There was more noise this time.

  Not because they were clumsy—

  but because they were carrying so much.

  Two people entered.

  A woman with a steady, unflinching gaze, her robe tied with one hand.

  And a man, slightly hunched, holding a basket full of jars, bandages, and a softly pulsing sphere.

  Real herbalists.

  Not apprentices.

  Not the 「decorative healers」 displayed at court.

  The woman didn’t hesitate.

  Whether the room was clean,

  whether I could withstand pain,

  whether conversation was needed or unnecessary—

  she assessed all of it with steps as natural as breathing.

  She stopped in front of the bed.

  「May I?」

  Just that.

  No bow.

  No ceremony.

  And she didn’t need any.

  I nodded.

  She sat beside me, checked the edge of the bandage at my side, and took out a jar of ointment.

  「This may sting a little.」

  It did.

  But I didn’t make a sound.

  Her hands were warm.

  Not cold.

  Not unsteady.

  So steady, in fact, that the certainty in her touch dulled the pain.

  「The bandage held well,」 she said.

  「But the swelling needs treatment.

  We’ll apply healing magic afterward. It won’t take long.」

  The man was already preparing the pulse sphere—

  a faintly wavering blue-white light, basic but efficient.

  She kept examining the injuries.

  Then she did something I didn’t expect.

  She leaned closer

  and brushed my bangs aside with the back of her hand.

  She was checking for cuts.

  I knew that.

  Inspection.

  Habit.

  Procedure.

  But her hand—

  held nothing.

  No intent.

  No pressure.

  No probing.

  Just warmth.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Quiet.

  Sincerity.

  I said nothing.

  Not until she murmured:

  「…How interesting.」

  A short pause.

  「Up close…

  you look a great deal like the princess.」

  My throat tightened.

  It didn’t show on my face,

  but a knot formed deep in my stomach.

  Not now.

  Not here.

  And then—a cough.

  Dry, deliberate.

  The older man.

  「A-ah—look at that. Clear skies this morning.

  They say everything looks different after rain washes it clean.

  Quite something, isn’t it?」

  She didn’t look at him.

  Not even a glance.

  She simply smiled to herself

  and continued adjusting the bandage on my leg as if she’d heard a comment about the weather from an empty room.

  When they applied the healing spell,

  a faint tingling spread beneath my skin.

  Not unpleasant—

  just… different.

  She covered me again with a light blanket and stood.

  「Do you think you can stand?

  We could share something warm. Nothing heavy.」

  For a moment, I wanted to refuse.

  I wanted distance.

  Isolation.

  But the thought of staying alone in that room—

  I couldn’t shake my head.

  I nodded.

  They helped me sit up.

  It wasn’t as difficult as I expected.

  The bandages tugged a little,

  but I could walk.

  We stepped into the hallway.

  The house was small.

  Everything connected by only a few steps.

  The dining area was at the back.

  When I entered, I stopped.

  There was warm bread.

  Stewed vegetables.

  Scrambled eggs on an earthen plate.

  And him.

  With his back to me,

  sleeves rolled to the elbow,

  quietly handling a pan with a calm I didn’t understand.

  Next to him stood the boy in pajamas—

  Nael, I remembered.

  Handing him ingredients, chatting about who-knows-what,

  laughing at his own jokes.

  Half apprentice cook, half improvised jester—

  probably both at once.

  The air smelled of herbs, broth, and ordinary life.

  And I—

  I stood there.

  Frozen.

  As if I had stepped into another world.

  No one asked my name.

  No one asked about my magic.

  No one demanded an explanation.

  They simply offered me a seat

  and placed a bowl in front of me.

  And I ate.

  Not out of courtesy.

  Not out of duty.

  Because I was hungry.

  And because the voices around me were gentle.

  Normal.

  Conversations without weight.

  Atmosphere without pressure.

  A kind of peace that,

  for someone like me—

  was strangely hard to find.