"So, Alicia, who usually has convulsions at night… had them this afternoon instead?"
Nolan furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
"Huh..." Orlan let out a long breath before answering, "Yes, that's right, Prince Nolan."
He looked down at his little daughter, still lying unconscious, and gently stroked her cold, fragile, round face.
"I can't stand seeing her like this anymore. Please, Prince… I'm begging you. Can you start the healing now? I know it's sudden and goes against our agreement, but I just can't take it."
Gritting his teeth, Orlan suddenly dropped to his knees, about to kowtow—but Nolan quickly stepped forward and stopped him.
"Don't do that, Marquis Orlan," Nolan said, his tone laced with displeasure. "I've told you before—I don't like being treated this way. It makes me uncomfortable when people are overly formal."
He helped Orlan back to his feet and let out a weary sigh, his expression tinged with helplessness.
