Chapter 27
“All right, let's treat him. Come with me.”
Chris locked his office and strode down the corridor.
We crossed a covered walkway and entered the building next door.
It was a private chapel, furnished only with a small altar and several benches.
We passed by its quiet interior, and soon stopped before a heavy door.
A holy knight who recognized Chris silently pushed the door open.
The count's guards, stationed in the antechamber, all turned to look at us.
The tense atmosphere prickled against my skin.
“Be at ease. The time has finally come for the Lord's mercy to reach the count. —Make way.”
His voice was quiet, but left no room for argument.
At his words, one of the guards could no longer hold back and spoke up.
“Wait! Do you mean to mock us? After making us wait this long... you bring us nothing but a child?!”
A man behind the knight restrained the knight's arm as it reached for his sword.
“Enough...”
His voice was low and subdued.
The man who stepped forward fixed his gaze not on Chris, but on me beside him.
“...Is this child your answer to us? Does the Church intend to treat the count's life as though it were some worthless scrap?”
The man wore a surcoat over a long tunic. His bearing had an elegance unlike that of an ordinary knight.
—He was probably the count's second son.
“This child is the pure vessel sent by the Lord. Will you have me regard any further discourtesy as a lack of faith in the Lord?”
At Chris's words, the second son's face twisted slightly.
Emotions that might have been anger or humiliation wavered in his eyes.
After a brief silence, he slowly stepped aside.
“...Let them through.”
His voice was low, almost spat out.
Chris and I proceeded between the knights, who had parted to either side.
We walked straight ahead, under their piercing gazes.
Soon, Chris reached for the door without hesitation.
The door separating us from the sickroom swung open with a creak.
Candlelight flickered softly across the high, arched ceiling painted with frescoes.
Our footsteps echoed dryly against the marble floor etched with geometric patterns.
As if trailing that echo behind us, we approached the canopy bed.
The count lay on the bed, unconscious.
But—
An incongruously harsh snore sounded intermittently through the silent room.
“Noah.”
Chris called my name briefly.
I nodded silently and held my hand over the count.
I focused my mind and poured mana into him.
I examined him, as though tracing each individual cell.
I found the abnormality almost immediately.
Blood clots scattered throughout his brain.
Not just one or two.
There was an unsettling number of them, as if they had been deliberately planted.
—As I thought, poison.
A naturally occurring stroke wouldn't cause this many blood clots.
First, I began by removing the clots.
I entwined them with mana and made them vibrate minutely.
I broke down the clotted blood.
At the same time, I spread mana through every last blood vessel.
No more, no less. Without the slightest error. With utmost care.
I cast 'Enhance' on my own brain.
My thoughts expanded.
My senses sharpened, and even the flow of time seemed to slow.
I sank my consciousness into the bloodstream.
I searched for foreign substances. Found them. Gathered them. Let none escape.
This was dialysis using Life Magic.
I transferred the extracted poison into the small vial Chris held out.
Drop by drop, the murky vermilion liquid quietly collected at the bottom.
Not a single person in the room spoke.
Without lifting my hand, I moved on to the next step.
Repairing the damaged brain cells.
Carefully, starting with the frontal lobe.
Tracing the damage and reconnecting it, one piece at a time.
Then the temporal lobe. I restored the regions responsible for memory and sensation without distortion.
And then—at last.
I spread 'Heal' throughout his body.
I quietly infused vitality into his utterly depleted body.
I had just finished and gently withdrawn my hand when it happened.
The count's eyelids trembled faintly.
Then, slowly, his eyes opened.
“...Where am I?”
His unfocused gaze wandered beneath the canopy.
Chris stepped forward and quietly told him,
“Please be at ease, Count. You are in the Church.”
After a brief pause, he continued.
“You collapsed from a stroke. But it seems the Lord has decided that it is not yet time to call you to His side.”
“...The Church, you say? ...I see. So I was... brought back from the brink by the Lord's hand.”
Though hoarse, his voice carried genuine conviction.
Hearing his voice, someone flung the door open.
“Father!”
The second son rushed over.
“I'm sorry... I've put you through a lot.”
“Father...! To hear your voice... to be able to hear you...”
The second son choked on his words, as though everything he'd been holding back had overflowed.
“I give thanks for the Lord's mercy...”
After taking a deep breath, he turned to Chris.
Then he bowed deeply on the spot.
“Reverend, I offer my deepest apologies for my earlier rudeness.”
“Please raise your head. The Lord's mercy is far deeper than you could ever imagine.”
Chris's voice was gentle, yet carried a weight that sank irresistibly into the heart.
The second son slowly lifted his head.
As the second son looked at Chris, Chris turned his gaze toward me.
“And besides, this child's power, which you doubted earlier, is not his only ability.”
As if prompted, I stepped forward.
I held out the small vial in my hand to the second son.
The murky vermilion liquid inside swayed quietly.
“I extracted this from the count's body. It is the poison that caused his stroke.”
The moment I spoke, the atmosphere in the room changed.
“Poison... This color... Is it Red Rotcap, which grows wild in my domain?”
The count and his second son instantly went pale.
“Could my brother really have...”
Anger and confusion mingled in the second son's voice.
“I'm sorry, but please look after my father. I will repay this debt of gratitude someday.”
After those brief words, the second son gathered the guards and left the sickroom.
After seeing the count's relieved expression, Chris turned to me.
“Then we'll take our leave as well. Your body has recovered, but please rest for the remainder of the day.”
With those final words, we too left the sickroom.