8 Repercussions

Everyone turned in the direction of the scream and Mattheus could hear the confusing shouts and feminine exclamations of fear and worry rippling out.

Edgar, considering his position, quickly excused himself before rushing toward the epicenter of the incident—whatever it was.

"I suppose we should follow and see too?" Albert IV voiced.

"Yes, of course," Duchess Sophily started following where Edgar ran ahead with the Crown couple keeping pace.

Mattheus, out of a lack of any other choice, trailed after them.

It was usually not a great idea to run toward the scream but at least he didn't hear continued screams—just confused murmuring that quickly started to change as what was happening was spread from person to person.

He could reassure himself it wasn't something super dangerous like Patient Zero of a zombie apocalypse, even if he was wondering if some higher power was purposely making it difficult for him to complete what should be a simple quest.

Just greet the Duchess. That was all he needed to do. But no…


"Is he going to be alright?"

"The General—"

"—are the physicians?"

"—the Mithral diplomat—"

"—going to help?"

Did General Grant get hurt in some way?

"Make room! Give him space!" That was Edgar.

"Duchess!" a man walked up and whispered into her ear as they came upon a rough circle clear of people.

Mattheus looked around and immediately spotted Marquess Illarion Snowe, who seemed to prefer austere black even at a royal ball. Like his older brother, the marquess was keeping a perimeter and an eye on their surroundings.

Countess Crown stayed by the Duchess's side, murmuring about the palace doctor.

Earl Crown had walked toward the small group at the center of the cleared area, kneeling down to check on the General.

When Mattheus shifted his eyes to figure out the issue, he saw the face of General Grant and—

"William Grant?"

"Yes, what do you know about the General? Favorite foods? Allergies?"

"It's pretty well-known General Grant can never turn down mushroom pie. As for allergies… I think he might be allergic to shellfish. He never is seen eating it."

—Mattheus trembled. That was not a "might be" at all. The gentleman in his forties was clearly deathly allergic. And it would be so easy to mix in poisonous mushrooms if that was his favorite food.

The random trivia that kept running through his mind at the sight of people took on another, much more ominous, light.

Was this an assassination attempt framed as an accident? A so-called, perfect crime?

Because the Original revealed such information… was this the result?

Was it Mattheus Crown's fault?

"Mattheus!" Earl Crown called for his youngest son as he knelt by the General.

Stiffly, automatically, he walked toward his father when his name was called. As he got closer, it made the signs of anaphylactic shock all the more apparent.

The last few steps, Mattheus almost took at a run as he went to his knees and checked the General unceremoniously. He opened the man's mouth and noted the weakening efforts to breathe.

"They've called for a royal physician and he should be arriving any minute."

"I don't think he'll have a minute," Mattheus grimly stated as he calculated the time. Assuming the scream was when the man started showing signs of an allergic reaction, it had already been five minutes.

There also seemed to be some other underlying malady half-masked by the extreme allergic reaction. The twitching muscles and tension at the neck… it almost looked like the result of a nerve agent?

"What did he eat?" Mattheus asked quickly.

"The mushroom tart," somebody answered.

"Confiscate it for analysis—"

Albert IV, who had been paying attention to Mattheus, looked down when his son suddenly stopped talking and noticed what Mattheus did a beat after. "He's stopped breathing."

Mattheus felt for a pulse as his thoughts raced.

Where was that palace doctor?

Would it even help? It wasn't like this world had EpiPens.

"Endlewood!" Albert IV suddenly called out.

And Mattheus had focused long enough for the passive of Dedicated Student to trigger. It was a kind of natural equivalent to the Sense or Observe ability in games. So he now knew for a fact that General William Grant was poisoned.

They would not be able to help the General even if they somehow managed to deal with the anaphylactic shock. William Grant was going to die.


Mattheus could do something thanks to the Healing Magic Mastery.

His hands started to shimmer with what looked like stardust.

"Wait, Mattheus!" his father started urgently.

He ignored the older man, considering this required actual focus. An organophosphate that disrupted the signals to the nervous system he had to remove and fix what it interrupted. Simulating the effect of drugs to address the allergic reaction even faster than the modern medicine he knew could do.

Mattheus didn't even realize he was holding his breath until General Grant took a deep inhale before sputtering.

He exhaled a gusty whoosh as he slumped slightly from relief. Somehow, he managed to not only save someone but fix a mistake the Original caused.

"W-What…?" General Grant tried to ask as he coughed.

Mattheus automatically tried to give him a comforting smile. "It's alright now, General. Do you need help getting up?"


He turned to look at Edgar, who had been the one to call him, and seemed to remember where they were at upon seeing the slight worry in his older brother's expression.

The noise of the crowd around them started to filter into his ears again. His anxiety shot up immediately at the realization they were talking about him.


Did everyone manage to see him use his healing magic? He didn't think it was all that showy but he also couldn't be sure, as he had ended up closing his eyes to focus on General Grant's internals.

A dark shape closing in had Mattheus shift his gaze from the eyes of the crowd to see it was Illarion Snowe. His brother's friend since childhood leaned to murmur something in Edgar's ear.

Edgar nodded to whatever the fair-haired marquess said. "Thanks, Ill."

The marquess then turned his cold gaze to Mattheus. "Get up, Mattheus Crown."

The transmigrator did as told and followed the darkly dressed nobleman as he started walking.

The crowd parted for Illarion Snowe—and it was honestly an impressive sight—so Mattheus kept close to the older man.

He felt the heavy weight of countless gazes on him as they walked, until they finally were cut off from the attendees by a wall.

Leaving the ballroom, the pair walked through several hallways before Illarion opened a set of doors.

A glance past the doors told Mattheus it was one of the resting rooms. A resting room already occupied by a couple.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Mattheus wasn't actually sure, Illarion basically intimidated the couple (Lady Blake and her probably newest lover) to leave. Soon, it was just Mattheus and Marquess Snowe in the resting room.

… Mattheus really needed to figure out what exactly this man did. Both Edgar and Illarion were military men but their reputations sure looked different.

There was an increasingly uncomfortable silence as Marquess Snowe stared at Mattheus like he was trying to unravel a puzzle.

Finally, Mattheus couldn't stand it anymore. "Um. Ah… Was it obvious what I did? I mean, did I reveal the change of my Color?"


"Er, yes?"

"Why did you do that?" Illarion Snowe asked with a furrow at his brows.

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