Chapter 732
Chapter 732
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 732
Chapter Title: Healing
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Self-attribute magic reaches its maximum efficacy when concentrated on a single purpose.
Like how Eloa, the Tiferet Duke, remodeled all her spells into combat-related magic.
She may have sacrificed flexible adaptability and efficiency, but in terms of explosive power for short decisive battles, she forged an overwhelming weapon that surpassed anyone.
However, even with such advantages, cases where all magic is pushed to the extreme are quite rare.
The reason is simple.
The Tiferet Duke could pull it off because she was a high-ranking witch of the 22nd Hierarchy who had inherited the vessel at the time—and would soon achieve the 23rd Hierarchy.
In other words, you need at least the 22nd Hierarchy to minimize the drawbacks of such specialization. Otherwise, the magic itself ends up with serious flaws.
Ye-bin Smirna, who poured all her stats into healing magic, was no exception.
True to her moniker as the "Witch of Healing," every successive Smirna had focused all their magic on healing the physical and spiritual body.
The result? She became the weakest witch in the world. Yet even without reaching the rank of 19th Hierarchy Great Witch, she became an authority on healing magic.
Though she failed to achieve a full cure for unknown reasons—and several awkward mishaps occurred along the way.
Wasn't it Ye-bin who restored Si-woo's brain after it had been reduced to mush?
"Done!"
By fully utilizing the herbs from the apothecary and her own abilities, she had snatched Rinne back from the gates of the afterlife—someone who had essentially been given a death sentence.
Without the proper equipment for the procedure, it was still far from a complete recovery.
Absolute bed rest for at least a month was crucial, but it was an achievement no other witch could replicate.
Even Lydia had fully confirmed Rinne's drawn-out demise.
"......"
But at this juncture, yet another complication lay in wait.
The spiritual body's healing was undoubtedly complete.
It was simply a matter of waiting for natural recovery.
Yet Rinne remained trapped in a semi-comatose state.
She showed reflexive responses to strong stimuli, but voluntary movement was almost nonexistent—and she barely reacted even to pain.
"This is..."
Ye-bin instinctively knew this wasn't a physical issue.
The common thread between body and spirit is their vulnerability to emotions and will.
Rinne simply had no desire whatsoever to wake up on her own.
Cases like this weren't all that rare.
Not always voluntary—sometimes consciousness gets trapped, preventing awakening.
If a patient you've treated fails to emerge from a coma, resulting in brain lesions or brain death, all your efforts are for naught.
The spell designed to diagnose and rouse such states is the Palace of the Unconscious.
Without a moment's hesitation, Ye-bin plunged into Rinne's unconsciousness and flung open the most conspicuous door.
"What is this..."
And even Ye-bin—with her ironclad healer's resolve—found herself regretting it, which was rare for her.
The imagery drawn from the Palace of the Unconscious naturally mirrors the person's life.
The very first vista Ye-bin beheld was a vast expanse of white quicksand swirling beneath a pitch-black night sky.
Here and there amid the churning sands, countless snapped swords with razor edges floated densely.
One glance made it clear.
This was imagery on the "dangerous" end of the spectrum.
A violent unconscious that could easily drag the observer—Ye-bin herself—inside by force if she wasn't careful.
After some internal conflict, Ye-bin opted against venturing deeper.
Upon hearing the details from her, Si-woo declared,
"Then I'll go."
The self-attribute magic he'd gained through his intimacy with Ye-bin happened to be the Palace of the Unconscious as well.
He had used it before to glimpse Amelia's memories and awaken her from her rampage.
Besides, no matter their captive situation, he owed Rinne his life.
Si-woo wasn't heartless enough to stand idly by while she was in peril.
He entered the Palace of the Unconscious, leaped straight into the heart of the quicksand, navigated the twists and turns of her imagery, and ultimately rescued Rinne.
2.
"......"
Rinne's eyes blinked open slowly.
Her body ached with stiffness, as if she'd just awoken from an eternally long slumber.
For Rinne—who needed no sleep in any conventional sense—it had been ages since she'd kept her eyes shut for so long.
"Are you all right?"
She felt a voice laced with concern, along with the sensation of fingers intertwined with hers.
Glancing aside, she saw Shin Si-woo—identical to the figure from her flashbacks.
Rinne's disciple.
The man who had shown her a new way of life.
The family she'd finally found after endless wandering.
She quickly recognized those rough, knobby knuckles as Si-woo's.
Si-woo lay beside her, gripping her hand tightly—just as he had when pulling her free.
"Ah, this is..."
Noticing her gaze, Si-woo flashed an abashed expression and added belatedly,
"It was a necessary step to save you, Master."
He offered the excuse because she'd stared so intently—but having already mingled their bodies so thoroughly moments ago, reversing the order now only made him more awkward.
It was bound to seem a bit off, no matter what.
Until just recently, Si-woo hadn't understood Rinne in the slightest.
He had no grasp of who she was, what life she'd led—or even why she'd gone to such lengths to save him right then.
When she'd declared she'd serve him as her husband, his first reaction had indeed been utter disbelief.
Thoughts as shallow as, "Was the sex really that good?"
But now Si-woo knew exactly who Rinne was.
He'd only skimmed her life story, but it was enough to understand the path she'd walked—what drove her actions, and why she'd clung to him with such fierce attachment.
For anyone else, the warmth of skin against skin while sleeping together might pass as a fleeting night's pleasure.
But for Rinne, it was the tender embrace she'd craved her entire lifetime.
He understood her now on a level too profound for mere words.
So it was no wonder she seemed like an entirely different person to him.
"Should I let go of your hand now?"
"......"
No response from Rinne, even to his question.
The moment Si-woo tried to slyly slip his hand free, her fingers clamped down tight.
"Don't let go."
The curse of deprivation lingered strong.
Rinne felt nothing at all.
Yet her reluctance to release this hand—her sense that it felt cozy—was it merely an illusion?
"Stay like this just a little longer."
And so Rinne gripped Si-woo's hand even tighter.
Not content with that, she struggled to prop up her sluggish body and lean into his embrace—
"...Ahem."
A brief cough snapped her back to reality: they weren't alone.
Ye-bin stood nearby, cheeks flushed, eyes darting everywhere as she pretended to mind her own business.
Si-woo knew Rinne was far shyer than she let on, despite appearances. To avoid any spillover awkwardness, he quickly came to Ye-bin's defense.
"Ye-bin helped tremendously with your treatment, Master."
Rinne—frozen stiff like a wooden puppet—slowly released her grip.
And for the first time since meeting her, Rinne addressed Ye-bin by name.
"Ye-bin Smirna."
"Y-yes...!"
"I owe you a debt. My thanks."
"No need. I merely fulfilled my duty. No overexertion for the time being."
Rinne expressed her gratitude with impeccable politeness, as if nothing had transpired.
Then the faint, lingering softness in the air sharpened into something blade-like.
"What's the situation?"
No point hiding anything from a fellow passenger on this sinking ship.
At last, Rinne and Si-woo's interests had aligned perfectly around one goal: escaping Hexennacht.
Si-woo gave her a concise rundown of events.
Safe arrival at the apothecary and securing Zlata's cooperation.
No incidents during the roughly three days spent aiding Rinne's recovery.
They'd actually formulated the dimensional magic ritual for escape—and now just needed to rendezvous with Dorothy to receive the "gate" magic circle.
And finally, the circumstances of Rinne's awakening.
"With things as they are, all we can do is hunker down quietly for the time being."
"......"
Rinne—who seemed poised to brush it off indifferently, given the lack of drama—clams up like a shellfish.
"Ah, and... I'm sorry for keeping the escape plan under wraps until now. It was unavoidable."
"I understand. No need to dwell on it."
Well, he hadn't expected any reprimands on that front.
From the start, the whole mess had kicked off with Rinne kidnapping him—and she'd vaguely sensed his own hidden agenda anyway.
"......"
But Rinne's reaction felt off.
She had something to say, yet held it back.
Or to put it more precisely: it was like waking up after blacking out from drinks with a close female friend, dreading to ask, "What happened last night?"
In essence, the reluctance to unearth embarrassing memories clashed with the urge to confirm she hadn't made a fool of herself.
"...Just one question."
"Yes."
"The Palace of the Unconscious... it's a spell that lets you peek into memories, isn't it?"
"Not exactly its purpose, but... I did catch glimpses."
Rinne's face fell as if the heavens themselves had crumbled—ever so quietly.
As though she finally understood why Si-woo's demeanor felt subtly different from usual.
"......"
Hers had been a life devoted solely to strength.
Yet the Rinne from her childhood was frailty incarnate—the version of herself she never wanted anyone to see.
"How far did you see?"
Rinne clutched Si-woo's sleeve with desperate urgency.
It was the first time she'd looked this frantic.
Plus, it confirmed she hadn't lashed out at every witch despite her ferocious reputation—a relief for Si-woo.
She'd given him no small aid and devotion. Even with her tragic backstory, labeling her a villain would have left a bitter taste.
But Rinne had always targeted witches stronger than herself—foes prepared to die, or public threats that couldn't be left alive to cause trouble later.
She went to obsessive lengths to avoid killing apprentices, or any witch on the verge of passing on her succession.
"Quite a bit... from your apprentice days and after the succession."
To Si-woo, it had just been heartrending flailing amid a pitiful life—no call for such shame.
Yet Rinne's pale cheeks burned apple-red, her eyes squeezed shut like a samurai facing seppuku.