The tall figure practically shoved aside the crowd, as Astreia carried Wendy in her arms, striding swiftly through the bustling Celebration Banquet Hall.
Along the way, every soldier noticed what was happening.
When they saw what the Princess was holding—a stunningly beautiful young man, his clothes stained with blood and his face deathly pale—the thunderous cheers instantly dropped by several octaves.
Everyone instinctively stepped aside, making way for them.
“Heavens! Lord Wendy is injured! Which bastard did this?!”
“Look at Her Highness’s face—she looks like she’s about to kill someone… If I were the culprit, I’d already be digging my own grave.”
“Haven’t you noticed? Even wounded, Prince Wendy looks so pale and fragile, so pitiful… It just makes you want to bully him even more…”
Supported securely by a pair of strong arms, his cheek pressed against the luxurious silk gown, Wendy’s nose was filled with the mingled scents of Princess Astreia—faint sweat and a delicate hint of daisies.
Wendy’s heart, which had been pounding wildly after his brush with death, finally began to settle.
A human shield—she was the very embodiment of safety.
The Infirmary was located in a quiet corner at the rear of the fortress.
Candlelight flickered, and the air was thick with the scent of herbs, mixed with a cloyingly sweet aroma of some exotic flower.
Inside the room, a veiled woman stood with her back to the door, arranging rows of crystal-clear potion bottles.
She wore a low-cut white robe, showing off an astonishingly voluptuous figure.
Especially those coconut-sized curves—just a glimpse from the side radiated a ripeness and allure that seemed to seep from her very bones.
Unfortunately, such beauty was utterly at odds with the local standards—no one here knew how to appreciate it.
“Your Highness, are you hurt?”
Hearing the commotion, the Priestess set down her bottles and slowly turned around.
Her voice was soft and seductive, and behind the veil, a pair of deep, bottomless violet eyes shimmered, as if they could steal one’s soul.
This woman… is dangerous!
Wendy’s heart skipped under her bewitching gaze, and an absurd impulse flashed uncontrollably through his mind.
He wanted to step forward and kiss those eyes.
No, something’s wrong!
This feeling was a hundred times stronger than when he’d been ogled by those wolfish noblewomen at the palace!
“It’s not me, it’s Wendy!”
Astreia carefully set Wendy down on the sickbed, her voice anxious.
“He was cut by a dagger. Please, use the best Divine Arts and herbs—whatever you do, don’t let him be scarred!”
The Priestess glided silently to the bedside, beginning to examine the knife wounds on Wendy’s arm and calf.
As she leaned over, a faint, seductive sweetness invaded his nose even more aggressively.
That scent…
Wendy’s memory was suddenly stirred.
It felt strangely familiar, as if he’d smelled it in a dream.
But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t remember whose scent it was.
The Priestess gently brushed over Wendy’s wounds, her fingertips icy and slick, with a touch that felt oddly like some kind of cold-blooded creature.
She didn’t use Divine Arts right away, but instead took from a tray beside her a thread spun from some unknown beast’s tendon and… a silver needle.
“Wait, ma’am, what are you doing?”
Wendy stared at the needle, his scalp tingling.
“You’re not going to use Divine Arts to heal me directly?”
What’s going on?
Aren’t Priests in games supposed to just cast ‘Quick Heal’ and your HP bar fills right up?
Why is it suddenly time for needlework?
Does Sunset Fortress’s insurance not cover advanced Divine Arts?
Or is this Priestess just a hardcore fan of physical stitching?
But the Priestess said nothing.
She simply pressed Wendy’s shoulder gently with her slender fingers.
A gentle, irresistible force told him not to move.
The next moment, the silver needle pierced his skin!
“No, no, no, no—huh?!”
Wendy shuddered all over, nearly doing a backflip on the spot.
But the searing, tearing pain he expected didn’t come.
Instead, a strange, prickling numbness mixed with a hint of pleasure spread rapidly from the wound through his body.
It didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was almost addictively pleasant in a sick way…
Seeing Wendy’s stunned expression, Astreia couldn’t help but smile and comfort him: “Wendy, don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
Clearly, Princess Royal was very familiar with this method of healing.
With no other choice, Wendy lay back, resigned.
“All right then…”
The Priestess’s stitching was skillful and precise, as if she were crafting a work of art rather than treating a wound.
But what made Wendy’s skin crawl was her gaze.
Every time her fingertips touched his skin, those violet eyes flashed with a look of admiration, obsession, and… fanaticism, as if she were appraising a rare treasure.
No, something’s wrong.
The way this woman looks at me is all wrong!
This isn’t how a doctor looks at a patient… it’s how a taxidermist imagines which pose will preserve their prey’s beauty for all eternity!
I’m doomed—I’ve run into a top-tier lunatic.
“Um… Miss, may I ask your name…”
Wendy forced himself to stay calm, trying to fish for information.
Please don’t tell me she’s a max-level player come to the newbie village for fun.
“I am but a humble servant of the Goddess. My name doesn’t matter.”
Her reply was gentle and pleasant, but as soft and impenetrable as a wall of cotton, blocking all of Wendy’s questions.
Great, a tight-lipped maniac on top of everything else.
Soon, both wounds were stitched up, each one tied off with a neat little butterfly knot.
Only then did the Priestess begin chanting a Divine Arts incantation in a slow, measured tone.
A gentle Sacred Light poured from her palm, enveloping Wendy.
The wounds healed rapidly before their eyes, the scabs falling away, leaving behind only two faint pink marks.
Yet Wendy could vaguely sense, beneath that holy warmth, a trace of chilling cold that didn’t belong.
It was like someone had poured a small bottle of ice-cold cola into a steaming bowl of chicken soup.
Was it just my imagination?
Wendy shook his head, trying to dismiss the odd thought.
The treatment was over.
The Priestess handed Astreia a small jar of fragrant ointment.
“Apply this to Prince Wendy once a day. In three days, he’ll be as good as new, without a trace of a scar.”
“Thank you so much! You’re truly the treasure of Sunset Fortress!”
Astreia let out a long sigh of relief, the weight finally lifting from her heart, and gave the Priestess her sincerest thanks.
But Wendy clearly saw that the Priestess’s gaze toward Astreia carried a hint of undisguised amusement and pity.
As if she were watching a moth caught in a spider’s web, struggling desperately only to entangle itself further.
Just as Astreia finished thanking her and was about to pick Wendy up and carry him back to his room to rest, that soft, seductive voice sounded again.
“Princess Royal, may I ask you to wait outside for a moment.”
Astreia paused, arms frozen in midair, her emerald eyes full of confusion.
The Priestess’s gaze slid past the Princess’s shoulder, locking onto Wendy.
The corners of her mouth curled up beneath the veil.
“I have some… words of guidance for Prince Wendy. I must speak with him alone.”