The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 99: “Already… left, you say?”

Days passed quickly after Soren left the North, though the journey itself felt slow in the way all long travels do, measured not by distance but by the steady creak of wooden wheels, sway of the road, and the dull rhythm of hooves striking packed earth.

They were still far from any destination that could be called certain while merely following trade routes and whatever direction the merchant caravan happened to take.

Like always, Soren and Elias rode inside one of the merchants’ carriages not in the front where one could sit upright and speak freely but, in the back where goods were stacked in careful bundles. Crates of dried produce, rolled fabrics, sealed jars, and tied sacks surrounded them, filling nearly every inch of space. Yet the two of them had grown used to this kind of travel.

With practiced ease, they would shift the smaller bundles aside, wedge themselves into narrow gaps, and settle into whatever position allowed their limbs to fit without going numb too quickly.

It was cramped, certainly but not uncomfortable.

Soren leaned his shoulder lightly against a sack of grain while adjusting his posture each time the carriage jolted over uneven ground. There were a faint scent of herbs, leather, and dust lingered heavily in the air, mixing with the warmth trapped inside the enclosed space.

Across from him, Elias rested with his arms folded, eyes half opened but alert, as though always listening to the world beyond the wooden walls.

They did not have much money, only a few scattered pennies between them but still enough to pay for passage when necessary, but never enough to choose comfort over practicality. Still, Soren had never regretted leaving the gold pouch behind in the encampment.

He had seen it and held it, even. The weight of it had been undeniable yet something in him had quietly refused it.

Perhaps it was indifference, pride or perhaps... gratitude, in its own strange form.

The North had given him shelter when he had nowhere to go, food when he was weak and a place to exist without being chased away, well, at first. However, taking such a large reward had felt... excessive. As if he were claiming credit for something he had not truly earned.

After all, the beasts had suddenly disappeared.

The crisis that once demanded his constant work had simply... ended. For weeks afterward, his days had been filled only with simple tasks like organizing herbs, tending to minor cuts, preparing salves no one urgently needed.

It was a quiet work. Necessary, but hardly deserving of gold.

Accepting that pouch would have felt like taking payment for stillness.

So, he left it behind though that wasn’t the only reason he left the gold behind.

Every time Soren looked at it, his chest would tighten not because he wanted it... but because he remembered.

The gold didn’t feel like a reward but felt like a reminder.

A reminder of the way people looked at him... like he was nothing.

Of the words that cut deeper because they were spoken so casually.

Of the times he had to stand there, silent, while being humiliated or belittled

Those coins carried all of it.

When he held the pouch before, his hands didn’t tremble from gratitude. They trembled because it felt like everything he had endured was being turned into a price. Like his pain, patience, silence. His everything could be neatly wrapped up and paid for.

As if gold could make it all acceptable and could erase how they treated him.

And every time he thought about taking it... he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like something heavy was pressing on his chest, reminding him of things he wanted to forget but never could.

He realized something simple back then.

If he took that gold, he would carry those memories with him forever. Not just in his mind... but in his life.

So, in the end, he didn’t take it because the only way he could truly breathe... was to leave it behind.

And more than that, leaving the gold was his way of cutting ties.

With the encampment, prince and with the Davenmores.

With everything that place represented.

If he accepted their gold, then a part of him would still belong there. Even if no one said it out loud, the connection would remain like a quiet reminder that he had received something from them... that he owed something... and that they still had a place in his life.

But Soren didn’t want that.

He didn’t want anything tying him to those memories, or something that could pull him back.

He didn’t want proof that he had ever stayed long enough to be broken there.

So, he walked away with empty hands.

And now... sitting in the merchant’s carriage while being surrounded by ordinary things like sacks, crates, dust along with the gentle rocking of the road, he could breathe without that tightness in his chest.

No weight in his hands, voices in his head and invisible chains behind him.

Just the quiet movement of the journey... and the simple feeling of being free,

With Elias.

While on the bit snowy road, the carriage swayed gently as it rolled along the rough road, rocking Soren back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. He then rested his head against the wooden wall behind him while letting the movement carry him without resistance.

Afterwards, his eyes wandered to a thin strip of light slipping through the narrow space between the crates where dust floated in that pale glow, drifting and trembling whenever the wheels hit another bump.

From outside, sounds came and went like passing waves along with the merchants calling out to each other, bursts of laughter, the low murmur of bargaining, and now and then the sharp crack of reins urging the horses forward.

Everything felt uncertain.

They didn’t know exactly where they were going, didn’t even have a real plan.

They were just... moving.

But strangely, Soren didn’t feel uneasy about it.

Maybe it was because Elias was right there beside him, so close that his presence felt steady and familiar, like something firm to hold onto even without speaking. Maybe it was because this kind of travel that’s quiet and simple without expectations felt more honest than the still, controlled life he had left behind.

Or maybe it was something even deeper than that.

For the first time in a long time, Soren wasn’t waiting for anything. He wasn’t hoping, fearing, or preparing himself for what might come next.

Tomorrow could be anything... or nothing at all.

And for once, that didn’t scare him.

It made him feel light and free.

"You okay?"

Elias gently poked Soren’s cheek with a light and careful touch like he was testing something fragile. Soren blinked, then gave a small nod. When Elias reached for his hands, Soren let him with their fingers brushing softly.

"Do you feel cold?" Elias asked.

Soren hummed quietly. "No... not really."

Even though Elias already knew Soren couldn’t really feel physical sensations and only emotions, he still asked anyway just to keep the conversation going and just to have something simple to share between them.

"Right..." Elias murmured softly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Why don’t you come here? Let me hug you... warm you up a bit."

Hearing him say that, Soren glanced at the narrow space around them. "Hmm... alright but it’s cramped, you know?"

"It’s fine," Elias said gently. "I’ll adjust. Come here... rest on me. We still have a long way to go. I’ll keep watch. You sleep a little... alright?"

Soren didn’t answer right away, but he slowly shifted closer while carefully moving through the tight space until his back rested against Elias’s chest. He settled there, leaning into him with his body naturally relaxing once he found a comfortable position.

Elias’s arms also wrapped loosely around Soren’s waist with his hands resting lightly at his hips while holding him steady each time the carriage rocked. Then he lowered his head, resting his face against the curve of Soren’s neck with his breath warm against the skin there.

Neither of them spoke after that while the carriage continued to sway. The quiet sounds of travel also filled the small space around them and slowly... Soren’s body grew heavier like he was finally letting himself rest.

Meanwhile, back at the encampment, the High Priest stood with a faint frown on his face along with a confusion clear in his eyes. The healers were gathered before him, yet something felt... off. When he first entered the encampment, he had sensed a certain energy that’s impossible to miss.

But now... it was gone.

"Hmm... do you have another one, My Lords?" he asked slowly.

At the question, Alaric’s brows drew together as his mind immediately drifted to Soren who had already left but he didn’t answer right away. The thought lingered heavily, yet the words refused to come.

Across him, Caelius remained calm and composed with his unreadable expression. He was quietly weighing his choices whether to mention that someone else had been there but had already departed... or to remain silent and wait for one of the four nobles to speak first.

Irlian, meanwhile, said nothing at all. He just simply stood there, quiet and still while watching the silence stretch between them.

"Your Holiness, we did have someone... but he has already left." Sylas spoke up while cutting through the silence. His tone was polite, but there was a sharpness beneath it. "He was not someone of importance. But... what exactly is happening right now? Could you explain it to us directly because we are clearly missing something."

At his words, Cael turned his head slightly while glancing at Sylas without speaking. Lyric did the same as well.

Then, hearing him state that, the High Priest’s expression shifted at once.

"Already... left, you say?" he repeated slowly. There was even something like unease or fear that’s flickering in his eyes.

Seeing that reaction, Cael’s brows pulled together slightly with a faint frown forming as tension crept into his chest. Something about the High Priest’s response felt... wrong. Too unsettled and serious for someone who had just heard of an unimportant person leaving.

’Just what the hell is going on with this old man’s head?’ Cael thought.