The next morning, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, shining directly into Celia’s eyes.
Celia frowned, her eyelashes trembling a few times before she slowly opened her eyes.
Morning already? But I’m still so tired.
Celia wanted to turn over to avoid the blinding sunlight. Her brain issued the command, but her body refused to obey.
It was as if everything below her neck no longer belonged to her.
Her waist, back, and thighs—all her muscles ached, and even the slightest movement of her fingers tugged at her upper arm, setting off a chain of soreness.
The consequences of yesterday’s hours-long hellish training were showing themselves without mercy.
Celia gave up the idea of turning over and simply lay on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
She was waiting.
Knowing Bishop Kosuren’s temperament, he should already be standing at the doorway, shouting for her to get up and start her morning practice.
A minute passed.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes passed.
It was silent outside the door.
No knocking, no scolding, not even the usual shuffling sound of Elent sweeping the floor.
The quiet was oddly unnatural.
Could it be that Teacher, to punish her laziness, had set up some kind of silencing barrier?
“Click.”
The door opened, and Celia turned her head to look.
It was not the fearsome old man who entered, but a young boy carrying a tray.
Elent walked into the room.
However, his walking posture was odd. Though his feet moved forward, each step seemed like he was stepping on cotton, his body unconsciously leaning to the left, and every couple of steps he had to steady himself against the wall or furniture.
The cups on the tray clinked as Elent moved, and more than half the water had already spilled out.
Having served as a “human centrifuge” for the entire night, it was clear that this Hero Candidate’s body had suffered some short-term, irreversible damage.
“Good morning, Priestess.”
Elent struggled to reach the bedside and set the tray on the nightstand. Even this simple action took him three times as long as usual.
“Where’s Teacher?” Celia asked.
“Gone.”
Elent took a letter from his pocket and placed it by her pillow.
“I found this on the kitchen table. The Thunder Holy Elixir in the Alchemical Freezer has also been taken.”
Gone?
Celia couldn’t care about her aching body and pulled her hand from under the blanket, grabbing the envelope.
There was no signature on it, just wild, untamed handwriting.
Celia tore open the seal and drew out the letter.
[That sugary foot-wash water—only you would treat it like a treasure. To prevent you from blowing up the Church with your reckless Alchemy and attracting the rabid dogs from the Inquisition, I’m requisitioning the formula.]
[To outsiders, I’ll claim it as my new achievement. As for the bag of money on the table, that’s your Confidentiality Fee. Remember, if I hear any rumors outside saying you invented this thing, I’ll come back and break down your Iron Cabinet to sell it as scrap!]
[—And another thing, the idea of using human conduction to stir it is an insult to Alchemy. Don’t ever do it again.]
Celia read the letter twice over.
The invention rights had been taken away?
So that meant she didn’t need to explain the formula to the Church? No need to write tedious reports? And most importantly, she wouldn’t have to go work in the Capital, that nest of intrigue?
A surge of joy crashed through her mind.
This meant she could still be the little Priestess of this remote village, still guard this run-down Church, and continue her leisurely Retirement Life.
And she even got a Confidentiality Fee.
“Praise be to Teacher.”
Celia pressed the letter to her chest and let out a long breath.
This was the most heartfelt prayer she’d made recently.
The crisis was over.
The moment her nerves relaxed, exhaustion crashed back into her twice as hard.
Now, Celia wanted only one thing: to close her eyes and make up for all the sleep she missed yesterday.
“Elent.”
“Yes?”
“Close the curtains.”
Elent obediently did as he was told, and soon the room was enveloped in darkness once more.
“Breakfast is on the table, don’t forget to eat.”
Elent pointed to the tray on the nightstand.
A bowl of steaming oatmeal and two slices of golden, toasted bread sat there.
“I can’t get up,” Celia stated plainly.
“Shall I help you up?”
Celia glanced at her aching arms. Although it was embarrassing, she had no choice but to abandon her dignity for the sake of food.
“No need to help. Feed me.”
Elent froze on the spot.
Feed her?
This seemed beyond a guard’s usual duties. But seeing the girl on the bed, unable even to lift a hand and forced to use her gaze to gesture, Elent found he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
Besides, the two of them had worked together so “harmoniously” under the same blanket last night.
Accepting his fate, Elent picked up the bowl and spooned out some porridge, blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to Celia’s lips.
But his hand trembled.
Not from nervousness, but because his arm muscles were still spasming from the intense spinning last night. The spoon drew erratic circles in the air, never quite matching up with Celia’s mouth.
“Open your mouth, ah…” Elent tried to predict the spoon’s trajectory.
Celia opened her mouth to cooperate, but the spoon bumped into her chin instead, smearing sticky oatmeal onto her skin.
“……”
Celia closed her mouth, feeling the sticky porridge slide down her chin, and looked at Elent expressionlessly:
“Hero, are you trying to feed me, or are you washing my face with the spoon?”
“Sorry!”
Elent hastily set down the bowl, fumbling for a handkerchief to wipe her chin, but he lost his balance and toppled forward, his palm landing squarely on Celia’s chest.
Though separated by a blanket, the softness was still unmistakably clear.
The air froze.
“Sorry!”
Elent’s face flushed all the way to his neck.
“Looks like you need as much rest as I do.”
Celia sighed, not making a fuss over the accident. First, she believed the Hero had not done it on purpose; second, she didn’t have the energy to get angry right now.
“Put down the bowl. I’ll figure something out myself.”
Celia summoned the results of last night’s training—her Spiritual Power.
Though her body refused to move, her Spiritual Power was now more active than ever, thanks to her Teacher’s special training.
An invisible force wrapped around the spoon, lifting it into the air and bringing the porridge to Celia’s mouth.
Although it was less efficient, at least she wouldn’t end up with porridge up her nose.
“You should go rest, too,” Celia said as she chewed.
“Close the door on your way out. Unless the Church collapses, don’t bother me.”
“Yes.”
Elent, as if receiving a pardon, left the room.
Once the door shut, the world was truly peaceful.
Celia finished the last bite of porridge using the floating spoon, then sent the dishes back to the tray.
The blanket was warm, the pillow was soft.
No special training, no monsters, no Teacher.
Celia closed her eyes, preparing to catch up on her sleep.
This was the life.
What a lazy girl.