The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 38: “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

After subconsciously healing himself, Soren slowly came back to his senses. His vision cleared, and the warm, steady rhythm of his own heartbeat reminded him that he was alive. Blinking against the dim light of his room, he realized he was lying in his bed with the sheets tangled around him.

Alaric sat at the edge of the bed, arms crossed while staring sharply at Soren that his tense expression made Soren feel both guilty and exposed.

"Uh, oh! My apologies, Your Grace! How about the ritual?" Soren blurted out immediately, instinctively worried about duty rather than himself.

The words tumbled out before he could even register the throbbing ache in his side or the fatigue weighing on his limbs.

Hearing that, Alaric’s sigh was slow and heavy with exasperation. "Forget about the ritual. Just rest and stay here." His voice carried an authority that left no room for argument, but the tension behind it betrayed how much he had restrained himself to this point.

Soren scrambled upright, sitting on the edge of the bed, and waved his hands nervously. "Uhm, I’m totally fine, Your Grace. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you."

Alaric’s fingers pressed against his temple, rubbing in slow, frustrated circles as he let out another sigh. His eyes narrowed, pinning Soren in place with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Soren, now on his feet, bowed deeply in a reflexive gesture, trying to show respect even as he wobbled slightly.

"Are you for real?" Alaric snapped while edged with disbelief. "Thinking about the ritual first instead of how to recover? Didn’t you know that you almost got sexually assaulted?"

Soren tilted his head, his expression calm and almost casual, as if Alaric’s words barely registered. "Oh, it’s not like it’s the first time, Your Grace. It’s not a big deal. Please let me attend the ritual."

Alaric’s frown deepened, his jaw tightening. "What do you mean it’s not the first time and it’s not a big deal? Are you that stupid?" His hand shot out, almost as if he wanted to physically shake some sense into Soren, but he restrained himself, keeping his composure barely intact.

"Your Grace, are you... concerned about me?" Soren asked innocently that the words carrying a hint of mischief, though his eyes were sincere.

Alaric flinched, as though the question had struck him unexpectedly. His lips then pressed into a thin line, and for the first time, genuine emotion flickered across his face. "Concern? Are you kidding me right now?"

Soren took a cautious step closer, more out of habit than necessity. His posture was steady, his movements was unstrained, and when he spoke, his voice was calm and measured, carrying a quiet determination born from certainty rather than stubbornness.

"Just let me do this, Your Grace," he said, looking directly at Alaric. "You paid me to do your bidding, after all." There was no bitterness in his tone but only acceptance, as though the arrangement itself was reason enough to move forward.

He then paused briefly before continuing, tilting his head as if searching for the right words. "And... I apologize for what just happened. It’s unfortunate, but really, it’s not a big deal." He shifted his weight, taking a small step to demonstrate his point, clearly unaffected. "Besides, I’m already fine as it is. I don’t feel any pain at all. I can walk just fine and do the job."

With a faint but resolute nod, he finished, "I won’t let you down as the healer representative of the Davenmore Household, Your Grace."

Alaric’s eyes softened for a brief second with a flicker of something unspoken passing through them, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He then walked toward the door but before reaching the handle, he turned just enough to glance over his shoulder at Soren, the corners of his mouth twitching in a way that could have been a scowl or a hint of reluctant admiration.

"Fine," he said shortly, his voice clipped. "Do whatever you want. I don’t care."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Soren let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Alaric’s footsteps faded down the hallway, and a low mutter slipped from his lips, too soft to ever reach Soren’s ears.

"Damn it..."

It was barely a whisper, carrying a weight Soren would never hear. For all his outward indifference, Alaric did care whether he admitted it or not.

After doing just enough to make himself presentable, Soren quietly left his room. He moved through the corridors with practiced composure until he reached the sacred hall. The vast space opened before him, solemn and heavy with reverence.

At its center lay the ritual ground, a faintly glowing mana circle etched into the marble floor with ancient runes humming softly beneath the feet of those who stood upon it.

Though his body felt perfectly fine to him, Soren was aware of how he must look. The bruising on his face had been carefully concealed with a layer of nude ointment, blended just well enough to pass as exhaustion rather than injury.

With his head slightly lowered, he kept to himself, unaware that elsewhere, Cael had already dealt punishment to those who had dared cross a line with him.

As the ritual began, the hall fell into hushed silence. Nobles seated around the chamber shifted their attention forward with their eyes fixed on the healers assembled at the center.

One by one, golden light bloomed from their palms as they extended both arms toward the towering statue of the Goddess Mirath. The divine glow responded, spreading across the statue’s surface and bathing the hall in warm radiance.

At least twenty healers stood in formation, all clad in white robes traced with elegant golden lines. Then their magic shimmered steadily, a clear display of skill and devotion. Among the watching nobles, quiet pride flickered with the healer representing a family or sponsor eager to prove their worth through this sacred demonstration.

Cael, however, was far from focused on the ritual unfolding before him.

His gaze remained fixed on the golden light, yet his thoughts were elsewhere, dragged back to the earlier scene he could not seem to shake.

The image of Soren’s body filled with those assaulter’s semen as well as the vacant weariness in his eyes, lingered stubbornly in his mind.

Seeing those despicable things, he did not touch Soren, thinking him filthy and unworthy of concern. When Soren collapsed, Cael hadn’t even tried to catch him. Yet the moment Alaric carried Soren out of the room, something inside Cael twisted painfully, a dull ache settling in his chest.

’That’s strange,’ he thought with carefully neutral expression as the ritual continued. ’Is this guilt... or something else?’ 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

His eyes remained trained on the radiant glow ahead of him as he questioned himself further. ’Since when did I start feeling anything toward my entertainer?’

The golden light reflected in his pupils, brilliant and divine, yet it did nothing to quiet the unrest stirring within him.

Alaric, on the other hand, remained focused on what was happening in front of him, though his gaze kept drifting to Soren’s side profile. The soft glow of mana surrounded Soren, making his hair sway gently as light poured from his body.

For a brief moment, Alaric felt his chest skip a beat. Realizing it, he immediately shook his head in denial, swallowing hard as he glanced toward Cael who was also staring at Soren’s face.

’Hah. I must be tired. Or maybe it’s that damn coffee I had this morning,’ Alaric thought, frowning to himself. He then turned his attention back to Soren and the other healers, aware that many noble eyes within the sacred chamber were fixed on them as well.

As the ritual continued, murmurs suddenly rippled through the noble crowd when one of the healers began to glow far brighter than the others.

"What’s happening?"

"Oh my, what’s going on there?"

"Look! He’s glowing much more than anyone else!"

"Who could it be?"

"God, his healing is exceptional!"

The golden light grew stronger, far more potent than before with its warmth spreading through the sacred hall. Even the High Priest straightened, his sharp eyes narrowing as he followed the source of the disturbance.

Alaric and Cael, now fully focused, stared toward the front and then they saw it.

It was Soren.

The other healers standing beside him turned in confusion with their brows furrowing as they stared at the overwhelming glow pouring from his body. A few of them even tried to call out to him yet Soren did not respond.

His eyes were blank and unfocused, as if nothing existed in his mind except the instinct to release his healing power way stronger than before without restraint.

The golden light surged again, and with it came a sudden stillness. Nobles, priests, and attendants alike felt an inexplicable sense of ease wash over them with their bodies relaxing as though soothed by a divine presence.

Then a thin line of red slipped from Soren’s nose, trailing down past his lips. Still, he did not react.

He continued pouring out his mana, unaware of the toll it was taking in his body, lost entirely in the act of healing.

"What exactly is he doing now?" Alaric muttered, frowning in frustration as Caelius looked in their direction, silently asking with his eyes what should be done.