The Substitute Healer (BL)

Chapter 112: “I made a grave mistake… to someone.”

Cedric had long ceased to think of himself as merely a servant of the Davenmore household.

Over the years, he had become something far more personal, far more deeply rooted in the family’s life like a quiet presence that endured through time, loss, and change.

To Alaric, Cedric was not simply a butler who managed the estate with unwavering precision. He was a steady figure of guidance, someone who had watched over him since childhood and someone who had stood close enough to feel like a second father.

His loyalty to the Davenmore family stretched back many years, long before Alaric had even been born.

Cedric had once served Alaric’s grandparents with the same unwavering devotion, attending to their needs with careful diligence and silent understanding. When their time passed, he remained. He continued his service under Alaric’s parents while preserving the household’s traditions, witnessing the family’s triumphs and tragedies alike.

And when the next generation came, when Alaric inherited not only the name but also the burdens that came with it, Cedric was still there, steady as ever. Three generations had lived under his watchful care, and through it all, he had come to know Alaric better than most.

He had seen the boy grow, had watched the shaping of his temperament, the hardening of his views and the deepening of emotions that never quite softened with time.

Cedric knew Alaric’s disposition toward commoners not from rumor or distant observation, but from firsthand experience. He had witnessed the cold indifference, the sharp mockery and the moments of deliberate humiliation. He had seen Alaric discard people as though their dignity meant nothing, ignore their pleas, and at times, harass them without hesitation.

And yet, Cedric never spoke against him.

Or probably, he could not.

For though he recognized the cruelty in his master’s actions, he also carried his own bitterness, one rooted in grief that had never fully healed.

The deaths of the former duke and duchess had left scars that time failed to erase. The circumstances surrounding their passing, tied to the actions of certain commoners had planted a deep resentment within Cedric’s heart.

In the silent corners of his mind, he had cursed those responsible countless times, wishing them suffering and wishing them ruin. He knew, in truth, that justice had already been delivered to those who caused the tragedy and their punishment had come and gone.

The matter should have ended there but emotions did not obey reason.

Even Cedric, who prided himself on discipline and restraint, found it difficult to let go of the anger that had once consumed the household. And if he, who stood at a distance, struggled to move forward... how much harder must it have been for Alaric, who had borne the loss so personally?

Still, Cedric could see what others might not, that Alaric’s hatred had not faded with time. It had not dulled, nor had it softened into something quieter. Instead, it had deepened, growing heavier, more intense while consuming with each passing year. What began as grief had hardened into something far more enduring, something that shaped the man Alaric had become.

Neither of them had truly moved on.

The past lingered like a shadow that refused to lift while binding both master and servant to memories they could neither forget nor forgive. And though Cedric remained by Alaric’s side as he always had, steady and loyal through every passing season, he could not deny the quiet truth that settled heavily in his chest.

Some wounds, no matter how much time passed, simply refused to heal.

Yet in the days following his return from the North, Cedric found himself witnessing something he had never seen before, the quiet unraveling of a man who had always been immovably composed.

Alaric had never been one to falter outwardly.

He carried himself with control so natural that even grief and anger had always seemed carefully contained, like storms locked behind iron doors. But now, that familiar steadiness was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Cedric often caught his master lost in silence with unfocused gaze as though his thoughts had drifted somewhere far beyond the walls of the estate. There were moments when Alaric would simply sit still for long stretches of time, unmoving and unresponsive. He’s not resting, but not entirely present either.

His once sharp and commanding presence had grown faintly hollow and his features were more drawn with each passing day.

He looked gaunt. Tired in a way that sleep could not mend.

Cedric noticed it most in the mornings.

Whenever he entered Alaric’s chamber to wake him, he rarely found him in bed. Instead, the young master would be slumped along the couch, still dressed from the night before with the faint scent of alcohol lingering heavily in the air.

Bottles of hard liquor cluttered the table nearby where some are empty as silent proof of restless nights spent awake rather than asleep.

It was not mere indulgence and Cedric could tell because Alaric wasn’t really fond of drinks.

Alaric was not drinking for pleasure.

What troubled Cedric most was just how heavy whatever was weighing on Alaric seemed to be. He carried himself like someone drowning in thoughts too deep to set aside and too private to ever speak aloud. His mind was always somewhere else while turning over something unseen and unresolved.

And that made it all the more unsettling because Cedric couldn’t figure out what had caused such a change.

Alaric had always been like this in one way.

He never shared his burdens.

Never complained and asked for comfort. If something troubled him, he dealt with it alone. As long as he believed he could handle it, he would keep everything locked inside while letting no one see past the walls he built around himself.

Cedric had learned long ago not to pry. But this felt different like something that was slowly consuming him.

And it wasn’t only Alaric who had changed.

The twins were acting strange too.

Lyric and Sylas, who normally carried themselves with ease and confidence, now seemed tense all the time, like something invisible was pressing down on them. They spoke less. Their expressions often looked distant and their reactions were just a little too slow, as if their thoughts were somewhere far away.

Sometimes, Cedric would catch them exchanging brief glances that seemed to carry things left unsaid.

Whatever had happened in the North hadn’t left them untouched.

Something had followed them back. Not something physical or Cedric would have noticed that. But something unseen had settled over them all the same, like a shadow that simply refused to fade.

Cedric didn’t know what it was.

But he knew one thing for certain. The atmosphere in the household had changed. Subtle, but impossible to ignore. The usual rhythm of daily life felt strained, like something fragile had quietly shifted out of place.

And for the first time in many years, Cedric felt deeply unsettled not because he understood what troubled his masters but because he didn’t.

Until one day, Alaric asked something that Cedric was waiting for.

"Cedric... what do you think I should do in a situation like this?"

It happened so suddenly that Cedric found himself at a loss for words. The sight of Alaric’s expression alone made his thoughts scatter. His master sat there sighing heavily with one hand pressed against his temple while his elbow rested on the table.

It was obvious that something was wrong and yet Cedric still couldn’t grasp the reason behind it.

He hesitated for only a moment before speaking gently.

"What happened, Your Grace? You know my ears are always ready to listen. You may tell me anything... and I will simply listen."

At those words, Alaric slowly leaned back in his chair. His gaze lifted to meet Cedric’s, and up close, the exhaustion in his face was impossible to miss. He looked gaunt, worn down, like someone who had been carrying something far too heavy for far too long.

"I think..." Alaric’s voice faltered slightly. "I made a grave mistake... to someone."

Cedric blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, with quiet sincerity, he asked,

"What could a Duke possibly do wrong, Your Grace?"

With Cedric standing before him, Alaric finally had someone to share his thoughts with. And though Cedric quickly realized that his master wasn’t telling him everything, he could at least start to grasp what was happening, piece by piece, as time passed.

Meanwhile, Soren was having a conversation with a woman who introduced herself as Maristella. She didn’t give her noble surname but just from her posture and the way she carried herself, Soren could tell she was no ordinary person.

"How was your stay here? Was everything to your liking? This place is so peaceful that even I always wish I could come here just to unwind," Maristella said while settling into her seat with a gentle smile as her eyes casually scanned the surroundings.

Though she didn’t mean to make Soren uncomfortable, her elegance and natural authority had that exact effect on him, and even on Elias.

And though they had been talking for some time, Soren couldn’t understand why someone so noble would spend her precious time on someone like him. When Maristella noticed the discomfort radiating from both Soren and Elias, she simply smiled and let out a soft chuckle, as if to ease the tension without saying a word.

"Hmm, you two, why don’t you accompany me to the nearby villages here?"