Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

"It's not a gathering? You brought me here to see something?"

Listening to James' words, Harold spoke with a puzzled expression. Having just arrived in Igwynt not long ago, he had received an invitation from James, one of Igwynt's prominent figures. He had assumed it would be a gathering of the city's upper class, yet instead, James had said he wanted to show him something. This left Harold somewhat confused.

"Uh… Mr. James, may I ask what exactly you want to show me…?" Harold asked in confusion as he glanced at the hospital behind James, wondering what there could possibly be to see in a hospital.

"Heh, please follow me."

Facing Harold's question, James smiled slightly, then turned and walked toward the hospital entrance. Seeing this, Harold, though puzzled, did not hesitate to follow.

Trailing behind James, Harold walked through the corridors of the Saint Tenet Hospital. The pungent smell of disinfectant made him pinch his nose, and he swept a look of disgust at the frail patients lying on the benches along the hallway. His eyes flashed with disdain at the commoners lined up in long queues for treatment. The noisy environment of this public hospital made him extremely uncomfortable. If not for the fact that James had invited him, he would have turned and left immediately.

Following James, Harold turned left and right through the hospital until they reached a secluded corridor. After passing through a large iron door guarded by security, they arrived at a special section with iron bars sealing its windows. Strange noises echoed through the space, as if many people were howling in the distance.

Entering this slightly eerie area, Harold felt a bit uneasy but still forced himself to follow James. Soon, they reached another corridor, where the rooms on one side all had heavy iron doors with barred windows, through which he could see the patients inside.

These patients were all children around ten years old. Each was confined to their own room—some wailing, some struggling, some biting their bed sheets, and some strapped tightly to their beds. The sounds of fists pounding on doors and agonized cries intertwined, painting a scene straight out of a madhouse.

"Mr. James, this is an asylum, isn't it? These are lunatics, aren't they? Why—why did you bring me to such a dangerous place?"

With a look of alarm, Harold turned to James, who responded calmly.

"Lord Harold, these are not lunatics. They are children whom Viscount Field adopted through his charitable efforts in recent years. Unfortunately, Viscount Field's carriage was attacked by a pack of wild wolves in the mountains, and he tragically passed away. These children were all in the carriage at the time, witnessing the brutal scene of wild beasts devouring people and the viscount's death. The trauma left them in this state."

James slowly explained, and upon hearing this, Harold paused for a moment before glancing at the children in the ward. He then forced a look of sympathy onto his face and spoke with a tone of regret.

"Oh… so these are the children that Viscount Field adopted. How pitiful. Born as orphans, they were finally taken in by my kind-hearted cousin and given a prosperous life, only for fate to be so cruel. Now, they've ended up in this miserable state. Will they have to live like this for the rest of their lives? Oh, Holy Father… why did You call back my benevolent cousin so soon? Could You not have let him do a few more good deeds on this earth?"

Harold sighed, his expression filled with emotion and sincerity. By the end, he even took out a handkerchief to dab at the corners of his eyes. Seeing this display, James spoke again.

"Lord Harold, there is no need to grieve. Their condition is not beyond hope. As long as they receive continuous treatment and sufficient funding, they all still have a chance to recover."

"What? They can still be cured?!" Harold blurted out in surprise at James' words, and James nodded slowly in confirmation.

"Yes. As long as the treatment continues, their symptoms at this stage are still reversible. However, this requires significant funding. Since they are not in a sound state of mind, they are unable to inherit Viscount Field’s properties.

"So, Lord Harold, if you do succeed in inheriting the properties in the future, I hope you will take on Viscount Gary Field’s responsibility and provide these children with the medical expenses needed for their treatment.

"Though the viscount is no longer with us, I believe his spirit of charity is something worth carrying on. Don’t you agree, Lord Harold?"

James turned to Harold, who visibly frowned at these words. He remained silent for a moment before speaking slowly.

"Ah… about that… Well, to be honest, Mr. James, you know as well as I do that Viscount Field passed away suddenly—he had no heirs, no will, and no close relatives. That means several of us distant relatives, including myself, have come to Igwynt to compete for his inheritance. The competition is quite fierce, and I don’t even know if I’ll win in the end. So, I can't make any promises here. If I fail to inherit the properties but have made commitments, that would just make me a laughingstock.”

"I think, Mr. James, you should perhaps speak with some of the other claimants instead. They might have a better chance than I do."

With a polite smile, Harold said this to James, who responded quietly.

"I have already approached the others. They either rejected me outright or gave answers similar to yours. Lord Harold, you are now these children's only hope."

"Ah… you’ve already asked them all?" Harold was slightly taken aback by James' words. He glanced around anxiously before turning back to James with a grin.

"Haha… Mr. James, I think it’s still a bit too early to discuss this matter. Let’s wait until I officially confirm my inheritance first."

At Harold’s response, James’ expression darkened, and he replied, "Sir Harold, compared to Viscount Field’s wealth, the cost of treatment is a mere pittance. Spending such a small amount to earn a good reputation—are you really not considering it?"

"If I’m going to consider it, it will be after I inherit the properties. In any case, now is not the time. Oh, and—I just remembered something urgent I need to attend to, so I’ll be taking my leave here, Mr. James."

With an obvious attempt to brush him off, Harold spoke to James. He then gave a slight bow and prepared to leave. Seeing this, James tried to stop him.

"Wait a moment, Harol—"

"There’s no need to stop him, Mr. James."

At that moment, a clear, youthful voice rang out from the other end of the corridor. Upon hearing it, both James and Harold paused and turned toward the source of the voice.

Standing at the far end of the hallway was a small figure.

Dressed in a white hospital gown, with a thin frame, long, flowing blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, before them stood a girl of about ten years old.

"You are… one of the children?" James murmured, trying to recall. Meanwhile, Harold, who had been preparing to leave, scowled at the scene before him and spoke harshly.

"Where did this brat come from, daring to interrupt our conversation?!"

At Harold’s words, the girl gave a slight bow, then straightened her back and introduced herself.

"My name is Anna Field. I am the seventh adopted child whom my respected father, Lord Gary Field, publicly and legally acknowledged before the esteemed gentlemen of Igwynt. And now, I am also his only rightful and legitimate heir—the next Viscount Field."

As she spoke, Anna turned her gaze toward James, who looked at her in astonishment. She continued speaking.

"Mr. James, you do not need to place your hopes in outsiders. These poor, tormented souls are my brothers and sisters—I will not abandon them."