The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 59: “Ah… but, my lord,”

After several days under Caelius’s supervision and Soren’s careful treatment, Melissa finally regained consciousness. The moment the news reached Hector, the man who had once been so openly rude toward both Soren and Lyric, he did not hesitate to bow his head in remorse and going so far as to kneel in apology.

Lyric, who had slowly begun to warm up to Soren, deliberately left the decision of Hector’s punishment in Soren’s hands.

True to his kind and gentle nature, Soren chose not to be harsh.

He just allowed Hector to go with only a week of suspension, not out of disregard for the way Hector had treated him, but because Soren believed it would be better for Melissa and Hector to spend more time together once she recovered.

"Can I not at least see him, my lord?" Soren asked quietly as he ate breakfast with Caelius.

The nurses stationed nearby could not help but steal curious glances in their direction, clearly intrigued by the unusual atmosphere surrounding the two men.

"Unfortunately, Lord Solven was already sent back just hours ago," Caelius replied calmly. "From what I heard, His Grace the Duke still had some matters to finalize before allowing him to return to his estate. That is why his departure was delayed."

"I see," Soren said softly, lowering his gaze as the conversation came to an end.

Soren did not hold a grudge against Arctelle at all.

All he truly wanted was to hear a sincere apology from him. No matter how much Arctelle despised him, pushing someone toward a beast was crossing a line. If it had not been Soren in that situation, someone else would have lost their life.

’Hmm... why does he hate me so much to the point of doing something like that?’ Soren thought with a quiet sigh. ’What did I even do to deserve it?’

He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice Caelius’s gaze resting on him.

"Don’t think too much about it," Caelius said calmly, lifting his napkin to dab at his mouth with practiced elegance. "Whatever happened to him, he brought it upon himself."

Soren looked up at him, startled, not just by the words but by the unsettling feeling that Caelius had somehow read his thoughts.

"Ah... but, my lord," Soren said hesitantly, fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table.

"What if he is never permitted to enter the temple again? I may lack formal education, yet even I understand how sacred it is to be granted the opportunity to serve aside from belonging to the Empire."

Caelius’s eyes widened a fraction.

He had not expected such careful reasoning from Soren. Resting his hand against his chin, he tilted his head slightly, humming in quiet contemplation.

"Indeed," Caelius said at last, his voice calm and refined. "Your concern is not without merit. However, after what was done to you, do you truly harbor no resentment? Given his disposition, one might expect you to find some measure of relief in knowing that judgment has been passed upon him."

"But, my lord," Soren replied softly, "I am still alive."

Caelius stiffened.

The simplicity of the words struck him far harder than any accusation. He swallowed, his gaze fixed on Soren, who had spoken without hesitation or self-pity.

"...Yes. That is true," Caelius said quietly. He then straightened in his seat, folding his hands with practiced elegance before lifting his eyes once more.

"Soren," he continued, his tone now firm yet composed, "you must not regard your own life so lightly. To preserve oneself is not selfishness, but duty. Those who act with cruelty must be held to account, and those who suffer such cruelty are worthy of recompense. Your life holds value far more than you seem willing to acknowledge. Do not cast it aside so carelessly."

With that, Caelius rose from his seat as though the weight of his words lingered even for himself. Appearing to have lost his appetite, he turned and departed without another glance and Soren did not follow.

Instead, he merely bowed toward Caelius’s retreating figure with heart quietly unsettled.

’Hmm, did I say something wrong?’ he thought while back to his seat.

Meanwhile, Alaric sensed a strange distance between his brothers.

The twins.

"Did the two of you have a fight?" Alaric asked calmly as he wiped down his sword.

He had just finished collecting reports from Gaspar, his vice-captain, who was currently coordinating closely with Captain Theron. The matter should have demanded his full attention, yet the stiff atmosphere between the twins was impossible to ignore.

Seeing them stand apart, pointedly avoiding each other’s gaze and clearly reluctant to speak, Alaric let out a quiet sigh and rubbed his temple.

"So," he continued, his voice firm but measured, "what is this about? You are no longer children. Do not allow personal grievances to interfere with your duties here."

The authority in his tone was unmistakable.

At once, the two straightened with their shoulders squared and heads held high. Then, a heavy silence followed and neither of them even dared to glance at the other.

As Alaric studied them, his eyes narrowed slightly. He noticed the faint bruise on Lyric’s lip while Sylas bore no such mark.

"Hm," Alaric said thoughtfully. "Why do you look like you were struck, Lyric? What happened?"

"N-nothing, brother," Lyric replied too quickly.

Alaric extended his arm, holding out the sword. Without a word, a nearby knight stepped forward and took it from his grasp, though Alaric never once looked away from the twins.

"Then you would do well to speak honestly," Alaric said coolly. "If the two of you fought, it will become troublesome for everyone involved. I know you both far too well so do not even consider lying to me."

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Sylas clearly did not understand his twin’s behavior so he shot him a sharp glare, only to be met with a blank, unreadable expression.

"Look at this brat..." Sylas muttered under his breath before turning his gaze toward Alaric.

"Your Grace," he said stiffly, "may I ask how you view that commoner?"