The following day, Jeremiah went to the Royal Medical Department.

All the court physicians, including the head physician, were present. Jeremiah sat, his gaze heavy as he surveyed them all.

"I have only one question for you," he began. "Do you have any hope of curing His Majesty's illness?" The physicians fell into a long silence. After what seemed like an eternity, the head physician, Desmond Walker, looked up with tired eyes. The red veins around them were a testament to sleepless nights. He shook his head.

"No, we do not."

"Not even a glimmer of hope?" Jeremiah asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Not even the smallest chance, a method, anything?"

Once again, the room was filled with silence. Jeremiah's eyes dimmed, his expression sinking until it was devoid of light. With a deep sigh, he finally spoke, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Can you extend his life for two more years if we gather the full strength of the Royal Medical

Department?"

Desmond bowed his head, his face filled with shame. "Mr. Murray, this illness is fierce once it flares up. Forget two years-even a single year...would be difficult."

This time, it was Jeremiah's turn to fall silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice sharp with authority. "Keep your mouths shut about this."

He slowly walked out of the Royal Medical Department, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. The chill in the air was biting, a reminder that the year was drawing to a close. The cold seemed to seep into his very bones, relentless and unyielding.

Victoria might have seemed indifferent to the things around her, but the lights in the Royal Medical Department had been on all night, and none of the royal physicians had left during that time.

She knew something had happened.

She claimed she was feeling dizzy and called for Desmond to attend her. After he arrived and examined her, he said, "It's likely because you didn't sleep well, Your Majesty."

He stood stiffly as he already understood-Victoria had sensed something. Now, he was just waiting for her to ask. He had served in the palace long enough to know that very little could truly be kept from Victoria-unless she chose not to know.

Victoria dismissed everyone from the room, leaving him alone with her. The sunlight was faint, tempered by the sharp, cold wind that made even the rays of light seem frigid.

"Speak," she ordered, sitting straight, her eyes trained on the dark circles beneath Desmond's eyes. "What illness does the king have, that it requires so many physicians to stay up all night discussing?" Desmond hesitated for a moment before responding. "Your Majesty, His Majesty has only been-" "No nonsense," Victoria interrupted sharply.

Desmond's shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyes reddened. He choked out the words, barely above a whisper. "A lung disease."noveldrama

Victoria trembled violently at the words. Her fingers tightened around the armrests, the tips turning white from the pressure. Her voice, though steady, held a barely noticeable tremor.

"How will it be treated?"

Desmond lowered his gaze, his voice almost a whisper. "We are...still trying to find a solution."

Victoria closed her eyes, her complexion draining of color, her lips turning pale. For a long moment, she sat in silence. Finally, she asked, "How long?"

Once she had her answer, Victoria

stood abruptly. Tears filled her eyes but she held them back fiercely, refusing to let them fall. She

someone to ask where Salvanet

dismissed Desmond and called for

was. When she learned he was still in the royal study, she quickly made her way there with Keith.

Her usually straight posture now appeared slightly hunched, weighed down by the news she had just learned.

As soon as Salvador saw Victoria enter the royal study, he understood that she knew.

He stood to greet her, even offering a smile. "Is something wrong? Why not just send someone to call me

for dinner? There was no need for you to come all the way here yourself."

The study was filled with the smell

of scented candles, though it couldn't quite mask the lingering faint smell of medicine. Victoria's eyes landed on the empty medicine bowls still sitting on the desk, and the dam holding back her tears finally broke.

Salvador's heart twisted at the sight, and he immediately sent his attendants away. He moved to help her

sit before he knelt in front of her. His voice cracked as he spoke.

"I have failed you, Mom."

Victoria gazed at him, her eyes drawn to the few strands of white in his hair. She whispered softly, "My son, you already have white hair."

Salvador smiled, but tears rolled down his face. "It means I've grown up."

Victoria quickly wiped her tears away and gently helped him back to his feet. "Sit. Stay and keep me company."

He sat beside her, and they clasped hands. The sorrow in Victoria's eyes was undeniable, though she tried to hide it.

"Since I turned ten, I've never held your hand like this," Salvador said, his gaze lingering on their joined hands, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

Victoria tightened her grip on his

hand. "Yes. Right after your tenth birthday, you told me you were a man now. You said you couldn't always cling to me, that you had to work hard and become a sonyour dad could be proud of."

Salvador's eyes dimmed, and he said softly, "Dad would never be proud of me."