The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 57: To the esteemed healer,

Even though he had only just woken up, the urgency of the situation especially Melissa’s condition pushed Soren to choose Hector first over Lyric’s offer to eat. His body was still felt weak, but he ignored it and focused on what mattered most.

After Soren treated her, Melissa’s complexion finally returned to a healthy color, though she remained unconscious. Hector sat beside her while tightly holding her hand with unshed tears.

"I want to speak with you more," Caelius said quietly, "but you’ve only just regained consciousness. You need to eat and recover your strength. I’ll stay here and monitor her condition."

"Oh, but..."

"You should go, really."

Before he stepped out, Hector bowed as a gratitude and with that, Caelius gently guided Soren toward the tent’s exit. Outside, Lyric was already waiting, watching Soren with quiet concern as he was ushered out.

After that, Soren found himself eating awkwardly with the twins, the Duke, and Cael, the prince. The atmosphere was quiet with just the clinking of utensils sounding louder than usual to him.

"Oh, by the way," Cael said casually, setting down the goblet of water he had just sipped from, "while you were asleep, the Hawthorne household sent you some gifts. You should check them later."

Alaric and the twins fell silent, their gazes shifting toward Soren as they waited to see how he would react.

"The Hawthorne household... Your Highness?" Soren asked, clearly confused.

"Yes. The Hawthorne household."

Hearing it repeated, Soren glanced around at the others with his brows knitting together as he searched his memory.

No matter how hard he tried, the name refused to spark any recognition.

’Who could that be?’ he wondered while lightly biting his lip as he lowered his gaze, both hands still gripping the utensils above his plate. ’I don’t remember ever hearing that name...’

Watching his reaction, Lyric seemed to understand at once. Then a quiet realization crossed his face that Soren truly didn’t remember the person Cael was referring to.

"Oh, I actually have his letter. I’ll hand it to you later," Alaric said casually, dabbing his lips with a napkin. He had clearly finished his food.

"Ah, I see. Thank you, Your Grace." Soren set his utensils down completely and stood to bow.

Only Lyric paid him any attention.

"That’s fine. Well, expect Lord Hawthorne’s heir to arrive in two days. He’ll also be bringing one of his exceptional healers, so that works in our favor," Alaric added. The table fell silent aside from Lyric who noticed that Soren had barely touched the food on his plate.

"I see... but I don’t understand why His Lordship would send me gifts. I only did my..."

"Uh, uh... if you want to complain, do it in front of him. Hah, my ears are already ringing," Cael interrupted. He then stood abruptly and fixed his gaze on Soren. "You all finished eating? I’ve lost my appetite."

Still confused, Soren bowed again while wondering what had gone wrong this time. Just moments ago, they had felt warm and kind but now, they seemed distant and even cold.

’I don’t even know what to think anymore. But that person told me to at least give people a chance... so I guess I’ll let it go. Not that I can do anything about it. They can treat me however they want, I don’t really mind. And yet my chest keeps throbbing. Every time they turn cold, I feel like throwing up. My stomach twists, and I can barely swallow anything. Come to think of it, they knew I’d just woken up, yet they prepared such heavy meals. Hah... what was I even expecting?’ Soren drifted deeper into his thoughts.

"Is the food not to your liking?" Lyric asked gently.

"Ah no, it’s fine, my lord. Please don’t worry about me." Soren gave a small bow.

"Actually, may I be excused? I’m already full, and I need to check on the healer’s tent. Thank you very much for the meal."

"Wait," Lyric said, standing as well. "Why don’t you check the gifts first? Lord Rennovar and Lord Vensworth are there, after all."

He stepped closer to Soren, while Sylas and Alaric silently watched the two of them.

Sylas, unable to tolerate Lyric’s behavior any longer, scowled and suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"You, come with me. I have something to discuss with you."

He dragged Lyric away roughly by the wrist. Soren didn’t even bother stopping them when Alaric spoke up instead.

"Then you, come with me as well," Alaric said calmly. "I’ll give you the letter I mentioned earlier."

After some time, Soren found himself standing before a long row of neatly arranged boxes. It turned out that while he had been asleep in Alaric’s tent, all the gifts had already been transferred to his own.

The moment his eyes fell upon the finely crafted boxes, Soren froze.

Their quality was unmistakably luxurious and far beyond what he had expected. He stared in disbelief, mouth slightly agape with the letter clutched tightly in his hand.

Before even considering opening a single box, Soren chose to read the letter first.

It read:

To the esteemed healer,

I pray this letter finds you in good health.

You may not remember me clearly, yet I am Gideon Hawthorne, heir to the Marquisate of Hawthorne. I write to you today to formally convey my deepest gratitude for the life you saved. By your hands alone, I was spared death, and for that mercy, I remain eternally indebted.

Were it not for your skill and compassion, the Hawthorne household would have suffered the immeasurable loss of its only heir. Neither words nor gold could ever fully repay such a debt, yet I humbly offer these gifts, which I selected personally, as a token of my gratitude. I regret that I could not present them to you in person but I sincerely hope they prove to be to your liking.

My family, upon learning of your deed, has also entrusted me with their heartfelt thanks. Know that your name has been spoken with reverence within our household.

Postscript: There remains one final gift I wish to give you and this one, I shall deliver personally.

May your days be blessed with health and safety.

With the utmost respect,

Gideon Hawthorne

Heir of the Hawthorne Marquisate

After finishing the letter, Soren felt his heartbeat quicken. He instinctively placed a palm over his chest with the letter still held in his hand, and a gentle smile curved his lips.

It was the first time anyone had spoken such kind words to him even if only through ink and parchment. The letter felt warm in a way he wasn’t used to with its sincerity seeping through every carefully chosen phrase, and before he realized it, he was smiling as though it were something precious.

Still smiling, this time reaching all the way to his eyes, Soren lowered his gaze to the letter and gently traced the Hawthorne family seal with his fingers.

’Hawthorne... I see. What a kind household,’ he thought.

Yet even as that warmth lingered, a quiet doubt surfaced.

’Or perhaps they only sound kind in writing.’

He exhaled softly, the thought neither bitter nor resentful.

’I suppose I’ll know once we meet,’ he decided.