Bear It Even If It Hurts
The healing chamber in the heart of Septimoa was a deep-care facility reserved for the critically wounded.
And it was almost always empty.
Septimoa was no front line—no one ever crossed paths with magic beasts here, and neither cultists nor the Demon Realm's minions dared so much as ramp up a tantrum within the capital's walls. There was, in practice, virtually no way to get seriously injured. On top of that, most ordinary plagues and wounds were handled at the temples in the Second Gwak, so the main fortress's healing chamber saw so little use that its doors opened maybe once a year.
Ten years' worth of medical records wouldn't fill a single page. That's how desolate it was.
And yet...
Unfortunately, the star of that rare record had turned out to be me.
This was not a welcome development. The mere fact that the deep-care chamber had opened was already gossip fodder throughout the fortress—and if the patient in question was the Saintess herself, the rumors were bound to spread like wildfire.
"Clarice?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not critically injured."
I could honestly walk just fine, and I could talk too—didn't coming all the way to the deep-care chamber seem like a bit much? Couldn't they just lay me down on a bed in my room and heal me there?
"That's not a call for the patient to make, Unnie. It's mine. Wouldn't you agree?"
I stared at Clarice with that exact thought in mind, but Clarice was unmoved.
Ugh. I'm already dreading how the other Saintesses will react when this news reaches them.
"Hnngh... fine. I'm the patient, so I should listen to Clarice..."
But lacking the courage to refuse her, I lay down on the table and nodded meekly.
"There we go. I'll begin."
Clarice closed the door and clapped her hands together with a sharp crack.
The instant her divine power spread outward, the sigils engraved into the healing chamber began to glow. Soon the entire room was brimming with sacred light.
Considering that it usually took several high priests throwing themselves at the job to activate those sigils, it spoke volumes about the sheer scale of Clarice's divine power and her masterful control over it.
Anyway, a space saturated with divine power like this became a temporary sanctuary that tolerated no evil aura—not even the faintest impurity.
That sounded grand, but really, just think of it as a sterile operating room.
"Now, take off your clothes, Unnie."
"Huh? What did you say?"
I asked again, certain I'd misheard.
"I need to examine your body, so take everything off and lie down here."
But no—I had heard her correctly.
"Ah, come on, taking it all off is a bit..."
Did I really need to strip down naked and embarrassing? Couldn't she just look at the wounded parts?
I gazed at Clarice with the most pleading expression I could muster, but the answer that came back was ice-cold.
"If you're shy, shall I undress you myself?"
"...Never mind. I'll do it."
Being stripped by someone else would be even worse. So in the end, I removed my clothes myself.
Granted, this was in front of a healer treating her patient—but wasn't going completely bare just a little embarrassing?
And Clarice was still fully clothed, which meant I was the only one exposed here. Honestly, it'd be less awkward if Clarice just took hers off too— you insane bastard! What the hell are you thinking?!
Emboldened by embarrassment and clearly not in my right mind, I shook my head violently to shake loose the thoughts that kept wandering somewhere very wrong. With my face faintly flushed, I let out a soft sigh, and before lying down, I stole a glance down at my own body.
The wounds were a little gross, sure, but wasn't this a figure anyone would look at and whistle in admiration?
Yet Clarice, seeing my naked form, didn't marvel at all. She just scrunched up her face.
Somehow, that stung.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Huh? What did you say?"
Seemed like I was asking people to repeat themselves a lot today. My ears weren't broken.
It's just that Clarice kept showing me a side of herself I'd never seen before, so I couldn't help doing a double take.
...A Clarice with a patient in front of her. I'd heard the stories, but she really is terrifying.
"How can you look like this and still claim you're not critically injured?"
"It's nothing, isn't it? When you work in the Demon Realm, wounds like this are practically nothing."
That was a lie.
If wounds like these were nothing, I'd have died in the Demon Realm ages ago.
But with a beauty like Clarice standing right in front of me, I couldn't help puffing myself up a little. And I would come to regret that bravado very, very soon.
Because...
"Really? If it's nothing, like you say, then I can heal it right away without anesthesia, can't I?"
"...Eh? What?"
"The wounds have closed up somewhat, but that actually makes it worse. Treating them like this would leave ugly scars."
Though honestly, what's one scar on a warrior's body? How should I put it... doesn't a scar make you look like some indomitable hero who's crossed a thousand battle lines?
I was about to spout that extremely macho line of reasoning when Clarice's eyes narrowed into sharp triangles, and the words died before they ever left my mouth.
"You'd scar up this gorgeous body of yours, Unnie?"
...Hearing her say it, Clarice has a point. Scarring this body would be a national tragedy.
Besides, I didn't want my pretty body ruined either.
As a woman, that would be quite the blow, wouldn't it?
Wait.
As a woman?
I'm a guy, even if I look like a girl on the outside, aren't I?
Why was I thinking this so naturally?
Before I could find an answer to that question, I froze solid at Clarice's death sentence of a remark.
"Then I'll begin. You're such a strong warrior, Unnie—you wouldn't cry over something like this, right?"
"Begin what? And you really think I'd cry over this?"
"I'll cut the wound open with a knife, burn out the demonic energy, then heal you with sacred law."
"Eh?"
Clarice beamed brightly as she drew out a silver knife with a dazzlingly honed edge, as if she were about to slice a delicious cake.
"Thrashing around would be dangerous, so let me hold you still for a moment."
Before I could even attempt anything, Clarice's sacred law pinned my body flat against the bed.
...Hold on.
I can't move.
I swallowed hard and stared at the knife in Clarice's hand.
"The knife is thoroughly sterilized, so don't worry."
"More importantly, couldn't you give me some anesthesia?"
"No."
"Ah."
Clarice raised the razor-sharp blade.
The knife touched my wound, and—
"KYAAAAAH! AAAH! It hurts! It hurts, Clarice! Go gently, damn it!"
I didn't hold out for even a single second and shrieked like a little girl.
"Does it hurt? Well, of course it does!"
Clarice, transformed from Saintess into merciless surgeon, began carving into the wound without a shred of mercy. Dark, dead blood came streaming down along the blade.
"It hurts! I'm seriously going to die of shock here!"
"You won't die."
"It hurts enough to kill!"
"If I didn't do this, you'd keep spouting that nonsense next time too, wouldn't you?"
Terrifying. Clarice is terrifying!
Still, whether it was Clarice being as considerate as she could manage or me simply getting used to it, the pain didn't exactly diminish... but it was bearable enough. My whole body was soaked through with cold sweat.
"Bear it a little even if it hurts. We're drawing out the dead blood."
"...The room's starting to spin. Is this actually okay?"
"You lost a lot of blood, so of course you're dizzy. But the dead blood is out now, so once I suture you up, you'll actually feel refreshed."
"...I don't feel refreshed, I feel limp. This isn't healing, it's dying, isn't it? Ah... I can see a river, far away..."
"Keep babbling like that and I'll disinfect you with something other than sacred law."
"Ah—yes ma'am."
Spouting nonsense like that was the only thing making this bearable, so having it banned outright left me feeling a little resentful.
"Good. All the damaged tissue is carved out. Now it's time to burn out the demonic energy."
Clarice traced an intricate sacred sigil in the empty air. Dazzling white light wrapped around my body, and the black demonic energy tangled deep inside my wounds began to burn away, evaporating with something like a shriek.
Ssssssss—
"KYEEEEEEH...! I'm—I'm gonna die."
"This is the process of the demonic energy burning off. I can't heal the wound while any of it remains, you know?"
"HIIYAAAAH!"
Still, this was more bearable than having the wound carved open with a knife.
"All the demonic energy is burned away. Now I'll close the wound."
After what felt like an eternity of suffering, I finally emerged with a body healed completely clean.
"Th-that's incredible... Clarice."
Honestly, I was awed. How could she heal wounds that hideous this quickly, without leaving a single scar?
She really is the original heroine, huh? Absolutely incredible.
"P-praising me like that doesn't make me happy at all, you know?"
Clarice's cheeks flushed faintly at my compliment. Honestly, so bad at being honest.
"Still, next time, some anesthesia would be nice..."
I sighed the words out while feeling Clarice's gentle fingers brushing the sweat-damp hair from my face.
"I couldn't have used it anyway."
"...Huh? Why not?"
"The demonic energy from the curse had tangled itself around your nervous system. If I'd given you anesthesia carelessly, your entire nervous system could have been paralyzed along with it."
"Ah. Gotcha."
So that's why. Of course—there's no way a sweet girl like Clarice actually enjoys inflicting pain on people. She'd just been mischievous because I kept running my mouth.
"You're on absolute bed rest for one week. Understood? If I so much as hear a rumor that you picked up your spear and went on a rampage... I can't promise what I might do. Am I clear?"
Clarice said this with a shadow-dark expression, and...
"...I'm scared out of my mind, honestly."
I grumbled in a shrinking voice.
"Your answer."
"Y-yes ma'am..."
In the end, I nodded like an obedient child.
Still, it could have been worse. The treatment had finished faster than expected, and it was flawless at that. My head did feel a bit swimmy from all the blood I'd lost, but well... that would fix itself with good food and plenty of sleep.
And moderate exercise aids recovery, so a little light stretching wouldn't hurt.
...Probably?
Clarice can catch me if she wants.
"So we're all done now, right?"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
Not done? What on earth was left?
"The real problem starts now."
"...What else could there possibly be?"
When I asked in a voice drained of all strength, Clarice answered while looking me dead in the eye.
"Now I have to heal the wound carved into your soul."
"A wound carved into my soul?"
Come to think of it, His Holiness had said I was wounded not just in body but in soul. And a human soul was something you couldn't go poking at lightly, so even the Pope had been at a loss for what to do.
"That's right. If we leave it alone, the worst case is that you could lose yourself entirely."
"Lose myself?"
"Yes. The shell would still be you, but the person inside might not be. You could become an idiot. Your entire personality could change."
"...That's a terrifying thing to say."
Having lived through the Curse of Cognition, I knew all too well how horrifying it was to lose pieces of yourself.
The healing chamber's temperature was perfectly comfortable, but a wave of chills rolled through me and my body shuddered.
"It's all right. I can look into a soul and heal it."
"Now that's the first good news I've heard all day."
"However, first I need you to settle your mind."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Settle my mind—did that mean I needed to take a nap?
"An awake soul is jostled around by stimuli from every direction. It flails and wobbles, which makes it impossible to get a proper fix on its contours."
"Then what do we do? Knock me out or something?"
"...Not knock you out. Put you to sleep."
"Same thing, isn't it?"
"Shall I knock you out, then? I'm not confident, but if you ask me to, I'll give it my best shot. Now where did I put that mace..."
"No thank you. Please just put me to sleep."
Terrifying.
The Clarice of the original story had been gentle and kind, no question about it...
Well, she was still gentle and kind now, technically.
...Did I do something to earn her resentment?
I couldn't recall anything like that... could I?
Ah—could it be because every time the council convened, I beat Leonid black and blue and made Clarice patch him up?
Come to think of it, I did feel a little bad about that.
Not about Leonid. About Clarice.
"Don't resist. Just accept my power. All right?"
"Got it."
From Clarice's palm flowed a white light unlike before—unbelievably soft and warm—and it seeped into my mind.
It felt like sinking my whole body into a bath of warm water. Drowsiness washed over me in an instant.
"Sleep well, Unnie. When you wake, it will all be over. Rest easy."
Her low, quiet voice became a lullaby, and my consciousness sank straight down into deep darkness.
Clarice laid both hands over the chest of the deeply sleeping Beatrice and spent a long while carefully tracing the contours of her soul.
And in the process, Clarice couldn't help but doubt her own eyes.
'...Good heavens. What is this?'
The soul of Beatrice, glimpsed through the sacred law, was a wreck.
This was no mere wound. A massive hole had been blown clean through the very center of her soul, as if a cannonball had struck it dead-on.
It was a wound so horrific that any ordinary human would have died on the spot rather than hold onto a self—or at best been left an empty husk.
And yet something was wrong.
The Beatrice who had been screaming "It hurts! Go gently!" at me just moments ago had been exactly, perfectly, the Unnie I'd always known. How could her personality hold together, completely intact, with a hole this enormous punched through her soul?
'Did she have two personalities? Or was there some other vast something, big enough to fill that empty space?'
But the question didn't last long.
The bizarre spectacle unfolding before her eyes held her so completely captive that she didn't even have a moment to fall into thought.
From the jagged rim of the hole, Beatrice's soul had begun repairing itself at an unbelievable speed. Silver-white divine power tangled like threads of yarn, weaving shut the gap in her soul—a sight that went beyond mysterious and approached the sublime.
'...It's incredible. Her soul isn't damaged at all. How is this possible?'
Clarice withdrew her hands.
As if it needed no one's help whatsoever, Beatrice's soul was already restoring itself to perfection on its own. The only thing Clarice could do—no, the only thing she should do—was keep the woman's body and mind at peace so that the restoration went undisturbed.
Gently, she let her divine power flow in, guiding Beatrice into an even deeper sleep.
Looking down at Beatrice's face, breathing softly and evenly, Clarice let out a sigh of relief—somehow having already forgotten the strange unease she'd felt moments before. And it was then that Beatrice's completely bare, snow-white body, laid out without the slightest concealment, caught her eye.
The flesh that had been tainted by demonic energy was gone without a trace, and in its place grew skin as smooth and white as a lily freshly bloomed.
Beatrice's body drew flawless curves, as if a sculptor had devoted every ounce of care to carving it. And that skin was impossibly soft—so soft it was hard to believe she swung that heavy spear around all day.
"......Ah."
Dazzled by the sight, Clarice caught her breath without meaning to.
I want to touch it. If I pressed down on that smooth white skin, it would surely be springy and soft. She's fast asleep—she'd never know. Just once, surely it wouldn't hurt to...?
After all, hearing the whispered confessions of the Saintess of Hestia—a order forbidding men—if it's between women, then certainly...
In the silent healing chamber, Clarice—throat bobbing as she swallowed, hand reaching out as if spellbound—jerked back with a start and snapped her head away.
A flush of heat raced up her cheeks and spread all the way to her ears.
"Stop...!"
Clarice hastily smacked her own cheeks hard with both palms—a small, crisp slap that rang through the quiet room. She'd hit herself so hard it brought tears to her eyes, but at least her head cleared instantly.
'What on earth are you thinking, Clarice, with a patient right in front of you? Pull yourself together!'
To banish the strange thoughts, she rushed to fetch a clean sheet and threw it over Beatrice's body. Then she went and sat down in a chair, far, far away.
For a long while after that, Clarice had to pray, agonizing over the scene that kept surfacing in her mind no matter how she tried to push it down.