EP 5. The Warmth of This Unease (2) — The Warmth of the Decoction
When the Saintess’s breathing slowed a little, the Hero quietly picked up the phone from the nightstand.
He did not close the bedroom door all the way.
Leaving a narrow gap, he stepped out into the living room and connected to the Management Bureau’s night guidance line.
The call was not long.
The agent asked one by one about the fever, the prickling in her throat, the dizziness, and how much she had eaten. There was a brief sound of records being turned.
“In the early stages of settlement, there are cases of strong reactions to local viruses. Even if Divine Power remains, you can regard the progression as similar to a common cold or flu.”
The Hero glanced once toward the bedroom.
Beyond the door gap, the Saintess’s breathing continued softly.
“Do I need to take her to the hospital now?”
“If there is difficulty breathing, lowered consciousness, or persistent high fever, move to the hospital immediately. For now, hydration, temperature checks, fever-reduction support, and rest take priority. If she can drink something warm little by little, that would be good.”
The Hero’s hand tightened a little more firmly around the phone.
“And please have her avoid using Divine Power tonight. If she tries to lower the fever herself, the fatigue can build up further.”
“Understood.”
Even after the call ended, the Hero’s thumb lingered briefly on the darkened screen.
From inside the bedroom, the Saintess stirred slightly.
The Hero turned off the screen and walked toward the kitchen.
The Saintess opened her eyes at the sound of water boiling.
The sound of boiling water somewhat resembled the sound of heating holy water deep within the temple.
Soon came the sound of a cup touching the countertop.
A spoon lightly tapped the rim of a glass jar.
The towel on her forehead had grown lukewarm.
With half-open eyes the Saintess raised her hand and lightly touched the edge of the wet cloth. The coolness from when it had first been placed had almost vanished. She pressed the cloth once with her fingertips to settle it against her forehead, then lowered her hand back onto the blanket.
The room was dark.
The cup on the nightstand was still within reach. The Hero’s outerwear hung on the chair beside the bed, and one of the chair legs sat slightly askew toward the mattress.
The Saintess slowly pushed herself upright.
The inside of her throat prickled. When she swallowed, a dry texture scraped past in a thin line.
The light from the kitchen was low.
Leaning her back against the headboard, the Saintess looked beyond the open door gap. The Hero stood in front of the gas range. His T-shirt sleeves were pushed up a little, and his hair was mussed from being roughly raked back by hand.
Steam rose from a small kettle.
The Hero opened the lid, sniffed the aroma, then immediately frowned a little.
The Saintess smiled very slightly at that expression. The laugh caught in her throat and never became sound.
He picked up the honey jar. With a small spoon he put in one spoonful and stopped. Then he added half a spoon more. Still holding the spoon, he looked down into the kettle for a moment.
The Saintess’s fingertips pressed the blanket a little.
Steam rose again from the kettle.
The Hero turned the flame down low and brought his hand beside the kettle.
The Saintess watched quietly, thinking he was checking the temperature.
A very faint yellow light spread from his fingertips.
The light was quiet. It bloomed very faintly in one corner of the dark kitchen, mixed briefly among the steam, then blurred away like a ripple.
The Hero withdrew his hand and covered the kettle. Even after covering it, he pressed the lid once more for no particular reason.
The Saintess lightly bit her lip.
Only then did the Hero turn around.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
The Saintess cleared her throat.
“I was sleeping well.”
“That usually means you weren’t sleeping.”
“I just woke up.”
The Hero took out a cup. As he poured the decoction from the kettle, steam rose with a low sound. The aroma crossed the door gap and entered the bedroom. The spicy scent of ginger came first; after it, the sweet fragrance of jujube and honey mixed in slowly.
The Saintess blinked at the scent.
“Is this… medicine?”
“Something like medicine.”
“Something like?”
“Something you can drink.”
He came into the bedroom holding the cup. Before sitting beside the bed he checked the side of the cup once with the back of his hand. After a brief hesitation he cupped it again with both hands. He waited a little longer, then this time rested the back of his hand near the rim.
The Saintess watched that quietly.
“Trying to make it less cold than before?”
“This time, less hot.”
“Ah.”
“You couldn’t drink the first one.”
“How hot was it?”
The Hero looked at the steam rising over the cup.
“Hot enough to burn your mouth.”
“And you were going to bring that?”
“I didn’t bring it, did I?”
The Saintess laughed. Her throat hurt a little, but a small laugh escaped.
The Hero held out the cup.
The Saintess received it with both hands.
It was warm.
Fingertips that had shrunk back when holding a cold water cup now wrapped a little more fully around the circumference.
The Saintess looked at his fingertips before she looked at the cup.
The yellow light at his fingertips had already subsided.
When the Hero let go, the Saintess wrapped the cup a little more firmly.
“Is it hot?”
The Saintess shook her head.
The Hero pulled the chair beside the bed closer and sat.
The Saintess first smelled it.
“The scent is strange.”
“I figured it would be.”
“I don’t mean it in a bad way.”
“Not in a good way either?”
The Saintess looked down at the cup.
“In a way I don’t know yet.”
“Then try drinking a little.”
The Saintess set her lips to the rim of the cup.
The first sip was hot. It lingered in her mouth briefly before she swallowed. The spicy taste of ginger rose first; after it a very thin bitterness passed. The Saintess frowned a little.
The Hero’s hand stopped near the cup.
The Saintess shook her head. The cup remained in both her hands.
A little later the honey taste remained.
“It’s bitter.”
“Yeah.”
“But the end is sweet.”
“I put in honey.”
“A lot?”
The Hero did not answer; he only pushed the empty plate on the nightstand a little to the side.
The Saintess looked at that face, then looked down at the cup again.
“You put in a lot.”
“You have to be able to drink it.”
The Saintess took another sip.
This time she swallowed a little more slowly. The prickling inside her throat was the same, yet it did not scrape past as sharply as before. The place where the heat had passed became a little rounder.
The Saintess stayed still, wrapping the cup with both hands.
There was no light rising straight from her fingertips the way it did when she prayed.
Instead, a low, round heat remained below her throat.
The warmth that had passed through fire and water and medicinal herbs slowly settled inside her body.
The Saintess looked at the Hero over the cup.
The Hero was already realigning the lid of the closed honey jar. It did not end with one turn; he twisted it once more for no particular reason.
The Saintess smiled small.
“If it’s hot, drink slowly.”
It was already after two sips.
The Saintess did not answer; she only wrapped the cup a little closer.
The heat on her forehead was still heavy.
Instead, the warmth that had gone down below her throat made her breath a little rounder. The tension that had entered her shoulders every time she swallowed loosened little by little.
The Saintess took another sip.
This time her throat was less startled.
The Hero sat in the chair watching the cup. When the Saintess raised her eyes, he adjusted his posture for no reason.
The Saintess looked at him over the cup.
“The sound of being careful is louder.”
The Hero paused briefly.
“There hasn’t been a sound yet.”
“It seemed like there was about to be.”
“That’s a bit unfair.”
The Saintess tried to laugh, but her throat prickled so only the corners of her lips rose a little.
The Hero saw that expression and pointed to the cup.
“A little better?”
The Saintess’s gaze lingered briefly inside the cup.
She took another sip and followed the heat passing inside her throat.
“It still hurts.”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s less pointed than before.”
The Hero muttered lowly as if following those words.
“Less pointed.”
“Is it strange?”
“No. Easy to understand.”
The Saintess looked down at the cup.
Now it was a little easier than at first. Knowing that the sweet taste came at the end, she set the cup to her lips again.
When the Saintess tried to put the cup down, the Hero pushed the thermometer on the nightstand aside for her.
She placed the cup there briefly, then picked it up again before the warmth in her palm could cool.
A faint smell that had drifted from the kitchen still lingered in the room.
Holding the cup, the Saintess looked at the Hero’s hand. It now rested quietly on the armrest of the chair.
She looked at that hand for a moment, then looked into her cup.
And silently drank the last sip.
After she finished, her mouth was sweeter than she had expected.
The Saintess set the cup down.
The Hero pushed it to one side of the nightstand. His hand began to rise toward the towel on her forehead.
The Saintess’s hand moved first.
The edge of the towel had shifted a little. She lightly folded the wet cloth with her fingertips and fitted it to her forehead.
The coolness was still unfamiliar.
Her hand lingered a little longer on the edge of the towel. She pressed the wet cloth once more to settle it against her forehead.
The Hero watched that quietly.
“You okay?”
Without taking her hand from the rim of the cup, the Saintess chose her breath for a moment.
Her body was still heavy. The fever remained, and her throat was not completely comfortable.
Still, the warmth of the cup remained in her palm.
The low heat that had passed inside her throat also stayed slowly.
“I’m not all better yet.”
“Yeah.”
The Saintess pressed the edge of the towel on her forehead once more.
The cool cloth lay on her forehead, and the warmth of the cup still remained in her palm.
“But… I think it’s okay to stay like this for now.”
The Hero’s eyes softened a little.
“Then that’s good.”
The Saintess closed her eyes, then opened them again.
“Hero.”
“Yeah.”
“Do I have to drink this tomorrow too?”
The Hero chose his answer briefly.
“Probably.”
“Then a little more honey than today.”
“I put in a lot today already.”
“Just a little more.”
The Hero eventually laughed.
“Okay.”
The Saintess relaxed the corners of her mouth a little and closed her eyes.
The Hero pulled the blanket up a little. The Saintess tried to tuck her hand that had been outside the blanket back inside, then paused briefly.
Her fingertips brushed the hem of the Hero’s T-shirt for the briefest moment.
She met his gaze briefly, then let go. The warmth of the cup still remained in her palm.
The Hero pulled the chair beside the bed a little closer.
This time he moved very slowly. Still, the chair leg scraped the floor and made a small sound.
With her eyes closed, the Saintess moved only her lips a little.
“I heard it.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The voice was small, but the end of the words settled slowly.
On her forehead the lukewarm towel remained, and from the empty cup a very faint scent of ginger and honey rose.
While that scent lingered in the room, the Saintess closed her eyes and exhaled a little longer.
The heat inside her body had not completely gone down.
Still, between that heat, a very thin yellow warmth remained for a long time.
