The Priestess in the Cathedral had been acting a bit strange lately.
The first to notice was the Boss Lady at the village grocery at the entrance.
She remembered it vividly: just a few afternoons ago, Miss Celia came to buy some salt.
When it came time to pay, she stared at the copper coins in her hand for ages—so long that the Boss Lady started to think she’d given her the wrong change.
That look in her eyes wasn’t the way you looked at money, more like she was sizing up some bizarre object she’d never seen before.
“It’s probably that batch of wild mushrooms acting up,” guessed the Old Hunter.
Everyone in the village knew, not long ago, the Priestess and her assistant, Lynn, had gone up the mountain and brought back a basketful of brightly colored mushrooms.
Lynn swore up and down that they were all edible, but who could say for sure with things from the mountains?
The villagers murmured among themselves for a while, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Still, that didn’t stop them from liking the young Priestess.
She had a good temper, spoke softly, and her healing skills were the real deal.
As long as she was in the Cathedral, everyone felt at ease.
As for Celia herself, she certainly had no idea she’d become the villagers’ dinner talk.
Right now, she was huddled in her room behind the Cathedral, lost in thought before a half-length dressing mirror.
In the mirror was a fifteen-year-old girl. Pale green, soft hair hung to her shoulders, matched by a pair of green eyes, clear as water-soaked glass beads.
The baby fat on her cheeks hadn’t completely faded yet, making her look even younger than her age.
Everything seemed fine—except for two things.
Height, about one-fifty-five, at most. And then, her chest, so flat it was almost negligible.
“Sigh.”
A soft sigh.
She’d lived in this body for fifteen years. But she’d only truly looked at it with a clear mind for the first time three days ago.
Her memories had returned. To be precise, memories from a previous life.
The memories of a man named Li Wei, who came from a place called Earth, and lived for twenty-four years.
He died from overwork.
Whenever Celia thought of the last scene from that memory: the office lights at three in the morning, a screen full of code, and that fierce stabbing pain in his chest—
She just wanted to cry for herself.
A textbook case of a corporate drone’s ending.
From being a twenty-four-year-old man to becoming a fifteen-year-old girl in another world—if this were a novel, it’d be considered a heaven-sent opening.
But when it really happened to her, Celia found herself surprisingly calm.
Maybe that instant of sudden death had burned out all her emotions.
Or maybe fifteen years of a girl’s life had already trained her hormones into compliance.
Either way, the gender swap didn’t make her panic much.
She’d been a man for twenty-four years; now she’d live a different way.
Nothing wrong with that. Just like starting a new game with a different character.
And, to be honest, the new character’s looks weren’t half bad.
Celia reached out and poked her cheek in the mirror—soft and squishy, with a good feel to it.
She tried pulling a smile; the girl in the mirror smiled shyly back.
Alright then, this would do. From now on, she was Celia.
Celia, fifteen, joined the Cathedral in the city after a Magic Surge, studied for a few years, and was sent here to be Priestess—with Lynn as her assistant.
For someone who’d been ground down by society and died at her desk, this job was practically paradise.
No quotas, no 996, and no bosses making empty promises.
Every day was just chanting scriptures, helping villagers out, tending to scrapes and bruises.
Wasn’t this the kind of life she’d desperately wished for in her last life?
Thinking of this, Celia felt her heart settle, and she even began to plan excitedly.
Like, turning the empty patch behind the Cathedral into a vegetable garden.
Or experimenting with the herbs of this world, maybe making some potions and selling them for extra money.
She didn’t want to be pushed forward by others, only to end up squeezed dry and thrown away like a rag, ever again.
This life, she’d live for herself.
Just as Celia was lost in her retirement plans, someone knocked at the door.
“Celia? Are you in there?” It was Lynn’s voice, a little urgent. “Hurry! They’ve brought in an injured man!”
Her thoughts scattered, Celia quickly put away her wild ideas, straightened her clothes, and opened the door.
Outside stood Lynn, half a head taller than her, face full of anxiety.
Behind Lynn, a few people were gathered around a long bench, leaving space for a human form.
Celia hurried over.
A young man lay on the bench, dressed like an Adventurer. His leather armor was torn to shreds, and his face and arms were covered in cuts.
Most alarming of all was the gaping wound on his chest, so deep that white ribs showed through, flesh turned outward as if some beast’s claws had ripped him open.
The Adventurer was unconscious, his breathing barely a thread, his face gray as old parchment.
“He’s from the Gray Wolf Mercenary Group,” Lynn explained quickly beside her.
“They ran into a Demonized Grizzly Bear in the Black Forest. He was the only one who made it out, dragged back by a passing hunter.”
Celia said nothing, kneeling down to examine the wound closely. It was worse than she’d thought.
The flesh around the wound had turned an abnormal dark purple—that was the corruption of the monster’s evil energy.
If it wasn’t dealt with immediately, he wouldn’t last the day.
Celia recalled what she’d learned in the nun’s classes. Purification first, stop the bleeding, then Healing. The order couldn’t be wrong.
She stood up and pulled a Holy Codex from her waist pouch.
“Lynn, go prepare bandages and hot water.”
“Got it!” Lynn dashed off.
Celia opened the Holy Codex, pressed her palm to its pages, closed her eyes, and focused, murmuring an incantation under her breath.
Obscure syllables tumbled from her lips, carrying a sacred melody.
With her words, the pages of the Holy Codex began to glow with a gentle white light.
“In the name of the Holy Light, cleanse the filth.”
A milky-white orb of light floated from the book, drifting to the Adventurer’s chest and sinking into the wound.
“Sizzle—”
A sound like roasting meat, as black smoke billowed from the wound, foul and acrid. The unconscious Adventurer groaned in pain, his body jerking.
The dark purple around the wound faded rapidly, the flesh regaining its healthy color.
Purification complete.
Next was Healing.
A pale golden light enveloped the wound, and the torn muscles began to squirm, knitting themselves together.
But the wound was too deep—once wasn’t enough.
Celia summoned her inner power and chanted the spell again.
A second Healing.
Fresh tissue wove together, closing the gash.
Sweat slid down her cheek, dripping onto the tiled floor.
A third Healing.
The light was just a small cluster, weak as a candle in the wind, but stubbornly bright.
When it faded, the deadly wound was gone, leaving only a fresh pink scar. The Adventurer’s breathing grew steady and strong.
Celia swayed, nearly collapsing, but Lynn returned in time to catch her.
“Celia, are you alright? You’re pale as a sheet.” Lynn’s voice was full of concern.
“I’m fine, just a little drained.” Celia waved a hand, leaning against Lynn as she caught her breath.
At that moment, the Adventurer on the bench woke up. He sat up groggily, glanced down at his chest, and saw only unbroken skin.
He froze, then suddenly remembered something and looked up at Celia.
“You saved me, didn’t you?” the Adventurer said dazedly. “I remember that bear tearing into me…”
Before Celia could reply, the Adventurer was already kneeling before her.
“Great Priestess, thank you so much! You saved my life!”
Looking at that earnest face, Celia found herself momentarily lost.
So this was what it felt like to be needed?
She suddenly thought this job might be a lot more interesting than she’d imagined.