I cleared my throat and straightened my posture.
“Well then, Miss Annette. Could you show me the room that the previous healers used?”
“Sure, but there’s nothing there, you know?”
I chuckled at her unfunny joke.
“Surely that can’t be the case. They must have kept various things.”
“Really? I haven't seen anything, though…”
“Do you mean because they left the clan?”
“No, that has nothing to do with it. Is there a problem?”
I fell silent.
Annette might be competent as an adventurer, but when it came to healers… she clearly knew nothing.
“When a healer runs out of divine power inside the dungeon, what do you do?”
“Well, in that case, they’d drink holy water.”
“Holy water? What on earth would that accomplish?! You’d be better off drinking sugar water! …Forgive me.”
My irritation slipped out, but I quickly masked it with a cough and composed myself.
“Indeed, holy water is convenient,” I said, my voice calmer. “It can be used for wards or to banish spirits. And yes, drinking it will restore some divine power. But if you intend to cast a proper spell on that recovery alone, you’d have to drink about a whole bathtub of it…”
“Eh? R-really?”
I was growing tired of explaining.
“That stuff is for washing your body or used as everyday drinking water…”
Annette’s eyes flew wide.
“You drink holy water!? No way! Are you secretly filthy rich!?”
“Even a quack healer could make that stuff easily.”
Making holy water was the most basic of basics, no special talent required. Even I, fresh as I was, could do it without effort.
“B-but… our healers couldn’t make any.”
“Priests and healers both receive the blessing of Mother Asclepia. She may be stingy, but she isn’t shameless. As long as you keep up your daily prayers, that much is granted…”
This conversation was dragging.
“Standing here isn’t ideal. Do you have a proper place where we can sit and talk?”
We were still in the entrance hall.
“A-ah, s-sorry! The salon is over the—”
“Somewhere we can discuss work, if you please.”
I let out a weary sigh.
◇◆
I inspected the rooms where Olympus’s two former healers had stayed, but just as Annette had said, there was nothing.
Nothing but empty bottles, beds, closets—mere scraps of ordinary living. I had expected at least something useful to remain, but no.
Not a single tool or implement that a healer might need.
“…I thought Alex was just a muscle-brained fool, but perhaps she’s sharper than I gave her credit for.”
Firing the healers had been the right call. She wasn't just reckless, after all.
In the multipurpose room Annette led me to, I interrogated her.
“No salves or potions, either. Are they stored elsewhere?”
Annette puffed up with pride as she answered.
“Those are for rookies. We don’t keep a single one.”
…Hopeless. If I didn’t fix this soon, they’d all get themselves killed.
“As I asked before, what happens when a healer runs out of divine power? Divine power isn’t infinite, you know.”
My recovery was abnormally fast thanks to Dietrich’s existence, but normally, divine power replenished slowly.
Annette gave me a smug look.
“Of course I know that much.”
“…Then what do you do when a healer can’t heal? Leave the injured to suffer? Wait for divine power to recover while they groan? What if they die in the meantime? You need something to bridge that gap.”
Talking to fools was exhausting. Irritation boiled over into a rapid-fire tirade.
“Listen carefully, pointy-ears. I’ll say this once. Potions, salves, and antidotes—they’re bulky, yes, but anyone with a little training can make and use them. If you cannot grasp the utility of that, you’re beyond saving.”
How much was her stupid pride worth? Her own life? Her comrades’?
I was about to continue when Zoë slipped a chip of Kyara into my mouth.
“!!”
A faint sweetness. Peppermint. The cool aroma swept through my senses.
“Forgive me.”
When I returned to myself, Annette was pouting, eyes glistening with tears.
“It’s only natural Alex kicked out those charlatans…”
Most likely, that muscle-head had known the healers were frauds—and kept them, anyway.
Thinking about it, healers gain little from venturing into a dungeon. They didn't need to risk themselves. They could wait outside, like Abby had me do, and treat the endless stream of wounded coming their way.
But then she found me—and changed her mind.
I have a bad feeling…
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time.
If my prediction was correct, we didn’t have the luxury of sitting idle.
“Before Alex returns, we must acquire all necessary supplies. Expenses, of course, are to be covered by you. Agreed?”
“Fine…”
Honestly? You're crying just because a ten-year-old scolded you? Annoying.
I ruffled my hair in exasperation.
“For starters, prepare me a private room on the first floor.”
Annette wiped her reddened eyes, forcing a smile.
“You’ve decided to join our clan after all!”
I spat the bit of incense straight at her face.
“Who said that, you fool? When the injured are carried in, the first floor is the most practical location!”
Seconds can make the difference between life and death. There’s no time to haul patients upstairs. Depending on their numbers and condition, the entrance hall itself could become a field hospital—a hellscape. That’s why the first floor needed the healer’s tools, medicines, and space for the wounded. That was the reason behind my request, but…
“Pointy-ears, what do you take life for? Don’t you dare make light of it!” Read complete version only at novel fire.net
“W-what!? You don’t have to get so angry!”
At last, Annette burst into tears.
My irritation only mounted until Zoë slipped another piece of incense. I popped it into my mouth.
Minty freshness, always enough to steady me.
“Miss Annette… Things will get busy. Please gather everyone in the clan, right here.”
I had already spent massive amounts of divine power healing Ashita. Though some had recovered, I was at thirty percent.
And with Pointy-ears ignorance and that muscle-head’s recklessness combined… things could spiral into a real mess.
I had no time for pride.
I hated corpses. I hated the wounded. Pride could wait; I could reclaim it later.
If nothing happened, fine. Let them laugh at me—better that than blood spilled needlessly.
◇◆
My child.
Time is finite.
Any danger that can be imagined will, one day, certainly come to pass.
Prepare while you still have time.
Cast aside honor and wealth if need be.
When the hardship is overcome, those things will follow.
—Words of Asclepia