The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 100: And strangely… Caelius liked that.

"Let me ask you... who is this person that just departed?"

The High Priest’s voice was calm, yet it carried a quiet gravity that made the question feel heavier than it sounded as though he were not merely asking out of curiosity but searching for something unseen.

Then, Sylas answered before anyone else could speak.

"Oh, he’s nothing important, Your Holiness," he said flatly with his lips curling faintly in disdain. "Just a slut who doesn’t know his place."

The contempt in his voice was unmistakable but the High Priest did not react to the insult. He neither frowned nor corrected him. He simply watched the space where the young man had probably vanished along with his gaze lingering there a moment too long.

While Caelius and Irlian remained silent, both of them had instinctively tensed when Sylas spoke not in agreement, but in quiet discomfort. Something about the High Priest’s question made the moment feel delicate, like thin glass under pressure. His words felt dangerous now so they held their tongues... even though something inside them urged otherwise.

Across the tent, Alaric frowned slightly while clearly unsure why such a simple departure warranted such attention. On the other hand, Cael looked equally puzzled while glancing between Sylas and the High Priest as if trying to piece together meaning from something invisible.

Lyric, however, remained watchful. His gaze did not wander. It just stayed fixed on the High Priest while observant and searching for what lay beneath the man’s composed exterior.

Then the High Priest finally spoke again.

"...Hmm. How peculiar."

His tone was thoughtful rather than dismissive. Slowly, his gaze shifted... settling on Caelius.

"And you... heir of the Rennovar Household, yes?"

Caelius flinched almost instinctively at being addressed so directly. Still, he straightened at once while meeting the High Priest’s eyes with proper composure with respect remaining clear in his posture, even if unease stirred quietly beneath it.

"Yes, Your Holiness."

The High Priest studied him carefully. Not casually, politely but as if weighing something unseen.

"Tell me,"he uttered gently, "did you feel anything around here? ...Or do you not perceive it yourself?"

Hearing the question, it struck Caelius harder than he expected.

"I..."

He opened his mouth, ready to answer but the words never came. Feel... what? He searched his memory and encounter with Soren along with his presence but nothing seemed different. Nothing he could name and understood making the confusion tightened his chest.

His brows also drew together slightly, and his voice faltered before it could even form. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The High Priest watched him for only a brief moment... then gave a small, understanding nod. As if that silence alone had answered everything.

Without another word, he began to walk slowly across the tent with his divine robes shifting softly with each movement. He then looked deep in thought, as though tracing invisible threads only he could sense. Meanwhile, Cael had drifted into his own thoughts entirely while replaying the moment over and over.

Something about all of this felt strange... but he could not grasp why as the silence extended.

Then Sylas exhaled faintly, bored and impatient.

"Excuse me, Your Holiness," he said lazily, not even bothering to hide his disinterest. "If you have nothing more to say, may I take my leave?"

There was not a trace of hesitation in him. Whatever reverence others might hold toward the High Priest... Sylas did not share it. As the second heir of a powerful dukedom and brother to its current lord, Alaric, he did not feel easily intimidated.

The High Priest stopped walking. Slowly, he turned.

"Listen," he said quietly. "And let me ask you something."

His gaze moved past Sylas... settling once more on Caelius. "What is the name of the one who just left?"

A pause, then more firmly, he asked. "You, My Lord should tell me."

At once, every gaze in the tent turned toward Caelius with Sylas, Alaric, Cael and Lyric, even Irlian. The attention felt sudden and uncomfortable making Caelius swallowed slightly while straightening under the weight of it.

"I...it’s Soren, Your Holiness." The name left his lips softly and the moment it was spoken... the air in the tent seemed to grow still.

"Hmm, do you have something that he somehow used with him for a long time? And may I have it to inspect?"

With that question, Sylas felt a flicker of irritation rise in his chest. To him, the High Priest no longer seemed like a man guided by divine insight, only someone prying where he need not. Lyric, standing nearby, reached a similar conclusion.

The way the High Priest lingered on trivial matters while asking strange questions about someone that’s already gone, felt less like sacred discernment... and more like needless curiosity. To both of them, it seemed the old man was straying from whatever real duties he was meant to uphold.

And so, the exchange came to a quiet end,

at least on the surface.

The High Priest requested to see the robe they had mentioned, the one worn by the young man named Soren. A moment after, it was brought forward carefully, presented by one of his Holy Knights with proper reverence. The garment rested across the knight’s arms with its fur-lined surface catching the muted light inside the tent but the High Priest did not touch it.

He merely looked. And in that single glance... everything changed.

There was something in it that made his eyes widened with unmistakable shock.

His breath caught and for the first time since entering the tent, his composure visibly cracked. His chest rose and fell faster, as though his heart had begun to pound against his ribs with sudden urgency.

He then stared at the robe as if it were something impossible... something sacred and something that should not have been here and yet unmistakably was.

A long moment passed, then he turned sharply.

"Do you perhaps know where this Soren fellow has gone?" His voice was no longer calm. It was urgent, and commanding, almost trembling beneath restrained intensity as his gaze swept across the nobles before him. "Your Highness... My Lords... Your Graces... you must bring him back at once."

The words struck the tent like a thunderclap.

"Find him," he said again, firmer this time. "Bring Soren back this instant."

He and Soren had not even met properly but the High Priest had not spoken to him, questioned him, or even stood near him long enough for more than a passing glance... and yet he demanded his immediate return with unmistakable urgency that it made no sense especially to Alaric and Cael and of course, to Lyric.

And yet, the command was absolute.

Among the knights who had quietly warmed to Soren, something bright and fierce sparked within their chests. None dared speak it aloud, but relief and triumph spread through them like wildfire. The boy who had been dismissed, ridiculed, and overlooked was now being sought by the highest spiritual authority present.

But among everyone there, a few felt something deeper, something far more personal.

Melissa pressed her lips together tightly with her eyes shining faintly with restrained emotion. Hector’s shoulders straightened with sudden pride. Kent and Louie exchanged quick, disbelieving glances while Justin exhaled slowly, as if tension he had not noticed before had finally loosened its grip.

And Caelius...Caelius felt his chest swell with something he could not fully name.

It was relief, joy as well as regret for not being able to stand against those people who pushed Soren away.

All of it rushed through him at once.

The High Priest was looking for Soren, calling for him and demanding his return.

For reasons none of them yet understood... but reasons that clearly mattered.

And for the first time since Soren had walked away...

Caelius allowed himself to hope.

Soren was someone Caelius could truly call a friend.

Their standing in the world could not have been more different which one born into nobility, raised within structure, expectation, and pride while the other was accustomed to being overlooked, dismissed, and left to endure quietly whatever life placed before him.

Yet none of that had ever mattered to Caelius.

What he admired most about Soren was something difficult to explain.

It was the way Soren carried pain as if it had no weight, the way sorrow brushed past him without ever seeming to take hold not because he was strong in the way knights were strong... but because he simply silently and stubbornly endured as if suffering was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

It was almost irritating.

Soren never complained and demanded. Never reached for what he had no right to claim. He knew his place and never once tried to step beyond it.

And strangely... Caelius liked that.

He had always disliked being questioned, disliked people who pushed, demanded, or tried to draw things out of him but Soren never did. He existed beside others without asking anything from them and perhaps that quiet acceptance was what made his presence feel... peaceful.

But more than admiration and comfort, there was something else.

Caelius wanted to protect him.

Not because Soren was fragile and incapable but because... he mattered.

Soren was someone important to him in a way Caelius had never quite put into words yet understood without doubt.

And now...

Someone else had noticed him too.

Someone who had never even spoken to Soren... never truly met him was now demanding his presence with urgency that could not be ignored.

That alone made Caelius feel something bright and overwhelming rise in his chest. It was relief and happiness. Something close to validation as if the world had finally paused long enough to see what he had always known.

But that same moment stirred something entirely different in the others.

Cael remained troubled while unable to understand what had suddenly made Soren worthy of such attention.

Alaric’s composure hid clear confusion with his mind turning over possibilities that refused to settle into sense.

Lyric, on the other hand watched everything with narrowed eyes, unsettled by how quickly the High Priest’s interest had turned into insistence.

And Sylas... though outwardly dismissive could not entirely hide the faint tension in his posture and the quiet discomfort of something unfolding beyond his understanding.

Caelius alone felt warmth from it even as the rest felt only uncertainty.

Because for reasons none of them could explain...

Soren, the one who asked for nothing, who stood quietly at the edges of everything had suddenly become someone the world refused to ignore.

Meanwhile, the carriage that Soren and Elias had been riding in was completely shattered, and the horses were dead as well.