The Head Butler's mind spiraled into a dark pit as he sat cross-legged, his thoughts heavy with fear and dread. The toll of repeatedly channeling his mana into the symbol weighed on him, leaving him to wonder if his body could endure such strain for long.
The faint red glow of the symbol on the Young Miss's back pulsed softly, serving as a reminder of his daunting responsibility.
While the Head Butler fought his own internal battle, the Duke had other concerns occupying his mind. Sitting with his recovering daughter in his arms, he could not rest easy with just signs of improvement—he desired nothing less than her complete recovery.
Turning his intense gaze toward Ashok, he broke the silence. "If this symbol is drawn to buy time, then how long will it take until my daughter is completely cured?"
