Chapter 70: Is the party over? (4.2k)

From the moment the healing began, Flora lost all sense of the outside world—a situation she had never experienced before when using her abilities.

However, she didn’t pay it much mind.

She simply focused on the act of healing, relaxing her body and mind, reaching out to sense the pain of the wounded, receiving the fragmented memories hidden within their scars.

She was searching for answers.

Wounds would never deceive her.

It was the one thing she could now place her complete trust in.

But the answers were not always pleasant.

Flora felt a pang of regret and found herself hopelessly conflicted.

She didn’t want to believe these wounded souls were pitiful people hired by Moria specifically to put on a show, but upon learning they had truly been disfigured by the fake medicine circulating on the market, Flora found that just as hard to accept.

Imagining the worst only to discover it was not so, brought with it a twisted sense of “at least this is acceptable,” which was, in truth, excruciating.

Flora struggled to suppress these feelings, pouring all her focus into the patients before her.

The first person she healed was an adventurer from the northern ice fields.

Memory told her that this man, having accidentally fallen into an ice river tainted by a great beast, had suffered massive tissue death.

When treated, all his organs except his heart were failing or damaged.

That he was still alive at all was due to the highest level of care from the Priests’ Order’s top healers.

From the fragments of overheard conversation in his memories, it wasn’t hard for Flora to realize that he received such care only because the priests wanted to use him for experiments, to try to deduce the recipe for the popular “miracle cure” circulating in the market.

That was the sole reason he’d been kept alive.

His internal organs rapidly healed, and color returned to his pale face.

Flora felt the now-familiar wave of nausea rise within her.

She fought it down and kept her expression calm.

“Why… am I suddenly completely fine?!”

The patient, who had originally averted his eyes and felt no hope, now stared in astonishment at the girl he’d thought was here merely for show.

The gentle glow that filled the hall bathed Flora’s figure in radiance, giving the man a fleeting illusion of witnessing a miracle.

“God…”

“Shhh.”

Flora simply raised a finger to her lips.

“Rest well.”

A miracle?

A deity?

Whatever title they might want to bestow, Flora had no patience for such empty praise.

With a casual sleep spell, she sent the excited patient into slumber, and turned to tend to the next.

This was a poor soul, severely frostbitten by a beast’s minion, who had not received proper care and had lost thirty percent of his body weight.

Both legs, from the knees down, were already necrotic.

…

One by one.

Fifteen wounded, fifteen adventurers poisoned by the fake medicine.

Flora treated them, one after another.

Besides their grievous wounds and the festering caused by side effects, their only commonality was that all had been concentrated under the care of the Priests’ Order.

The belated Tatashimi had only delivered them here.

Their role was simply to prove her ability—and to make her feel pain.

The value of a life was so lightly replaced in this way.

Bishop Sherman must surely have known about this.

And as for the leader of the Priests’ Order—who knew what sort of thoughts had led him to approve this spectacle of healing?

“So… much pain…”

Flora didn’t have the ability to dwell deeply on why things were the way they were.

Merely trying to think calmly and redirect the unending torrent of pain that assaulted her soul and mind was already overwhelming.

The more she tried to focus elsewhere, the more acutely she felt the agony of the wounded echoing through her own organs and bones.

In the past, the only thing she could do was endure until she fainted; there was no method to truly deal with the pain.

Now, she had the ability to transfer the pain to someone else, but with the collar’s magic restrictions and no one nearby to shoulder it for her, the difference was negligible.

In truth, even a few groans might have made things a bit more bearable.

But all she could do was endure.

If she just lost consciousness, she’d quickly make it through this ordeal.

But she could not do that.

Fifteen people’s lives lay before her.

She had accepted the challenge—meaning she had taken on the responsibility to cure them all.

If she didn’t grit her teeth and finish, all her efforts tonight could be for nothing.

And then, what would become of them, deemed useless by Moria?

Flora dared not think.

Moria’s ruthless, thuggish tactic of binding others’ fates to hers was a method tailor-made to torment someone with Flora’s incurable nature.

If she could just cast aside some morality and empathy, treat these people as strangers, as the damned of this world, she could get through it easily.

But she had chosen, from the start, to play things as they came.

And she was the sort who could never accept letting innocent people die in front of her when she had the power to save them.

So, no matter how much it hurt…

She would bear it.

It was her own doing.

“Cough, cough…”

When she was halfway through, Flora already felt her body violently resisting any further healing, as if each act was an act of self-destruction.

She raised her eyes and looked around at the guests.

They still watched her and the wounded.

Even though seeing a doctor at work was surely the most tedious thing in the world, they watched without blinking.

And when their gazes shifted to the healed patients, then back to her, their eyes were full of awe and reverence, as if they had witnessed a miracle.

Of course, there were some with different expressions in the crowd.

Flora immediately noticed Moria’s completely different demeanor.

That woman had her fists clenched, watching like a mother watching her child walk for the first time, eyes full of encouragement and pride.

What was she feeling?

Flora could not understand, but she was certain—it was hopeless.

Yet, ironically, seeing that expression from Moria, all the pain that had so numbed Flora’s body seemed to recede like a vanishing tide.

She gritted her teeth, stood, and moved on to the next patient, carrying on the charade.

“You’re progressing quickly, breaking through again. Elka, did you see?”

When Flora stopped looking her way, Moria looked up, smiling, and sent her words telepathically to the elf lady.

Seeing Elka frowning and watching Flora’s every move, Moria’s mood improved even more.

Feeling Moria’s gaze, Elka rolled her eyes.

“Utter lunatic.”

With that, the elf expressed her contempt.

Moria just shrugged, unconcerned.

She waited in silence for the performance—hardly an entertaining one—to end.

Then, as the first to react, she strode forward to the utterly drained Flora, who nearly collapsed to the floor, and gently cupped her face, pressing her forehead against hers.

“Well done.”

At this moment, she was so much like the proper noblewoman from Flora’s dreams.

But Flora felt no warmth at all.

“I didn’t do it for your praise—”

She tried not to look at Moria.

Even forced to meet the woman’s eyes, Flora had no intention of gazing at this madwoman.

“Good children deserve proper rewards. Praise alone isn’t enough.”

Moria interrupted, placing her hands on Flora’s shoulders.

Flora opened her mouth, uncertain of Moria’s intent, and forced her weak voice to continue: “What else do you want? It’s bad enough making me play the clown—surely you don’t mean to—”

This time, Moria planted a kiss on her forehead.

Flora fell silent.

She no longer wanted to speak.

This twisted, inexplicable emotion frightened her—she feared anything she did would be taken as a response by Moria.

“There now, that’s better.”

Moria laughed softly and lifted the limp Flora, holding her before the audience.

“So, everyone?”

Her voice grew louder, and the cold mask of a noble returned to her face.

Pride, satisfaction, mockery.

Moria used her noble’s bearing to express contempt for those who had doubted the ability of the lady she had recommended for knighthood.

“Any objections? Speak freely. So long as our star performer has the strength, she can surely earn your approval.”

Silence.

Nothing but silence greeted her from the guests.

Moria looked to the bishop with satisfaction.

“Mr. Sherman, what do you say?”

“Everything is as written in the patent of nobility. Lady Flora emerald is, of course, worthy of the honor.”

The bishop nodded without objection.

“Congratulations, you are now a true noble, my dear Flora.”

Moria looked at the girl in her arms and smiled.

Flora closed her eyes, drawing herself in with no reply.

Exhausted, she simply couldn’t deal with Moria any further.

The collar’s magical restriction never let up.

While the healing hadn’t cost her life force, it had drained her of energy and strength.

It was only sheer willpower that kept her from collapsing asleep right then and there.

And Moria must have anticipated her current state.

After all, now that the healing was done, Flora, weak in Moria’s arms, would have no strength to resist any further closeness.

“You’re cuter than ever, Flora. Tell me—my hug and kiss, as your reward for tonight’s splendid performance—does it make you happy?”

As Moria carried her toward the stage, she kept whispering nonsense.

Flora wanted nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t shrink any further in protest.

A servant brought over a chair and placed it on stage.

Moria gently set her down, leaving her to sit up straight, maintaining a noble’s posture for the guests.

Bishop Sherman took it all in and sighed inwardly.

Looking around, he saw the guests had shaken off the shock of the healing and now looked to the stage.

He too composed himself and resumed his bishop’s solemn bearing to proceed with the investiture.

“…I, Bishop Sherman Fuka, in His Majesty’s name, declare the conferment of noble honor upon Miss Flora Emerald…”

No one voiced any complaint at this girl receiving such an honor.

The audience quietly watched as the exhausted Flora received her medal, and after the bishop read the oath, they applauded to congratulate their new colleague’s transformation.

The banquet drew to a close.

Or so Flora thought.

After all, according to the original schedule, all that remained was the normal feast, with drinking and dancing.

In her state, it was unlikely anyone would invite her to dance.

So, she could finally relax and rest a while.

But she quickly sensed something was wrong.

“Where did Linko go?”

Her trusted maid was nowhere to be seen.

“Eh, her? She returned to the territory,” Moria replied nonchalantly, then leaned closer to whisper in Flora’s ear.

“Do you like her?”

Flora’s breath caught, her heart giving a painful squeeze.

“……”

She didn’t answer, afraid Moria would read too much into it.

Like Linko?

No—more like, she was afraid for her safety.

“Don’t be upset. Don’t worry, I know what you’re worried about. She just felt unwell and went home to recover. Besides, I can’t trust Father’s people to linger around me that long without pulling something behind my back.”

“Do you really know what I’m worrying about?”

Flora didn’t feign panic; she met Moria’s gaze head-on.

“As long as you don’t get any foolish ideas, like cooperating with my father, or hoping that man will come save you—don’t be so naive, or I’ll lose all patience with you.”

Moria smiled and patted her head.

“Linko’s too soft-hearted—she couldn’t stand watching you heal people like this, so she left. Does that explanation satisfy you? She’ll be back in a while. But if you’re already thinking of her, does that mean you think the party is over?”

Don’t relax too soon.

It’s not over yet.

“Hugs and kisses aren’t enough of a reward for tonight’s performance.”

“What?”

That unease from before came rushing back to Flora.

But Moria didn’t look at her again.

Instead, she bowed to Bishop Sherman and said, “Mr. Bishop, there’s one more matter I’d like your help to witness.”

“Miss Deran, so long as it’s by the rules, I have no objection.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Moriya moved behind Flora again, turning her chair to face the audience.

“What are you trying to do now…”

Flora forced herself not to let weakness steal her voice.

She raised it, questioning the woman.

Moria replied softly, her smile unchanged.

“Aren’t you always worried about Tatashimi? Don’t forget her now.”

No one else could hear their exchange, but Moria then raised her voice for all to hear: “Miss Flora Emerald’s investiture is complete. Thank you all for coming—Moria is delighted to welcome her as a new member of our young generation.
Now, let’s discuss another important matter. Miss Tatashimi, please bring them in.”

Them?

Who were “they”?

The guests looked curiously toward the scholar by the side door.

Flora, too, watched Tatashimi anxiously—the one who’d earlier made her uneasy.

Suddenly, she understood what Moria meant.

Her investiture was done, but wasn’t this banquet also the bounty gathering for Fros?

“Wait, you—?!”

Flora was just about to speak, when she caught Moria’s strange look.

She was rendered speechless.

That look needed no words to explain—

“Who are you worried about?”

She closed her mouth.

A pair of middle-aged couples, dressed utterly unlike the rest of the guests, entered the banquet hall.

Ham Camille and Mia Camille —two people Flora could never mistake or forget.

Her birth parents in this world.