Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!

Chapter 189: Diana Langley, The Mother Who Never Gave Up

The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of the story settling over them, the ward's bustle a distant hum.

The second doctor then shook her head, her voice quiet but firm.

"If that had been me, hearing news like that about my child, I think I'd have broken. Most people would've fallen into despair, given up, let the grief swallow them whole...But not Lady Diana. She's made of something stronger."

"She refused to let her daughter go, refused to accept there was no hope. Instead, she took matters into her own hands...Can you believe it? A noblewoman, who'd never touched a medical text in her life, decided to study medicine herself, all for daughter's sake so that she could find a cure herself."

The first doctor's eyes widened, her voice tinged with awe.

"And not just study it, she mastered it. She threw herself into it, pouring hours, days, years into learning everything she could."

"I heard she barely slept, spent nights hunched over books, practicing techniques, consulting with the best physicians she could find. And she wasn't just good—she became one of the most talented doctors on the continent, and at such a young age!"

"They say she discovered cures for diseases that had stumped scholars for decades, invented treatment methods that left veteran doctors speechless."

"She became a legend in the medical world, a name whispered with reverence in every hall of learning. People still talk about her like she's some kind of miracle worker."

The third doctor sighed, her expression bittersweet as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"But even with all that brilliance, all those miracles, she couldn't find a cure for Vivi's illness. No matter how hard she tried, how many nights she spent in her study, how many experiments she ran—it wasn't enough."

"That must've been crushing, don't you think?...To reach such heights, to save so many lives, and still not be able to save the one that matters most."

The second doctor nodded, but her voice lifted, a spark of admiration cutting through the melancholy.

"And yet, she didn't let it break her. That's what sets her apart. She still believes there's a way, still searches for a cure for Vivi, even now...But more than that, she turned her pain into something greater."

"She used her skills, her power, her wealth, to build this hospital—a place where anyone, noble or commoner, can walk in and get treatment, no questions asked, no coin required...She funds it all herself, out of her own pocket, because she knows what it's like to feel helpless, to watch someone you love suffer."

"...She didn't want anyone else to feel that way."

The first doctor gestured around the ward, her voice swelling with pride.

"This place? It's the biggest hospital on the continent, a marvel of medicine, and it's all because of her. But it's not just this one—she's built smaller clinics, micro-hospitals, all over the land, so even the poorest villagers can get care."

"And the colleges of medicine she founded? We're all products of those, aren't we? She wanted young women like us to have a chance, to learn, to heal."

"...She's not just saving lives, she's building a legacy, a world where no one has to face illness alone."

The third doctor smiled, her eyes misty with emotion. "I remember when I first heard about her colleges." She said. "I was a nobody, a girl from a small town with no prospects...But I read about Lady Diana, about how she believed anyone could make a difference if given the chance."

"I applied to one of her schools, and here I am, standing in her hospital, living a dream I never thought possible. She's more than a doctor or a noble—she's a force, a light that keeps burning no matter what darkness comes her way."

The second doctor laughed softly, wiping at her eyes.

"You're right." She said. "She's an inspiration, plain and simple. And those patients out there, begging for a glimpse of her? They're not wrong to idolize her. She's earned every bit of their devotion."

"...I just hope we can do her justice, carrying on her work, making her proud."

The young doctors stood in their huddle, their laughter fading into a shared, reflective warmth as they contemplated Lady Diana Langley's legacy.

The hospital ward around them pulsed with its ceaseless energy—nurses weaving through beds, the clatter of a dropped tray, a child's soft sob, but their minds lingered on the woman who'd shaped this sanctuary.

One of them, her eyes bright with resolve, broke the silence.

"You know, if we could do even one percent of what she's done, we'd be legends in our own right."

Another nodded, her voice tinged with determination.

"Someday, we'll get there. Maybe not to her level, but close enough to make a difference. She's shown us it's possible." She glanced around the ward, her gaze sweeping over the patients, then back to her colleagues. "Speaking of, where is she right now? It's getting late, has she clocked out already?"

The first doctor shook her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

"Not a chance. Lady Diana never leaves early, not when there's work to be done. But I heard she's been at it all day, barely stopping for a breath. She's probably exhausted and she needs a break."

"But if I had to guess, she's probably in the children's ward. That's where she goes when she wants to recharge. It's her favorite place, isn't it? Reading to the kids, making them smile, she says it makes whatever she does feel worth it."

The others murmured in agreement, their faces softening at the thought, and the hospital's clamor faded as the focus turned to the children's ward, a quieter, gentler corner of the complex.

The ward was a haven of soft colors—walls painted with whimsical murals of forests and castles, shelves brimming with toys and books.

Rows of empty beds lined the room, their crisp linens untouched, for the children who should have been tucked in, but were instead gathered on the floor, their small bodies huddled in a semicircle, their eyes wide and rapt as they gazed in one direction.

At the center of their attention sat a woman of breathtaking beauty, sat gracefully on a wooden chair, a storybook cradled in her hands.

She could only be described to be devastatingly gorgeous, her face a portrait of kindness and serenity, with high cheekbones and a gentle, radiant smile that seemed to light the room.

Her dark eyes, deep and soulful, sparkled with warmth, framed by long lashes that fluttered as she read. Her grayish-brown hair was swept into an elegant bun with two delicate strands of hair framing her face, lending her an air of timeless grace, like a queen from a fairy tale.

Her presence was magnetic, exuding a maternal aura that enveloped the children, making them lean toward her as if drawn by an invisible thread.

But it wasn't just her face that captivated everyone.

Her body, soft and curvaceous, seemed to embody comfort itself.

Her plump figure, with a generous chest that strained subtly against her simple, elegant dress, suggested a warmth that could heal with a single embrace, as if a man could bury his face in her bosom and find solace from any wound.

Her hips and thighs, thick and rounded, spilled slightly over the edges of the chair, her voluptuous form radiating a nurturing, almost divine femininity.

Every curve, every gesture, spoke of a mother's love, a gentleness that could soothe the most restless heart.

This was Diana Langley, the legend whose name echoed through the hospital, the woman whose very presence was said to mend souls.

She was currently nearing the end of a fairy tale, her voice a melodic caress, soft yet clear, weaving the story's magic with each word.

"...And so, the brave knight returned to the kingdom, his heart full of love, knowing he'd found his true home..."

"...The end."

She read, her smile widening as she closed the book with a gentle thud. The children, their faces alight with wonder, stared at her as if she were their own mother, their eyes shining with adoration.

Diana then looked up, her gaze sweeping over the little audience, her smile warm and inviting.

"Well, my dears..." She said, her voice like a lullaby. "Did you like the story of the 'The Dragon Knight'?"

Hearing this, the children immidietly erupted in a chorus of excitement, their voices overlapping in a joyful cacophony.

"We loved it!" A boy shouted, his cheeks flushed.

"It was the best!" Chimed a girl, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

"Tell us another one, please!" They begged, their hands clapping, their eyes pleading.

And in response, she laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that seemed to ease the room's very air.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it." She said, her tone brimming with affection. "These books are special, you know...A very kind person donated them to our hospital, just for you."

"He wrote them himself, drew every picture, poured his heart into every page. We're lucky to have them, aren't we?"

Her eyes sparkled, but a flicker of something complex—gratitude mingled with unease, passed over her face as she mentioned the donor.

The children nodded eagerly, but their voices rose again, insistent as they didn't really care about the author, but the story itself.

"Another story! Please, Miss Diana, just one more!" They said in chorus, bouncing on their knees.

But she only shook her head, her smile gentle but firm.

"Not tonight, my loves." She said, holding up a hand. "If you want another story, you'll have to wait until tomorrow...But only if you behave yourselves—listen to the nurses, the doctors, and your parents. Do everything they ask, and I'll have a new tale ready for you."

"...Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" They shouted, their voices ringing with determination. "We'll be good! We promise!"

"Good." She said, her eyes crinkling with pride. She then glanced at the doctors and nurses hovering nearby, their faces soft with admiration, and nodded. "Alright, everyone, time for bed. Let's make sure these little ones sleep well tonight."

The staff moved swiftly, guiding the children back to their beds with gentle words and careful hands, the ward filling with the rustle of blankets and whispered goodnights.

Diana also rose from her chair, her movements graceful despite the weight of her curvaceous frame, and placed the storybook on a shelf behind her, its wooden expanse brimming with colorful volumes meant for the children.

But for some reason her fingers lingered on the book's spine, her expression shifting to one of mixed emotions—deep appreciation for the donor who'd crafted these treasures, who'd handwritten every word, illustrated every page with care.

She knew the effort it had taken, the love poured into each story, and it touched her heart.

Yet, a shadow crossed her face, a struggle she kept locked within.

The donor, a man of two sides—one generous, one troubling, stirred feelings she couldn't voice, a secret she guarded fiercely, even from herself.

And as she stood lost in thought, her gaze distant, a young messenger approached, his uniform marked with the insignia of the hospital's ether-based messaging system.

"Lady Diana..." He said, his voice hesitant. "A urgent message came from your estate."

She turned, her hand still resting on the shelf, her brow furrowing slightly. "Oh? What is it?" She asked, her tone calm but curious, expecting some routine update.

But little did she know that he was about to inform her about something that was the last thing she wishes for at the moment, because of how dangerous it was.

"It's...It's Young Master Cassius, my lady, the third son of the Holyfield family. He's arrived at your house and the head maid thought that you should know."

The moment these alarming words entered her ears, Diana's eyes widened, a flash of panic breaking through her graceful composure, a rare crack in the serene facade that left the messenger startled.

"C-Cassius? Young Master Cassius?" She whispered, her voice trembling. "Are you certain? That's what they said?"

The messenger nodded, taken aback by her reaction. "Yes, my lady. The message came directly from your estate. I'm sure of it. They told—"

But before he could say any more, Diana turned at full speed, her dress swirling as she sprinted from the ward, her footsteps echoing with urgent purpose.

Seeing her run off in a blitz, the doctors and nurses nearby froze, their eyes following her in stunned silence, the children also craning their necks from their beds.

The young doctors from earlier, still lingering near the ward's entrance, also exchanged bewildered glances as they saw her running towards the entrance of the hospital in a rush from afar, their earlier reverence giving way to confusion.

"What in the world?" One murmured, her brow furrowing. "I've never seen her run like that. Lady Diana, of all people—she's always so composed."

Another shook her head, her voice low with concern. "Something's wrong. If she's moving like that, it's serious. Life threatening, maybe. But what could it be?"

"I don't know." The first replied, her eyes still fixed on the doorway where Diana had vanished. "But whatever it is, it's got to be big. I've never seen her look so rattled."

"...I wonder what's happened to make her react like that."