The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 55: “Ow! That hurts, you…!”

Several days had passed or almost four, to be exact since Soren lost consciousness.

Knowing how potent his healing abilities were, many expected him to wake quickly especially now that his wounds had fully healed. Yet something about his condition unsettled everyone, Alaric most of all.

Soren had not opened his eyes even once, and stranger still, he had been crying in his sleep the entire time.

It was as if he were trapped in a deep, unending dream.

His eyes remained closed, but whenever Alaric checked on him, the pillows beneath his head were damp with tears. Not knowing the reason, and driven by a mix of concern and quiet curiosity, Alaric stayed close to him and brought him to his own tent.

"Hmm, how is he? Still not waking up?" Cael asked as he entered the tent.

He walked toward Alaric who was seated at the table, focused on the documents spread before him then settled onto the small couch across from the table, crossing his legs and leaning back. It had already been a full day since they returned to the encampment.

"He’s quite in a very deep slumber, Your Highness," Alaric replied without looking up, though he could feel Cael’s gaze fixed on him.

"Hm? Is that so?" Cael said lightly. "Didn’t Lord Rennovar come and apply his healing?"

This time, Alaric set the documents aside and leaned back in his chair. "He did. And yet, Soren still hasn’t woken up. It’s strange, isn’t it?"

For a moment, the two simply looked at each other.

’Hmm, Soren... So now he’s calling him by his name, huh? Interesting.’ Cael thought to himself.

Alaric’s expression remained neutral and plain while Cael wore his usual faint smirk yet there was something different in the prince’s eyes, it’s not as sharp or calculating as before.

It grows softer, but just slightly.

To anyone else, the change would have gone unnoticed but Alaric, who had known Cael since they were young, could tell. And that subtle difference unsettled him more than Soren’s endless sleep.

"Well, if healing isn’t enough to wake him up, shouldn’t we try another measure?" Cael said lightly. "You know... I’m actually worried about him. Truly."

Hearing that, Alaric couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle, one that never quite reached his eyes. "Surely you jest, Your Highness. You? Worried? Who exactly are you trying to fool?" He then closed his eyes for a brief moment and shook his head.

"I’m serious," Cael replied.

He leaned forward, resting a finger against his cheek as he tilted his head, then glanced up at the tent’s ceiling as if thinking.

"And what measure would that be?" Alaric asked with calm tone and measured. "What if he simply doesn’t want to wake up because he’s exhausted?" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Hah. Him? Tired?" Cael scoffed, shaking his head before letting out a small laugh.

"Have you forgotten the first day we arrived? Even after days of travel, the moment we reached the fortress, he worked himself to the bone without resting once." He leaned back again, crossing his arms.

"We both know what kind of person he is, Duke. He’s a handful, annoyingly so. No matter what you throw at him, he stays determined and never crosses the line. And don’t get me started on how he keeps his guard down all the time that it tests my patience."

As Cael spoke, his expression grew oddly thoughtful.

Listening to him, Alaric found his interest in Soren deepening especially at how easily the healer seemed to unsettle the prince.

"I see," Alaric said slowly. "Though I can’t help but think you’re the one most invested in him, Your Highness."

Cael laughed. "And aren’t you the same?" he shot back. "Anyway, as I was saying, why don’t we try another way to wake him?"

"Are you suggesting we throw him into deep water?" Alaric asked flatly.

"Oh my, Duke, what do you take me for?" Cael said in mock offense. "I mean... you know those children’s fairy tales, don’t you?"

"I fail to see your point, Your Highness."

"Hah, don’t play dumb." Cael smirked. "I’m saying you could try kissing him. You know... his lips are quite soft." He tapped his own lips, eyes glinting with mischief as he looked at Alaric.

Alaric stiffened, flinching just for a moment before regaining his composure. "What a ridiculous idea."

Cael only laughed. "Is it?"

"Yes, such a ridiculous idea," Alaric replied firmly.

"But aren’t fairy tales like that?" Cael pressed on, clearly amused. "You know, the prince kisses the princess, and she wakes from a deep slumber."

"And then they live happily ever after?" Alaric scoffed and shakes his head again as he lifted himself up. "Truly ridiculous. I don’t even know why such fairy tales exist. They only make fools of children."

"Aww, don’t be so bitter," Cael said with a light laugh. "Why not try it? It worked on him when I did it, alright? Believe me."

He shrugged casually, unable to hold back his chuckle as he watched Alaric’s expression shift to being annoyed but sometimes completely unreadable.

’Haha, he’s always so interesting to tease. I can’t get enough of his expressions,’ Cael thought.

Just as Alaric was about to leave the tent, Lyric and Sylas stepped inside.

"Oh, Your Highness, you’re here?" Sylas said, his gaze shifting between Cael who was lounging on the couch, and Alaric, who stood near the entrance as if caught mid-step.

"Brother, are you heading out?" Lyric asked, quickly stepping aside to give him room.

"Yes. Did you need to speak with me?" Alaric replied.

"Ah, yes. It’s actually about Lord Hawthorne."

Gideon Hawthorne, heir to the Marquis Hawthorne household and the young noble knight Soren had once saved. He had suffered a severe injury to his lower body during the subjugation mission.

Miraculously, Soren’s healing restored him, and he was sent back to the capital to recuperate.

"Hm. Then let’s hear it." Alaric turned back and returned to his seat at the table as the twins moved toward the couch, stopping near where Cael was resting.

"Uh, before that..." Lyric hesitated, then asked, "How is he? Did he wake up?"

The moment the words left his mouth, all three of them turned to look at him.

"W-what? Did I say something wrong?" Lyric asked, suddenly uneasy.

They didn’t answer.

Instead, they narrowed their eyes at him while studying him as if trying to uncover something hidden. The silence stretched, making Lyric shift in place.

"What? What is it? Stop staring at me like that, okay? You’re scaring me!" he said, trying to sound playful.

"Hm," Cael murmured before leaning forward until his face was uncomfortably close to Lyric’s, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Since when did you get so close to him that you’re asking about his condition especially to the duke, hm?"

"Enough of that. Let’s hear what you have to say, you two..." Alaric interrupted with a deep sigh, clearly tired of the banter.

"Tch... what a killjoy," Cael muttered while pouting as he leaned lazily against the couch and crossed his arms.

Meanwhile, Arctelle had spent the past four days confined to a tent under strict arrest.

He was only allowed to have breakfast and dinner, with no snacks or lunch, and had been suspended from his duties as one of the palace-appointed healers as a punishment personally decreed by Cael.

Arctelle tried to argue, but the prince’s hands on investigation revealed an even darker truth that Arctelle had actually devised a heinous plan that could have resulted in Soren’s death during the mission.

Fortunately, the beast had intervened and foiled him.

In the end, Irlian, who had been on edge around Arctelle, testified against him.

Irlian, who had been on edge around Arctelle, testified against him.

As a result, Cael gave Irlian only a warning but he also informed Lord Vensworth, Irlian’s father, of everything that had transpired during his son’s stay.

Irlian, who knew better than anyone how strict and ambitious his father was, could do nothing but bow his head with sweat dripping down his temples, unable to form a single word.

His father had specifically tasked him to do whatever was necessary to gain merit, bring honor to their house, and ensure not to offend any noble yet here he was, not even halfway through the designated period in the north and he had already failed to win favor, caught the attention of the nobles, and risked putting their house on the wrong side of power.

"So, that works to our advantage, then, since we’ll have to send one of the healers back to the capital anyway," Alaric said, tapping a finger on the table thoughtfully.

"He actually requested Soren personally to assist him during his stay here, brother," Lyric interjected, drawing the gazes of Cael and Sylas toward him once more.

’Hmm... he too?’ Cael thought with a faint amusement flickering behind his usually quiet expression. ’This is getting more interesting.’

’W-wait, what? Lyric... actually calls that commoner by his name?’ Sylas’s forehead wrinkled in disbelief. Lyric, noticing, only pouted teasingly.

"And what are you thinking right now?" Lyric flicked a finger at Sylas’s forehead.

"Ow! That hurts, you...!" Sylas yelped, rubbing the spot.

"Hmm... alright. But will Lord Hawthorne be joining the subjugation again?" Cael asked while staring at Alaric.

"Well, wasn’t that mentioned in the letter they sent?" Alaric replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, and please make sure to give the letter addressed to the healer. The Hawthorne household sent some gifts as a token of gratitude," Sylas added.

While the four continued their discussion, Soren lay inside the bedroom with a thin curtain the only thing separating him from the meeting outside.

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, the light of the room making him squint.

"Hmm... w-where am I?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertain and groggy.