The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 44: “That’s not it, I mean—”

Before their journey back to the fortress to resume the subjugation, Soren never once tried to seek an audience with the High Priest not because he lacked the desire, but because he feared what such a meeting might expose.

He did not want his status to be known within the temple walls because the truth of who he was felt like a fragile secret, one that could shatter the moment the wrong eyes looked too closely at him.

It may have been the prince and the duke who decided that his identity should remain hidden, the ones who instructed him to play the role of a noble for convenience’s sake. Yet Soren knew better than to believe that protection equaled loyalty.

If something were to go wrong and if suspicion arose or blame needed to be placed, those two would not hesitate to cast him into the fire to save themselves.

He would be the easiest sacrifice.

They could simply claim ignorance, say that it was Soren alone who had been shameless enough to conceal his origins, that he had deceived even them and dared to step into the sacred temple driven by nothing but ambition.

The lie would be effortless. And worse, it would be believed.

Because Soren was a nobody.

A commoner with no name worth remembering.

In a world like this, a noble’s word carried far more weight than a commoner’s truth ever could.

No matter how sincere his defense might be, it would be drowned out by their authority. He understood that reality more clearly than anyone and it was precisely why he chose to stay away, silent and unseen, rather than risk being exposed and discarded.

In the stillness of the night, beneath the vast stretch of the star-filled sky and along the silent corridor, Soren leaned against the railing and let out a long, weary sigh as his eyes drifted upward with everything around him felt distant and untouched.

’Mom... are you looking at me right now? Am I doing the right thing?’ He swallowed and lifted his gaze, as if the night sky might answer.

’How is it up there? I hope you’re finally at peace and happy without worries dragging you down. I miss you. I’m... tired,’ he admitted silently. ’Really tired but you wanted me to live and to find my own happiness, so I will. I’ll keep helping those who can’t protect themselves. I’ll give everything I have. I won’t let you down.’

His fingers curled slightly against the railing, steadying himself.

’So please don’t worry about me. Focus on living freely up there. You probably don’t know this, but I’ve become stronger. I had to.’

Then the thought tightened his chest, but he forced himself to breathe.

’Still... I wish you were here. Some days, everything feels like too much. I miss the way you used to comfort me. Growing up alone, I sometimes forget what it feels like to be held... to be loved.’

He paused, eyes burning but dry.

’When I don’t know what to do, I just think of you. I always do. I miss you, Mom. So much...’

Lost in his thoughts as he stared blankly at the night sky, Soren never noticed that Alaric had come close. He had been about to approach and was just about to take a step forward when he stopped.

From the side, Soren looked strangely distant with his empty and unfocused expression. The loose strands of his ponytail swayed gently in the passing breeze, catching the faint light of the corridor. Something about the sight made Alaric hesitate.

Before he fully understood why, he had already retreated into the shadows.

’What the hell am I doing?’ Alaric scowled inwardly. ’Why am I hiding?’

He frowned to himself as he peeked out again, careful not to draw Soren’s attention with his gaze lingering longer than he intended.

To anyone else, Soren might have looked like he was simply admiring the dark expanse of the night sky but Alaric saw something different. There was a distance in Soren’s expression like an emptiness that suggested he wasn’t really there at all. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

It was the kind of look worn by someone already prepared for loss, someone so detached from everything around him that, if something were to go wrong, he would accept it without resistance.

As if he had long made peace with being the one left behind.

To Alaric, thinking about it, Soren had always been like that.

Rarely did he allow anyone to truly see what he felt. He might show fear on occasion, but only when he was truly cornered and when there was no other way to respond. Most of the time, Soren carried a carefully measured calm face that revealed nothing and gave nothing away.

He would smile, but it was always faint, fleeting, as if he was afraid that any warmth could be mistaken for weakness. He would laugh, but only in a low, controlled chuckle, never fully letting himself be carried by the moment.

And in nearly three months spent together in the harsh northern lands, Alaric had never once seen Soren cry. Not even in exhaustion and despair as if his emotions were locked away, and Alaric suspected they had been for a long time.

It was exhausting, in a way, just watching him like trying to hold water in his hands.

He could sense everything Soren was feeling, yet at the same time, nothing at all.

And that distance, that constant self-restraint, made him impossible to read and impossible to reach.

And even when he was injured, Soren never let it show. Not a single sign of pain ever escaped him, as if he couldn’t feel it at all... making him, in a way, almost impossible to understand.

In addition to that, Alaric knew the truth that he had endured more bullying inside the camp than anyone else. Alaric himself knew that a single word from him could have stopped the knights from pestering him, yet he had done nothing.

He had watched, and let the boy face the harsh reality alone.

And still, Soren never asked for help.

He endured everything quietly, as if it were normal and even when he had been deliberately given a tiny, cold tent in the bitter northern weather, he had accepted it without complaint, without a word of resentment.

Soren was... peculiar.

Unlike any other commoner Alaric had known that he seemed unambitious, restrained and almost boring on the surface. Yet there was something underneath that made him impossible to ignore.

"Haa... damn it," Alaric muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Just as Alaric was about to step forward, mustering the courage to approach him, Soren suddenly appeared beside him. He looked at Alaric with a faint tilt of his head, confused, his expression silently asking why he was there.

"Greetings, Your Grace..." Soren said, bowing politely.

The truth was, on his way back to his room, he had noticed a silhouette in the corridor and had approached it out of curiosity.

"Goddamn it... you startled me!" Alaric muttered, almost jumping, but he forced himself to stay composed, acting instead as if he were scanning the area.

"Uh... I’m sorry, Your Grace, but it’s the middle of the night," Soren said softly.

"Right... well..." Alaric hesitated, searching for words. He had just been lost in thought about Soren a moment ago, and now he had no idea what to say. "I was just... passing by," he lied.

Soren’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he lowered his eyes, a faint resignation in his posture. "I see. Then... I’ll be on my way, Your Grace. Have a good night."

Soren had just turned to walk away when, in a sudden motion, Alaric stepped forward and caught his wrist.

"Uh... Your Grace, are you hurt?" Soren asked, his voice hesitant.

"What?" Alaric muttered, momentarily stunned.

"I... I mean..." Soren trailed off, glancing down at Alaric’s hand gripping his wrist. The unexpected touch made him flinch slightly, though he quickly masked it.

Alaric, meanwhile, froze, his own body reacting before his mind could catch up. He hated even the slightest touch from a commoner and yet here he was, holding Soren’s wrist, unsure why he had done it. His chest tightened as he quickly let go, stepping back as if to remind himself of the rules he usually followed then neither of them spoke for a moment along with the tension between them thick enough to be felt in the cold night air.

’Damn it,’ Alaric thought, scowling at himself. ’He was just looking pathetically pitiful a moment ago, and now... now I feel... irritated? And I don’t even know why...’

"Uh... don’t worry, Your Grace. This robe was freshly washed, so it’s not dirty, probably..." Soren said carefully, his tone neutral.

Alaric frowned. "What?"

"This robe... it’s freshly washed, Your Grace," Soren repeated, glancing at him.

"That’s not it, I mean—" Alaric started, but the words faltered.

"Well... you’re rather... looking disgusted, Your Grace. I am of someone so lowly, so that’s why I mentioned it—" Soren said with such a straight face that Alaric had no idea how to respond.

"And a commoner, on top of that..." Soren whispered under his breath, careful not to let anyone else hear.

Alaric froze while the words was hitting him in an unexpected way. And that’s because he remembered clearly how harshly he had told Soren once before that he didn’t want to be touched. And yet... the only difference this time was that he had been the one to touch Soren first.

His chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t form words, couldn’t move.

The contradiction between his past arrogance and his current impulsiveness left him stunned

and, somehow, unsettled.

"Fuck..." Alaric muttered under his breath, not knowing what else to say then he glared at Soren, though the anger in his eyes wasn’t real, it was just frustration at himself.

"Forget it. I’m going back," Alaric said, his tone calm and measured. "Just... wake up early tomorrow. We’ll be leaving."