NRAL | Chapter 94

He Didn’t Die

Posted by LUNA, Released on August 31, 2025

~Chapter 94~

He Didn’t Die

“Move aside! Out of the way!”

“Doctor, please, take this first—!”

Life is an unpredictable thing.

People collapse from something as minor as a cold, yet somehow survive the most unimaginable disasters. That’s the strange nature of human life.

Watching the doctors rushing in and out of Damian’s room, Eleanor was once again struck by that truth.

It was truly amazing.

‘Damian didn’t die.’

Yes, even after everything that happened to him, Damian came back alive. Disgustingly persistent, really.

Here’s what happened:

“I saved the nobleman! I had an early business this morning—thank the heavens! If I hadn’t passed by, the Astria heir would’ve been dog food by now!”

While dogs were attacking Damian, a man from a nearby club had entered the alley to secretly meet a married woman with whom he was having an affair. He screamed at the shocking scene, and the startled dogs fled.

The man recognized Damian’s face, reported it immediately to the guards, and by a stroke of luck, Damian was brought home and received emergency treatment.

‘I’m not sure who’s the lucky one in this.’

With a faint smile, Eleanor turned away from Damian’s door.

At that moment, her eyes met Nora’s—Nora, who stood not far away, chewing her lips nervously.

‘Didn’t you say you’d handle it?’

Nora’s glare seemed to shout.

She looked extremely anxious. Clearly terrified that Damian would recover, recount everything that had happened, and expose her crimes.

In contrast, Eleanor’s expression remained perfectly calm and composed. Unlike Nora, she already knew the rough situation—thanks to Milo.

According to him, Damian couldn’t even move a finger at the time. He couldn’t form words, just mumbled nonsense. Completely helpless.

Eleanor remembered vividly how Damian had fallen.

He had slammed his head on a sharp step and hit his neck and back hard. He’d been left untreated and torn apart by dogs.

Even if fate spared his life, recovery—at least the kind Nora feared—was impossible. Except if heaven comes down and gives him a miracle.

‘And even then, I could just cut out his tongue myself.’

No need to worry.

With that thought, Eleanor calmly passed Nora, who was still glaring, and returned to her room, ignoring the frantic staff running back and forth.

She lay down on her soft bed and finally got some much-needed sleep.

That morning, for the first time in years, Eleanor did not dream even a single nightmare.

It was the best sleep she’d had in a long time.

***

One day later.

The Duke of Astria returned in a hurry after hearing what had happened to his son.

Still in his travel clothes, he rushed to Damian’s room—only to find his son bandaged from head to toe, lying completely still.

Though conscious, Damian just stared blankly at the ceiling. Only after some time did his eyes slowly move to recognize his father. Then he opened his mouth and said,

“Aah… aaagh…”

He couldn’t move his head. He could only groan and whimper.

The sight was shocking.

The Duke stood frozen, unable to move, as if he’d turned to stone.

He had once vowed to punish his runaway son, to beat him senseless, to make sure Damian would never again dare to defy him. He had even planned to lock him in his room indefinitely.

But this…

He had never once imagined his heir would end up like this—unable even to leave his bed on his own.

“You…”

The duke’s deep voice trembled. His large hands shook uncontrollably.

For a long time, the man known for never hesitating in speech opened his mouth without a sound.

“Why… why did this happen…?”

He had given Damian everything.

So why had his son returned to him like this?

There was no one who could answer. No one who could explain.

“Aah… aaah… urgh…!”

Damian let out a string of frantic cries, full of frustration and rage.

He clearly wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

The Duke couldn’t bear to hear that wretched noise. With a cold expression, he turned away.

Damian’s blue eyes — so much like his mother’s — desperately followed his father, but the Duke ignored them and walked out.

“His condition?”

He asked the physician, who stood nearby with his head bowed, clearly afraid to speak.

The doctor swallowed hard before finally answering.

“The young master has sustained serious trauma to both his head and spinal cord. Unfortunately, the damage is high up in the spine… he has lost all motor function in both arms and legs. The prognosis is… very poor. Cases like this have little hope of recovery or rehabilitation…”

“So what you’re telling me,” the Duke interrupted, his fists clenching tightly, “is that my son—the heir to Astria—will be like that for the rest of his life? Unable to speak, to move, or even control his own waste? Can’t feed himself? Just a beast in a man’s body?”

“H-he can understand speech. Likely, the part of the brain responsible for language production was damaged when he hit his head. So he can understand but not speak—”

“Even dogs can understand speech!”

SLAM!

The Duke smashed the side table by the bed with a single blow. The solid wooden furniture cracked with a loud snap.

Even that didn’t cool his rage. He stood, breathing heavily, consumed by a storm of fury.

His son had become a useless cripple.

The only heir of Astria was now beyond repair.

It was impossible to say whether he grieved more for his son’s ruined life — or for the loss of a successor.

Either way, the Duke of Astria was screaming in pain and fury.

And so, to calm that maddening rage, he began his search for the culprit.

Who had done this to Damian?

The butlers testified that Damian had returned home briefly before dawn and then left again for Salisbury. At the time, he hadn’t seemed too unwell—he had a wound on his face, but nothing life-threatening.

The physician confirmed that the dogs weren’t the ones who caused Damian’s main injuries.

The doctor said the major injuries to his head and spine happened before the dog attack. He’d shown no signs of resisting the dogs — meaning he’d already been paralyzed when they bit him.

Which meant Damian had already lost motor function before the dogs attacked.

He had been paralyzed and helpless when he was found.

Sure, maybe he’d fallen by accident—but the Duke refused to accept that.

The sudden appearance of fighting dogs? Far too suspicious.

‘Someone released the dogs to cover up the crime.’

And being a sharp man himself, the Duke quickly arrived at a theory not too far from the truth.

But Eleanor—equally sharp—had already set up the road for where that suspicion would fall.

Someone who had a bad relationship with Damian.

Someone who was in Salisbury that night.

Someone familiar enough with the underworld to unleash fighting dogs unnoticed.

All clues pointed to one man.

Baron Roni Griffith.

That night, Baron Griffith happened to be gambling at a nearby den.

His presence in Salisbury at that hour had been coincidental—but Eleanor and Milo had already calculated that into their plan. After all, Griffith visited Salisbury’s gambling halls almost daily. It wasn’t a coincidence—it was strategy.

Even better, help came from an unexpected source.

“They say Baron Griffith and the Astria heir got into another fight in the streets.”

“Yes, I heard that too! Apparently there were several witnesses!”

A rumor had spread throughout Cardiff that Damian and Griffith had a second fight in Salisbury’s backstreets.

Jasper, Nora’s thug acquaintance, had fabricated the story, which had spread.

“Tell Jasper to spread the word,” Eleanor had said.

“Make it sound like Damian and Griffith fought again. Say a few people witnessed it.”

When Eleanor brought up Griffith, Nora had gone visibly tense, unsure if Eleanor had found out he was one of her informants. But even if she was suspicious, Nora couldn’t say no. The plan was simply too airtight.

Griffith was the perfect scapegoat. A bad relationship with Damian. Presence in the right place at the right time. And a reputation seedy enough to make anything believable.

Eventually, Nora agreed.

Jasper carried out the task perfectly. The rumor made its way throughout Cardiff and landed directly at the Duke’s feet.

And so, the Duke became absolutely convinced:

Baron Roni Griffith was the one who had destroyed his heir.

“Bring me that bastard. I want Baron Griffith dragged before me!”

Some aides tried to stop him, knowing how dangerous it could be to act without proof.

“But Your Grace, we have no evidence! Only gossip. There’s no actual witness—”

“Circumstantial evidence is enough.”

The Duke was not the type to listen once he’d made up his mind.

“That scum tried to ruin my house. If there’s no proof, then make some. Drag him in front of me and make him beg on his knees.”

His voice was fierce, like a beast.

And so, with no other choice, the Astria retainers bowed and obeyed.