I Became the Romantic Saintess of a Hero Party That Had No Healer
I never imagined my second life would begin like this.
Warrior. Blacksmith. Mage. Thief. And now, a healer.
After countless failed attempts at subjugating the Demon King, our party had finally become something resembling normal. The only problem? The healer turned out to be me—an old man who had lived well past a hundred years—now reborn as the Saintess.
…This is going to take some getting used to.
The first thing I noticed after opening my eyes was the soft, unfamiliar weight on my chest. I blinked slowly, staring up at an ornate ceiling I didn’t recognize. Golden sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, painting colorful patterns across white silk sheets.
What the hell is this?
My hands—small, delicate, and unmistakably feminine—trembled as I lifted them into view. Long, slender fingers. Smooth skin without a single callus. Nails neatly trimmed and faintly glossy.
I sat up so fast the world spun. The mirror across the room caught my reflection, and for a long moment, I simply stared.
Long silver hair cascaded down my back like moonlight. Wide, amethyst eyes framed by thick lashes. A face so ethereally beautiful it looked like it belonged to a painting rather than a living person. And the body… well. Let’s just say the Earth Mother had been very generous.
“This can’t be real.”
My voice came out soft and melodic, nothing like the gravelly rasp I’d grown used to over a century of battle. I clutched at my throat, then immediately regretted it when my fingers brushed against something far too soft.
Okay. Deep breaths, old man. You’ve died and regressed how many times now? This is just another curveball. You can handle this.
But even as I tried to rationalize it, my heart—her heart?—was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The memories flooding in weren’t just mine. They belonged to Rayna, the young woman whose body I now inhabited. A devout priestess chosen by the Earth Mother to serve as the Saintess in this second attempt to defeat the Demon King.
And according to those memories, the hero’s party had been waiting for her. For me.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Saintess Rayna? The hero and the others are waiting in the audience chamber. Are you ready?”
The voice was polite, deferential. A temple attendant, no doubt. I swallowed hard and tried to steady my breathing.
“Y-yes. Just a moment.”
Even speaking normally felt strange. Every syllable sounded too gentle, too feminine. I forced myself out of bed on shaky legs and stumbled toward the wardrobe. The robes hanging inside were pure white with gold embroidery—elegant, flowing, and far too revealing in certain places for my comfort.
I’m going to die of embarrassment before we even reach the Demon King’s castle.
Still, I had no choice. This was the second round. The previous attempts had all ended in failure because our party lacked proper healing. No matter how strong the warrior was, or how clever the mage’s spells, without a dedicated healer we always fell short.
Now we had one. Me.
I stared at my reflection one last time, adjusting the saintess robes until they sat properly on my new frame. The woman in the mirror looked serene and holy, radiating gentle divine power. Nothing like the battle-hardened old veteran I used to be.
“Alright,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s do this. For the sake of the world… and my dignity.”
As I stepped out of the room, the attendant bowed deeply, eyes filled with awe. “The Earth Mother’s blessing shines brightly upon you today, Saintess.”
I offered what I hoped was a saintly smile. Inside, my mind was screaming.
Just don’t let the hero find out I used to be a grumpy old man who drank too much and cursed at monsters. Please, for the love of all that is holy.
The walk to the audience chamber felt endless. Every sway of my hips, every brush of fabric against my skin, reminded me that everything had changed. I was no longer the cranky support member shouting orders from the backline. I was the Saintess. The romantic, pure-hearted healer the party had desperately needed.
And somewhere deep down, beneath layers of denial and decades of masculine pride, a tiny, unfamiliar warmth began to bloom.
Maybe… just maybe… this second life won’t be so bad.
Saintess class acquired. Divine Power awakened. The Earth Mother has chosen you as her representative. May your light heal the wounds of this broken world.
I felt a surge of warm energy flood through my veins. It was gentle, comforting, and utterly unlike the crude demonic energy I’d fought against for so long. This power… it felt like it belonged here. Like it had been waiting for me.
The heavy doors to the audience chamber swung open. Four figures turned to look at me.
The hero—tall, golden-haired, and radiating righteous determination. The warrior with his massive shield. The sharp-eyed mage flipping through a grimoire. And the nimble thief leaning against the wall with a playful grin.
All of them stared at me with varying degrees of awe, relief, and… something softer I couldn’t quite name.
The hero stepped forward, offering his hand with a brilliant smile.
“Welcome to the party, Saintess Rayna. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I took his hand. It was warm. Strong. And for the first time in either of my lives, my heart skipped a beat.
Oh no.
This was going to be a long, long journey.