Will You Dance with Your Father?

"You look unwell today, my lord."

A retainer said this to Viscount Ahental, who had convened a meeting in his study.

"Must be the restless dream I had."

What a strange dream it was. Erena walking up to greet me, then going on her way... If she was finally well, she could have stayed a little longer with her father. Where was she in such a hurry to go?

Roan von Ahental.

He was the head of House Ahental, and among every lord the house had ever known, the one judged to have expanded its influence the most. In his youth, they said, he had revered the martial path and gotten into his share of trouble. Now he was a man so devoted to his duties that some found him stifling.

Even he carried a wound that would not close — his daughter, Erena.

Born with a congenital disability, she had grown up never knowing the joy of walking. He had spared no means to cure her. If something was said to be good for the body, he paid extra to obtain it and fed it to his daughter. If a famous priest was rumored somewhere, he brought the man in to treat her.

To help his young daughter understand that exhausting process, he had made a habit of saying it would make her well. After she called him a liar of a father at the age of eight, he stopped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠saying it so freely.

Even so, the viscount did not stop. He poured enormous donations into the Church, cycling through priest after priest, and had countless prayers recited over Erena.

The year she turned fifteen, he finally gave up.

At her first social debut — sent even if it meant putting her in a wheelchair — his daughter had overheard ugly gossip.

The youngest daughter of House Ahental has no faith in the gods, and her soul is unclean, which is why the priests' treatments do not work.

He had heard that vicious rumor with his own ears. The wound it dealt his daughter needed no saying — but the viscount himself had been no less wounded. From that day on, he never allowed the word "treatment" to be spoken in front of himself or Erena.

The retainers stopped bringing him information about priests. Health tonics vanished from the gifts presented to Viscount Ahental.

And then, recently, that viscount had heard a new title: the Saint of the Foreign Race.

So Sir Messi possesses such extraordinary healing arts?

Ereb had mentioned it, but he hadn't taken it to heart. He'd considered it an unobjective assessment. The one who hadn't been objective, however, was himself. If Ereb had said as much, he could have at least put the man to the test — and he hadn't.

It was bound up with the trauma of the past.

If he could heal Erena...

Failing to heal his daughter had become the regret of a lifetime. If only she could be made well, he would have given even his soul. If the man succeeded in treating his daughter, he was prepared to let him live in luxury for the rest of his days. Whatever other wish he might have, it would be granted without fail.

If only the treatment succeeded!

But... what if he fails as well?

It was only a hypothetical, yet fear surged up all at once. Moreover, Heal magic, if mishandled, carried severe side effects. The thought that he might kill his daughter in trying to heal her was terrifying. That was why he had sought famous priests but never famous healers...

"Father, Ereb and Erena have arrived."

"Show them in."

He had been in a meeting with his retainers in the study when Ayres entered to report. Before long, Ereb, Erena, and Messi came in together.

The moment Messi entered, every retainer's gaze locked onto him. It was the rumors.

A healer who surpasses Sir Benedict, the Silver Paladin.

They say he can even wield holy power...

His lordship has brought a truly remarkable man.

The murmuring thickened. Messi realized it was because of him. Beside him, Ereb gave him a nudge.

"How does it feel, Saint of the Foreign Race?"

"Ahem. We are in the presence of the family head."

"So what? Father's already heard that I dropped the formalities with you."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Viscount Ahental walked over.

"Ereb. You've worked hard."

"Not at all, Father..."

"I thought it strange when you suddenly went off with the volunteer corps... but I hear you not only led your companions well, you set a fine example besides. I'm proud of you."

"I couldn't stop thinking about the sick people of the territory, either. Every last one of them is a pillar holding up House Ahental. I couldn't just leave them."

He even produced a theatrical sniff. In truth, Messi had forcibly loaded him into the carriage, but Ereb promptly acted as if it had all been his own idea. Messi clicked his tongue inwardly.

The reaction, however, was excellent. The retainers nodded along. Viscount Ahental clapped his second son's shoulder with evident pride, then, as if following a set order, looked at his daughter.

It always pained him that he had to look down to see her — but today, he could look at her with joy.

"And Erena. Thanks to that fine idea of yours, the lives of our people have improved. Our house's reputation has risen as well. And that's not all — with the mining slaves fully recovered, the mines' productivity will improve."

There had been over a hundred injured mining slaves, and with them back in the field, the gain in efficiency was only natural. On top of that, the food and money spent caring for the wounded had been considerable, so expenses had fallen.

"I'm glad too. I've always been the one receiving care — and now I was able to help you, Father."

He could not help but be moved by his daughter's admirable words. Viscount Ahental gave Erena a light embrace, then finally looked at Messi.

"Sir Messi."

"Yes."

The quietly warm tone of address startled Messi. Had this man always had such a gentle voice?

"If you have any further surprises in store, tell me now. It's not good for the heart."

"I'll be careful."

"Haha. I jest. To you... I can only say thank you. Until now, this house has had many guests who took, but never a guest who gave. Sir Messi, you are that guest."

"You honor me too highly."

Viscount Ahental hesitated a moment, then continued.

"There is one more favor I would ask. It may be a burden to you, but..."

"...?"

"My daughter Erena... can you treat her?"

The moment the words fell, the study erupted into commotion. The retainers, of course — even Ereb and Erena were stunned. The man who until now had forbidden even the mention of the word "treatment" had spoken it first.

Ayres burst forward, flushed with anger.

"Father! Erena has suffered enough already! Why would you repeat the same mistake?!"

"I am not repeating the same mistake."

At the viscount's words, everyone fell silent.

"I am going to... treat Erena."

He looked down at his precious daughter. She, too, seemed ready — her eyes were shining. Ereb grinned. His father had said first what he himself had meant to ask. Nothing could be better.

"Well? Will you do it?"

There was a force in the viscount's question that admitted no refusal. It meant he had deliberated that thoroughly ever since hearing the rumors about Messi.

Messi had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waiting for this moment as well. He had taken the long way around to untie a tightly bound knot, and at last the knot had loosened.

"Of course, my lord."

Benedict visited House Ahental to keep his promise to Messi. Except for calling on Ayres a few days prior, it had been nearly two years. He had been the last priest to try to heal Erena, and it had not ended well, which he still regretted.

Hmm... I've failed to keep my promise to the Saint. What am I to do?

What he had pledged to Messi was to apologize, as a representative of the Church, to Viscount Ahental and Lady Erena. He had tried to persuade the monastery's superiors, but the results had been poor.

It couldn't be helped. If I hadn't seen the Saint's Holy Fire and miracles myself, I wouldn't have been persuaded either.

Through this affair, he had learned that sometimes one has eyes and still cannot see. The monastery's priests were likely the same. On top of that, he had heard that House Ahental's regular donations — which they had pledged to resume — had been cut off again. It was only natural that the reaction toward him inside the monastery was less than warm.

Still, I've stayed at this monastery quite a long time. Perhaps it's time to move on.

Benedict knew from experience what results followed such reactions, and he decided to leave before he could be disappointed. Before that, he would come to House Ahental himself and apologize separately.

Of course, he still did not believe he had failed to heal her because his divine power was insufficient. But after hearing Messi's words and meditating on them, he realized he had driven a nail into the hearts of a patient's family.

I was citing research that the devout have a far better prognosis than unbelievers... but of course they would find that offensive. To still be so lacking in my studies...

Sighing, Benedict wandered through House Ahental. Strangely, today he saw neither soldiers nor maids nor attendants.

"What's this? An outsider walks in and not a soul stops him. Has something happened?"

Bewildered, Benedict entered the inner keep of House Ahental.

Something had indeed happened. Something enormous.

About thirty minutes earlier, word that Messi would treat Erena had spread through the household, and every servant of House Ahental had come running.

"Will the young lady get better this time?"

"She has to! That Saint of the Foreign Race or whatever they call him is supposed to be incredible."

"Oh, please! Lady Gaia, help our young lady!"

It was something every one of them desperately wished for. That was how great Erena's kind influence had been on the people of this house. She was special enough that they hoped for her recovery with one heart and one mind.

Hundreds of people had crowded into the corridor near the family head's study, where the treatment was taking place. Someone with a scrap of reason left spoke up.

"Should we even be doing this? We're abandoning our posts."

"Young Lady Erena might stand up! How can we stay at our posts?!"

He was quickly shouted down. Soon he, too, abandoned reason and joined the vigil.

The corridor outside the study was in an uproar, but inside it was strangely silent. Even with Viscount Ahental, his family, and the principal retainers gathered, not so much as the sound of a swallow could be heard.

At the center were Erena and Messi. Watching the two of them, Ayres's expression was ugly.

Damn it... if that foreigner gets Erena on her feet... then what?

He was her older brother, so of course he wanted his only little sister to rise from her chair. Politically, too, marrying off a healthy sister would send her to a better house, which made her more valuable. But if Messi was the one who did it, the matter grew large.

Wouldn't that put him in a realm this household couldn't even touch... an inviolable domain?

It was a chilling thought.

If there is a god, then this once, look away from Erena.

It was a terrible thing to think — but that was Ayres's true heart.

Ereb's feelings, by contrast, were the opposite. He stepped up to Messi and Erena and tossed out a light joke.

"Messi, don't put pressure on yourself. Even if you fail, there's not a soul in this house who'll blame you. We've been through this hundreds of times. Heh heh."

"Brother, do you really have to say something that unlucky right now?"

"Ah, no, I was... joking..."

"I was joking too."

Erena laughed with surprising ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boldness. Like brother, like sister.

"Lady Erena, you're not nervous?"

"I'm the one who's been through those hundreds of failures. What's there to be nervous about?"

If it worked, wonderful. If it didn't... she would go on living as she did now. She had come to think that wasn't so bad either. Messi resolved that he absolutely had to see that unflappable girl look surprised.

Ereb clapped Messi on the shoulder.

"...I'm counting on you."

"You've never seen me fail. Why so tense?"

"Heh. Cocky bastard."

Now it was truly time. Ereb stepped back at last, and everyone looked at Messi.

"I'll begin."

Ah...!

This time... it might actually work.

The magnificent golden radiance of Holy Fire drew gasps of wonder from everyone present. But Viscount Ahental did not let go of the thread of tension. He had marveled just the same when Benedict the Silver Paladin had come to treat her — and in the end, the treatment had failed.

Please... Lady Gaia, I'm sorry I stopped seeking you. Help us just this once... If Erena can walk, I'll pay the Church donations diligently from now on...

Beneath the viscount's prayer, Messi reached a hand toward Erena.

Golden light poured down. Struck by it, Erena trembled in shock at the vitality circulating through her body. She even felt, involuntarily, as if strength were gathering in her thighs.

But that was no illusion. At this moment, Messi was taking in Erena's physical information and, at the same time, overwriting it with the physical information he himself possessed.

Can I do this?

He had never attempted it, so he could not be certain. This was not changing his own body, but someone else's. A congenital disability was not a wound or an injury, and so it lay outside the domain that ordinary Heal could treat. But with that talent of his — or what he presumed to be a talent — couldn't he do it?

It's difficult... If it had been easy, that would have been absurd in its own right...

Rewriting another person's physical information was a matter of real difficulty. Adjusting everything was impossible; he focused on the minimum goal. Making Erena able to walk. Overlaying another person's information onto her nervous system.

At the very least, up to Gaston's physical level...

The treatment continued for more than ten minutes. Compared to the way he had healed patients in an instant, it was taking a long time, and a look of dismay even crept onto Ereb's face. Ayres, who would never miss that, was cheering inwardly.

Haha! What an idiot. Common sense says hundreds of priests failed at this — and that one guy's going to pull it off?

He even found his own earlier anxiety laughable.

And then the light faded, and Messi stepped back from Erena's side.

"...?"

Could it be? With every eye upon him, Messi gave Erena a look. And what could that look mean? If he had failed, he would have shaken his head. He wouldn't have given her a look. Yes — as if telling her to try standing.

"Ah... ah...."

Viscount Ahental approached his daughter. Tears stood in his eyes. Come to think of it, she had said that not being able to dance with a partner had been sadder than the gossip she'd overheard at her first social debut. The viscount held out his hand to Erena.

Erena, too, took that thick hand of her father's and put strength into her legs.

Trembling...

Slowly she rose. Her legs shook, but she stood with difficulty — then collapsed into Viscount Ahental's arms. Even that was enough for the viscount. For the first time in her life, his daughter had planted both feet on the ground and stood on her own.

"She did it... she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did it...!"

Clutching his daughter, Viscount Ahental broke down and wept.