The room was dim.
The curtains were drawn tight, making it as dark as night despite the midday sun. The air felt stagnant.
A single chair stood by the window. There sat Lady Clarissa.
She had pale blonde hair and slender shoulders. Her face was hidden beneath a white veil, and she sat hunched over, her body turned halfway away from us.
"Clarissa... I have brought a guest to see you," the Marchioness said softly.
"A... guest?"
Lady Clarissa’s shoulders gave a sharp jolt. Then, she became as still as a statue.
I pulled off my hood and surveyed the room.
There wasn't a single mirror to be found—not on the vanity, nor on the walls. Strange, empty gaps marked the spots where they should have been. She must have had them all removed so she wouldn't have to face her own reflection.
The Marchioness clutched a small hand mirror in her grip. It was the only one left in the room.
Lady Clarissa kept her back straight, as a noblewoman should, but I could see the tension wracking her frame. She was terrified. She was bracing herself against the gaze of a stranger.
Without stepping any closer, I lowered my voice and made a request of the Marchioness.
"Marchioness. Could you please step back a little?"
"But..."
"I think the presence of others is difficult for her right now."
Though she hesitated, the Marchioness retreated toward the wall.
Even so, the girl remained stiff with anxiety. I began to speak slowly, careful not to look directly at her.
"Lady Clarissa. My name is Rein."
There was no response. That was fine.
"You won't have to endure or put up with anything today. If you don't want to talk, you don't have to. We can keep the curtains closed, too. You prefer the dark, don't you?"
At that, I felt her downcast face tilt slightly toward me. After a long silence, a raspy voice drifted through the air.
"...This is for treatment, is it not?"
It was a thin, fragile voice that seemed to leak out from behind the veil.
"It is futile. I was the one who abandoned the Saint’s treatment, unable to bear the pain. Having fled of my own accord, I no longer have the right to wish for healing..."
Her voice was thick with resignation. It was the sound of someone who had long since discarded hope.
"Unlike the Saint's methods, my treatment doesn't hurt."
Lady Clarissa didn't answer. She didn't believe me—which was only natural.
I didn't try to convince her with words. Instead, I continued.
"If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just push my hand away. That will be the end of it. I won't restrain you or tie you down."
"..."
"Today, I'll only touch a tiny spot that can be hidden by your hair. Whether it heals or not, no one else will ever know."
I fell silent then. I didn't press for an answer; I simply waited.
A heavy, lingering silence filled the room. Lady Clarissa clenched and unclenched her hands over her lap several times.
Finally, a faint whisper emerged from the veil.
"...If it is only... a little."
I gave a small nod. I walked to her side and rolled up the sleeve of my left forearm.
Then, I drew a small knife from my coat and, without a moment's hesitation, sliced a thin layer of skin from my own arm.
"—!?"
Lady Clarissa gasped. The Marchioness let out a sharp breath from across the room.
A mere child had calmly cut his own flesh. Their shock was only natural.
In that fleeting moment, Lady Clarissa’s thoughts ground to a halt. Her fear and tension were swept away by the sheer impact of the sight.
I didn't miss my chance.
Her hands remained free in her lap, ready to brush me away at any second. After confirming she wasn't going to pull back, I reached through a gap in the veil and gently pressed the sliver of skin against the jagged scar hidden beneath her hairline.
I activated my Transplant Magic.
Lady Clarissa suddenly snapped back to her senses. Remembering the Saint’s treatment, her entire body braced for the impact.
She was waiting for the agonizing pain.
—But it never came.
Her rigid posture slowly began to soften.
"...It doesn't... hurt? It feels warm..."
"It’s only a small patch, but it’s healed. Please, see for yourself."
After a moment, I gently withdrew my hand. The place where the scar had been was now perfectly smooth.
Lady Clarissa still seemed unable to believe it. She tentatively traced her fingers along her hairline, checking the spot over and over.
The Marchioness stepped forward from the wall, her hands trembling as she offered the hand mirror to her daughter.
Lady Clarissa stared at the mirror for a long time.
She had spent years refusing to look at herself. Facing a mirror was a mountain she wasn't ready to climb.
Yet, she took the glass with shaking hands. Tilting it carefully so as not to reflect her entire face, she gently brushed her blonde hair aside.
She looked only at the spot along her hairline that had just been treated.
The old scar was gone.
There had been no pain. And the result was undeniable.
"...Ah."
A strangled sound escaped Lady Clarissa’s throat.
That was the breaking point.
For two years, she had forbidden herself from hoping. She had suppressed her desires time and again, telling herself she didn't deserve a future. Now, those feelings burst forth like a dam breaking.
Sobs broke out from beneath the veil. She could no longer maintain her ladylike composure.
"I can be healed...? I’m really... going to be okay...?"
"Does this mean... I can stand before him once more...?"
I said nothing.
I simply stood there until her tears finally ran dry.
Eventually, Lady Clarissa seemed to realize her surroundings and pulled her shoulders in, looking mortified.
"Forgive me. To break down like this in front of a child... how unsightly. Ah! And you—your arm!!"
Whether she had been too distraught to notice or had only just realized the implications, she spoke with a trembling voice.
"It's already healed. There's no need to worry."
I answered her, though I'm sure my face was pale. I wiped away the blood with a cloth, revealing skin that was just as smooth and unblemished as the spot I had fixed on her.
◇◇◇
Lady Clarissa took several deep breaths before finally lifting her head. She turned to face me squarely through the veil.
"...Lord Rein."
"Yes?"
"The next... the next treatment... no. I cannot."
She cut off the very hope she had been clinging to with her own words.
"To make someone so young bleed like that again and again... a woman like me, who threw everything away because she was too weak to endure... I am not worth being healed at such a price—"
Her words failed her. Tears pattered onto the floor, and she began to sob beneath her veil once more.
I spoke up immediately to tell her that her guilt was misplaced.
"I’m the one who decided to heal you, not you. It’s my choice. You don't have to carry that burden."
"Besides, my wounds close instantly with Recovery Magic. I’m very strong against pain, so please don't let it bother you."
"There is no way that's true!"
"—No, it’s fine. Because this is what I’ve decided."
Silence reclaimed the room for a long while.
Lady Clarissa, her tears falling softly now, asked one final question.
"...Is it truly alright for me to be healed?"
"Yes," I nodded. "I will treat you as many times as it takes until you are completely restored."
I left the room and closed the door behind me. Mira was waiting for me outside, and I leaned on her for support as we made our way back down the corridor.
My steps were a bit unsteady, but my heart felt a little lighter.