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Two hours later.
After finally stepping out of the clinic and closing the door behind her, Lanafette let out a heavy sigh.
That was terrifying.
These people who do medical research are truly terrifying.
Just in those two hours, over a dozen hairs had been pulled from her head, and all her nails had been trimmed—this whole ordeal didn’t feel like a diagnosis at all, more like some kind of paternity test for a rare species.
As for the countless magic tests, like casting spells and charging mana storage devices, there were simply too many to count.
Although the total mana she used wasn’t even a tenth of what it took to conjure an Ice Rose, the sheer number of tedious experiments left Lanafette utterly exhausted in both body and mind.
Fortunately, when the other party excitedly asked if they could cut off a piece of her for further study, Lanafette chose to refuse.
Good grief, did she really look like she was ready to be dissected for research?
Luckily, although Sandrina looked regretful at not getting any tissue samples, she didn’t try to force the issue. Instead, she quickly lost interest in Lanafette herself, becoming absorbed in the containers filled with samples of Lanafette’s body and mana.
As for Lanafette, who was left standing there dumbly, Sandrina simply told her to come back early tomorrow, without giving any reason. This made Lanafette, who always considered herself to have a “good temper,” seriously tempted to give that woman a beating.
Honestly, could you at least tell me if you can cure me or not? After slicing off a bit of me for your research, you just lose interest?
But remembering that the other party was the only one who might be able to cure her Soul-Loss Syndrome, Lanafette chose to endure.
At worst, once she’s cured, she could always pick up a stone and smash Sandrina’s window.
Walking alone through the city streets, Lanafette lost her sense of purpose and wandered aimlessly, like a headless fly.
By coincidence, she ran into that beggar boy again, but his situation was even worse this time.
Several kids, a few years older than him and dressed in rags—likely refugees themselves—had cornered him in an alley.
Vicious, vulgar curses spilled from their mouths, and their fists and feet showed no mercy as they landed on his thin frame.
But the boy just curled up, desperately protecting something in his arms.
“Hand it over! We saw what you’re hiding in your coat!”
One kid yanked his hair hard, trying to use pain to force him to give up whatever he was guarding.
Even when he was pulled over and thrown onto his back, the boy didn’t give up. He twisted and rolled, still clutching his arms tightly around his chest.
This only enraged the older kids further. The one who’d pulled his hair, frustrated, kicked him a few times. Then, catching sight of a stone nearby, his eyes turned fierce as he picked it up, ready to smash it down on the boy.
But just then, as a chill swept over his arm, the older kid found he couldn’t let go of the stone. Looking down, he realized both the stone and his hand were frozen together in a block of ice.
The sudden turn of events made the kid cry out in shock. Though he’d acted tough, he was still just a child; faced with this, he was so frightened he fell straight onto his backside.
The others, who’d been beating the boy, also backed away in alarm, not daring to move recklessly.
“Dong——!”
A deep, resonant thud came from the direction of the street. They turned their heads to find a young woman in Mage robes standing there, though they hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived.
Her wide-brimmed hat tilted forward, hiding her face, and the sound they’d heard must have come from the tall staff she’d planted upright on the ground.
This sight made none of the older kids dare to move. It was obvious she was a Mage, someone way out of their league. Even the boy whose hand was frozen didn’t dare to make a sound.
Lanafette had stood watching for quite a while, torn over what to do.
Should she save this poor child? But what good would that do?
If he could be bullied once, there’d be a second and a third time. Lanafette could save him now, but she couldn’t save him forever. Doing so would only satisfy her own hypocritical sense of kindness. Worse, after she left, the boy might suffer even more vicious revenge from the older kids.
Ansera had told her more than once: witches are the will of the Demon God, the embodiment of the world’s rules, and shouldn’t interfere in the world for personal desire. But thinking back, Lanafette realized she’d done plenty of things just to satisfy her own wants, pretty much forgetting Ansera’s advice.
As the stone was about to come down and the boy’s life hung in the balance, Lanafette finally acted.
Standing silently before the frightened older kids, Lanafette didn’t say a word. She just stood there, waiting for them to leave.
She didn’t know what she ought to do next. Even if these older kids were bullies, they were only driven to it by hunger and desperation. If they were willing to run away on their own, that would be the best outcome.
Fortunately, living in such harsh conditions had made these kids far more mature than others their age. They knew that when facing danger, you shouldn’t fight back or freeze up—those who did were already dead. The ones who survived chose to run.
The kid whose hands were frozen was the most terrified. He rolled on the ground several times before scrambling to his feet and fleeing deeper into the alley. The others followed, disappearing in a flash.
The first kid to run didn’t realize that, the moment he bolted, the ice binding his hands had already shattered. He was still clutching the stone out of instinct.
Lanafette had never intended to hurt them, so the seemingly solid ice wasn’t even cold enough to freeze the kid’s hands.
Seeing them run off, she let out a sigh of relief and turned her attention to the boy who had been beaten.
She reached out, wanting to ask about his injuries, but in the end, her hand stopped mid-air, and the words stuck in her throat.
Just then, the boy stumbled to his feet.
Lanafette finally saw what he’d been protecting: two thin flatbreads and a small herb, still dusted with a bit of soil.
If she remembered correctly, that herb was used to stop bleeding. With dirt still on it, it clearly hadn’t come from a shop, nor could it be found within the city. That meant the boy must have left the city to pick it himself.
As for the two flatbreads, though they were still faintly warm, they’d gathered quite a bit of dust.
The boy, distressed, brushed at the flatbreads to get the dust off. But when he saw a few crumbs fall, he quickly stopped, afraid to lose any more.
He seemed to want to pick them up, but, noticing Lanafette watching him, he didn’t bend down.
He bowed respectfully, still not daring to look Lanafette in the face, but judging by her attire, he had clearly recognized her.
“Thank you for saving me, kind Mage.”
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