What do you mean want?
Chapter Twenty–One
Dr. Corvus stiffened, his pride warring with the fear flickering in his eyes. “Miss Moretti, I-”
Catherine’s father cut him off, his voice like iron. “You disgraced this family and endangered our patriarch. You are finished here, Corvus. From this day forward, you will never again set foot in a Morritis household.”
Dr. Corvus’s face turned ashen, his career crumbling before him. His disciples shifted uneasily, some even stepping away from him as if afraid to share in his downfall
Adrian, quiet through it all, finally spoke. “Exile is punishment enough. Men like him destroy themselves without help.”
His calm dismissal stung worse than any curse. Dr. Corvus bowed his head, humiliated, and staggered out of the ward with his disgraced disciple crawling after him.
The family turned back to Adrian. Gratitude, awe, and no small amount of fear shone in their eyes.
Catherine’s grandfather, still weak but sitting upright now fixed Adrian with a steady gaze. “Young man… our family owes you a debt of life. Whatever you ask of us in the future… it will be yours.”
Catherine, unable to stop the tears streaming down her face, whispered, “Adrian… thank you. Truly.”
The Morritis estate quieted after the storm of the night.
The ward smelled faintly of disinfectant. Everyone mute witnesses of the miracle they had just seen.
While the rest of the family busied themselves fussing over the recovering patriarch, Marco lingered at the doorway, his expression unusually stiff. His pride, bruised earlier by Adrian’s merciless diagnosis, gnawed at him. But now, with his grandfather alive because of this same man, the bitterness in his chest had been replaced with something else.
Maybe Hope.
Marco glanced around carefully, making sure the others were distracted. Then, shoulders tense, he approached Adrian, who stood quietly near the window.
“Adrian,” Marco muttered, his voice low.
Adrian didn’t turn. “What is it?”
Marco hesitated, his face flushing. His usual arrogance seemed to collapse under the weight of what he was about to say. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Adrian.
“You… you were right. About me. The thing you said earlier.” His jaw clenched. “It’s true.”
Adrian’s gaze slid toward him, sharp and calm. “Your body is already weakened. Years of indulgence have drained. your vitality. If you keep going the way you are, you’ll be completely useless within a year.”
Marco’s ears burned. “Damn it, don’t say it out loud!” he hissed, glancing nervously toward his relatives. “If they hear-”
Adrian’s lips curved faintly. “Then you shouldn’t have come to me in a crowded ward.”
Marco gritted his teeth, swallowing his embarrassment. “Can you fix it? Tell me the truth. Is there a way?”
For the first time, Adrian’s tone softened though only slightly. “There’s a method. But it won’t be easy, and it won’t be quick. You’ll need discipline, or else it won’t matter what I prescribe.”
Marco leaned forward eagerly, “Tell me. I’ll do anything.”
+25 Bonus
Adrian studied him for a long moment, as if measuring the ruth of those words. Finally, he spoke
“First, no wine. Not a drop. Second, no women your body an’t endure it. Third, I’ll give you a regimen of medicinal baths. You’ll soak in a mixture of ginseng, goji, d deer antler essence three times a week to restore what you’ve lost. Along with that, I’ll teach you a breathing technique. Every morning before sunrise, you’ll sit cross–legged, draw your breath into your dantlan, and circulate it twelve times.”
Marco blinked. “So… no wine, no women, weird baths, and breathing?”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If you treat it as a joke, don’t waste my time,”
“No, no!” Marco shook his head furiously, desperation flashing in his eyes. “I’ll do it. I swear. If this works, if f can… be a man again, I’ll reward you handsomely. Money, properties–name it!”
Adrian’s voice stayed flat. “I don’t need your money.”
Marco froze, baffled. “Then… what do you want?”
But Adrian didn’t answer. His attention had already shifted back to the patriarch, who had stirred from his rest.
The old man raised his head weakly, his eyes clearing further with each passing minute. His voice, though rough, carried strength. “Adrian Cole.”
Adrian stepped closer. “Sir.”
The grandfather’s weathered hand reached out, gripping Adrian’s wrist with surprising firmness. “You pulled me back from death’s door. The Morritis family owes you a deb that cannot be measured. Tell me what you desire. Wealth? Power? A position in the family? Speak it, and it will be yours.”
The room hushed. Everyone turned to look at Adrian, curiosity and suspicion mingling in their eyes.
But Adrian shook his head slowly. “I don’t want money. I don’t need power.”
A ripple of shock went through the family. Marco’s jaw dropped. Even Catherine’s mother blinked in disbelief.
Adrian’s gaze was steady, unshakable. “There are herbs I need. Rare ones. They’re not found in markets or sold in clinics. But a family with the reach of the Morritis might know where to look.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Herbs?”
Adrian inclined his head. “Find them for me, and I will consider the debt repaid.”
For a moment, silence hung in the ward. Then the patriarch let out a deep, raspy laugh that rolled through the
room.
“Boy,” he said, still chuckling, “you’re stranger than any healer I’ve met in my life. But I like you. Very well. You will have my support. Whatever herbs you need, we’ll find them–no matter how rare.”
Relief and excitement flickered in Catherine’s eyes. Marco scratched the back of his neck, muttering, “Who the hell asks for weeds instead of gold…”
But Adrian only turned back toward the window, his expression unreadable. In his chest, however, a spark of resolve burned brighter.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
