A Broken Arm and a Maskless Face
''Dammit... it's broken...''
Apis stared at her swollen right arm, the joint clearly dislocated, and let out a sigh that sounded almost like a groan. Her usual tone was as indifferent as if she'd simply snapped a wooden chopstick. That was hardly surprising. For Apis, who had fought on the front lines of countless dungeons, an injury like a broken arm was nothing new. At this point, the pain from a fracture was little more than an annoyance.
''Haa...''
Even so, the reason damp moans occasionally slipped from Apis's lips was simple. It hurt. Not her body—her heart.
Soon, Apis's bewildered gaze turned toward the Hero, who lay sprawled across the sofa with her eyes gently closed in sleep.
''No wonder she seemed off...''
Every time the Hero drew in a ragged breath and let it out, the scent of alcohol tickled Apis's nose and made her frown.
''Just how much did she drink...? Seriously...''
The Hero had resistance to all kinds of poisons, yet for some reason she was notoriously weak when it came to alcohol. It seemed that while she was busy cooking, she'd taken a few sips of the cooking wine under the pretense of tasting it. Given how much food she'd been preparing, Apis figured the Hero had unknowingly far exceeded her own tolerance.
''You idiot.''
After clutching Apis's arm and sobbing for a long while, the Hero had eventually passed out. Apis, whose heart had dropped to her stomach thinking something terrible had happened, couldn't help but curse.
''Ugh...''
As if responding to Apis's irritated voice, the Hero let out another groan. Whether from a hangover or a nightmare, it was hard to say. The Hero's brow was deeply furrowed, and she kept tossing and turning as though in distress.
Apis wanted nothing more than to pat her back or lay a hand on that forehead beaded with cold sweat. But approaching the Hero in her current state was tantamount to suicide. So Apis could only watch her pitiful movements from afar.
At that exact moment, a fly that had been drawn in by the smell of food happened to hover above the Hero's head.
Crunch.
Thud, thud.
Immediately afterward, the fly's remains—sliced cleanly in half—fluttered to the floor like fallen leaves.
This was always what happened when the Hero lost consciousness. Her mind might be asleep, but her body remained awake. The merciless way she reflexively bisected anything that came within a few meters of her made her seem less like a living being and more like a golem programmed with a single command. Even her own blood relative, Victim, refused to go anywhere near her while she slept.
There was only one person who could touch the Hero in that state.
Only that priest.
''Huu... huuuh... I'm sorry... I was wrong...''
Listening to the Hero's occasional sleep-talking whimpers, Apis thought to herself: Just what was she apologizing for?
In the past five hundred years, Apis had never met a single person more virtuous than the Hero. Moreover, humans were by nature a greedy race that lived according to their own desires. Apis didn't think that was particularly bad. It was far better, she believed, than the elves, who isolated themselves from the secular world, clung to a desireless and empty mindset, and insisted that becoming one with nature was the only path to truth. That kind of tasteless, chewed-out gum existence held no appeal.
What was so wrong with being honest about one's desires? In this harsh world, the only one who could truly embrace and understand you was yourself.
It was the Hero who had corrected Apis's narrow-minded views.
She was altruistic. Devoted. Even when faced with hardships that threatened the safety of people who had nothing to do with her, she was always brave and valiant.
Yes. It was as if she had been born solely to become a hero.
Apis tried to recall even one moment when the Hero had placed her own selfish desires above the greater good, but she soon gave up. There had never been such a moment.
Until just recently, Apis had considered the Hero's flawless demeanor—her form like a perfect sculpture crafted by the Creator—to be magnificent and admirable.
But now, she seemed like a being missing something that every living creature should possess. It was like watching a child who had lost something precious yet didn't even know how to be greedy, only able to stand there helplessly.
''Too damn kind for your own good...''
Her tone was so gentle and tender it was hard to believe she was speaking to the person who had broken her arm.
The Hero and the priest. Apis didn't know exactly what had happened between them, but she could say one thing with absolute certainty.
The Hero needed that priest.
''Well, fine. Looks like I've got the perfect excuse to see his face.''
Apis glanced once at her broken arm, took a deep breath, and made up her mind.
She couldn't drag him back by force. That would only backfire. The key was to make the priest return here of his own free will. It was obviously going to be an incredibly difficult challenge, but facing such obstacles was simply part of daily life for Apis, a member of the Hero's party. Besides, she had never once missed a target she had set her sights on.
''......''
Apis fell deep into thought. Material bribes or physical torture wouldn't work on him. Even if they might, someone who could be swayed by such vulgar methods would never have survived the brutal journey with the Hero's party in the first place.
That left only one method.
Use her own strengths and strike at the opponent's weaknesses.
''Honey trap...''
It was a common elven prejudice that human males with little experience with women placed great importance on a woman's virginity. And the opponent was a man who had never been in a relationship with a woman in his entire life. A so-called virgin. In Apis's opinion, the odds of success were more than sufficient—they were overflowing.
''I'll just sleep with him and drag him back! If that bastard counts as a man, he won't be able to resist going crazy over a virgin!''
He'd go crazy, all right.
If Lazis had been present, he would surely have muttered those bitter words. Elves already had faint reproductive instincts and strong insular tendencies, making it easy for their perceptions to become warped through contact with other races. But Apis had spent all her time outside the village solely on survival, training, and collecting fairy tales. As a result, her warped views had reached a rather serious level.
Therefore, to Apis, having her first experience with a man was no more significant than finally taking care of some annoying chore she'd been putting off. It felt about as weighty as a modern person going to get their driver's license.
''Just wait! Hero! I'll bring that bastard right back here!''
Because the moonlight had faded, Apis had no way of knowing that the Hero's already deeply troubled face twisted even further upon hearing her resolute declaration.
''Then first of all...''
''What in the world...''
It was early morning. At any other time, the diligent woman would have already finished preparing for the start of her day and then some. Yet here she was, still in her disheveled nightgown, not even having changed into her nun's habit, and she hadn't even left her bed yet.
''All my scars... they're completely gone...?''
The beautiful woman holding a hand mirror and touching various parts of her face with a look of utter shock was Beltein. Beltein Angelas Ashes. The highest-ranking nun in charge of overseeing the entire monastery. Only a handful of people knew she was the Saintess's blood sister.
''This can't be... Th-this is impossible...''
Her doubt was entirely reasonable. The scars she had believed would never fade in her lifetime—the ones she had carved into herself with firm resolve—had been wiped away without a trace.
Healing broken or severed body parts with holy power was difficult, but not impossible. However, healing scars that had already healed over was something that lay beyond the scope of holy power.
Beltein had once heard rumors of a medical technique from some nameless country outside the Capital that removed scars by grafting new flesh onto the affected area. But she had also heard that the process required a considerable amount of time, so she soon shook her head.
Just who could have done this?
As she brushed her hair back, lost in unexpected thoughts, a hazy fragment of memory rose like steam in Beltein's mind.
'Excuse me, Sister... If you sleep in a place like this, your mouth will go crooked...'
Her face immediately flushed red.
''Could it be... that Priest Regis...?''
The thick, masculine hand that had held hers. The gentle voice. The warm energy that had seeped layer by layer into her exhausted body. All of those visions were so indistinct that she couldn't tell whether they had been a dream or reality. Even though she had struggled to recall them, it was impossible to reconstruct the logical sequence of events from such vague memories.
''Haa... Huh? Wha—?''
Right then, her dazed gaze fell weakly downward and caught sight of her own thin nightgown.
''Kyaaak!''
Crash!
Beltein screamed shrilly enough to fling the hand mirror from her grasp in shock.
''N-nightgown!? D-did someone change my clothes while I was sleeping!? Wh-who!? D-don't tell me! It couldn't be! P-Priest Regis!?''
Had some kind of accident occurred? Had something happened between her unconscious self and him?
For a long time she frantically patted down every part of her body, searching for any trace—real or imagined.
''C-calm down. Calm yourself, Beltein. You know he isn't that kind of person. It's Priest Regis, after all...''
Soon, she regained her usual composure and slowly rose from the bed.
''Hm...?''
As Beltein stepped down from the bed, an unfamiliar sense of discomfort made her shiver. The chronic shoulder stiffness she had thought she'd have to live with forever due to her natural physique was gone. The occasional stabbing pain in her lower back from overwork had completely vanished as well.
It felt like a bright morning from so long ago she could barely remember it. A refreshing sensation as if every heavy burden weighing on her body had been cast off. An invisible pure-white energy thinly overlaid on her skin sent a direct jolt of omnipotence into her mind, even breathing vitality back into her exhausted frame.
''Just what is this...?''
Shaking off the questions that kept rising with every step, Beltein hesitantly opened the door.
Creeeak.
''H-hic! I-I'm sorry, Sister...''
''Sister Marianne? What on earth are you—''
Marianne, the apprentice nun who assisted Beltein in every task, was standing right outside the door, tears and cold sweat streaming down her face.
And standing behind Marianne was—
''Oh. Your bare face looks way better than when you wore that mask.''
A member of the Hero's party. The Divine Archer, Apis.
At the appearance of this unexpected visitor, Beltein's already chaotic mind barely managed to swallow back the shrill scream that nearly burst from her throat.