wanted to say something. His mouth opened, but before any words came out, a scream erupted behind us.

“Cirila! Cirila, talk to me!” Helen screamed in despair, and I turned abruptly. The little girl was choking, her eyes wide and turning blue. Eigar shouted across the hall, calling for a doctor, but only the nurse who had treated me earlier was present.

I smacked my forehead. I had forgotten this event from the novel! During a trip, Eigar’s daughter died because he refused to implant a throat prosthesis that could have saved her life. I rushed toward the girl. She couldn’t see me, and her hands clawed at the air, searching for breath.

The nurse moved slowly, seeming unsure of what to do. Her magic clearly wasn’t working. The sharp, wheezing sound from Cirila’s throat tore through the air. She didn’t have much time left.

I looked around frantically. No one seemed to know what to do—or even care. To them, Cirila was just a frail human.

“I’m an engineer, not a doctor,” I thought, but I knew I had no choice. I had to act.

“Rafar, hold her!” I shouted, my hands trembling.

Rafar knelt and held Cirila’s head, his eyes locking onto mine, filled with urgency and determination. I grabbed a knife from the table and passed it over the flame of a candle.

Find the spot. I remembered seeing some of my classmates in medical school attempt a similar procedure, but I wasn’t sure of the exact location. The base of the throat or the top? My mind raced in panic.

“Here!” Rafar pointed to the base of the girl’s throat, and I hesitated no longer. Something in his tone left no room for doubt, even though I couldn’t fathom how he knew.

I made the incision with precision. Blood oozed out, hot and sticky, but I kept my hand steady. Some nobles turned away, and I could hear Eigar yelling at me, but I had to focus.

“I need something to keep the airway open!” I shouted, pointing at the fan in the hands of Larissa, who was nearby. “You! Give me the stem of your fan!”

She broke it and handed me the metallic piece. I quickly inserted it into the small incision.

For a moment, everything stopped. It felt like no air was passing, and silence filled the room. “I failed,” I thought. But then, a faint sound—a weak whistle—signaled Cirila’s first breath.

“She’s breathing!” someone shouted behind me.

The girl coughed, and her skin regained its rosy color. I collapsed to my knees, trembling, sweat dripping down my face. “How did I manage to do that? And how did he know where to cut?” I wondered as Rafar’s arms wrapped around me, steadying my shaking form.

For now, Cirila was alive, but the glances from the nobles made it clear this matter was far from over.