She thought of the thin man with the severed leg, the look of utter disbelief on his face when he stood up, and the ecstatic joy written all over his face after confirming he was cured.
At that moment, her beliefs collapsed.
She had originally thought that the church only knew how to pray, and that their healing magic was inferior to herbs.
But that Holy Light—that damned Holy Light—could cure any illness!
She had studied hard for twenty years, worn down countless scalpels, and poured over medical books late into the night. Yet, in front of that sphere of light, it had all become a joke!
How she hated it!
But she had absolutely no way of dealing with her...
The maid fell silent for a moment, seemingly realizing who Vera was referring to.
“Are you talking about that Saintess?”
“Who else?”
“She actually has that kind of ability?”
The maid was clearly surprised to learn this. Meanwhile, after venting her frustration, Vera gradually calmed down.
Taking a large gulp of ale, she said quietly, “That is why I said my medical skills are not even worth mentioning.”
The maid thought for a moment, leaning forward as her tone turned serious. “But does that really matter? I remember the reason you wanted to become a physician was to save people, wasn't it? Even if medicine can't compare to magic, it is still a remedy to save lives.”
Vera's hand stopped as she poured more ale.
She closed her eyes.
In a daze, she saw herself from many years ago.
Back then, she was just a young girl. Her mother lay in bed coughing up blood, unable to afford a doctor or medicine, wasting away day by day in pain.
She had knelt by the bed, holding her mother's cold hand, and sworn in her heart that she would become a physician when she grew up, so that all poor people could afford medical care.
In the end, her mother still passed away, and she did indeed become a physician.
After that, she kept her promise and began treating the poor for free, until that day...
It was a stormy night. A man rushed in, drenched to the skin, saying his wife was having a difficult labor and was about to die.
She grabbed her medical bag and ran after him. Stepping into a puddle, she tripped and scraped her knee. Blood mixed with mud as it flowed down, but ignoring the pain, she scrambled up and kept running.
The laboring woman lay on a bed covered in straw, her face a pale purple. Blood had already soaked through the mattress beneath her. Worst of all, the baby was stuck in the birth canal in a breech position.
She tried every method she knew—manual rotation, labor-inducing drugs, even risking the use of instruments she had only ever seen in books. In the end, the baby came out, but it wasn't breathing.
The mother also began to hemorrhage. Vera's bag did not have enough hemostatic medicine, nor did she have blood transfusion equipment. She could only watch helplessly as the woman's blood slowly drained away, the light in her eyes fading bit by bit.
As dawn neared, the rain stopped.
The woman's husband squatted by the door, his head buried in his knees, weeping silently. She walked over, wanting to comfort him, but when he looked up, his eyes were completely bloodshot. “Didn't you say you were a good physician? Why couldn't you save them?!”
She opened her mouth, but not a single word came out.
She packed up her medical bag and walked out of the house. It wasn't foggy outside, but everything seemed to be a dull greyish-white, as if the entire world were wrapped in gauze.
She walked in that greyish-white world, unsure of how long she traveled.
That was the first time she realized that some illnesses and pains could not be solved by medical skills, and that the “benevolent heart” she took so much pride in was completely powerless in the face of death.
From then on, she gradually began to change.
After all, she simply could not save the poor.
“Mm,” Vera replied casually to the maid's comfort, clearly not wanting to bring up her past aspirations.
Seeing that Vera wasn't very interested, the maid changed the subject, her tone turning casual, as if discussing some trivial gossip. “Speaking of which, that Saintess was actually kicked out of the lord's manor by the Madame.”
Vera's breath caught, the shock on her face deepening. “What did you say?”
The maid lowered her voice and leaned closer. Although the tavern was noisy, she still adopted a whispering posture. “I only heard about it. They say she wanted to do something bad to the young lady, but the Madame found out and kicked her out. She even had the guards block them from entering the lord's manor.”
Vera's pupils contracted slightly.
She stared at the maid's face, trying to judge the truth of these words. The maid's expression did not look like she was lying.
Perhaps the maid had only heard about it from others, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that this piece of news was like a key, unlocking a door in her heart that was about to close.
“You mean... that Saintess is not as kind as she appears on the surface?” Vera's voice carried a hint of poorly suppressed urgency.
The maid shrugged. “Who knows? In any case, that is what the Madame did.”
Vera fell into deep thought for a moment, and then she smiled.
Seeing her smile, the maid felt a sudden chill in her heart for some reason.
Vera didn't pay it any mind. She stood up, patted the maid's shoulder, and casually took a few silver coins out of her pocket, slapping them onto the table. “Thank you for telling me this. Come, have another drink, my treat!”
...
The next day, Vera did not go to her clinic. Instead, she took several nurses with her to spread rumors everywhere—in the territory's square, taverns, and markets.
“Have you heard? That so-called Saintess is actually a fraud!”
“Treating illnesses for free in the slums? Ha, that's just to win people's hearts! She previously tried to harm the young lady of the lord's manor, and was personally kicked out by Madame Elena!”
“Who knows what kind of black magic she is using to heal those patients' legs? What if there are side effects? What if her Holy Light is addictive? How can we blindly trust things we don't understand?”
“The people of the church have never had good intentions. Have you forgotten how they abandoned Lord Marcus these past few years?”
At first, the commoners were skeptical.
After all, Lovene had cured Wint's leg, which many had seen with their own eyes. Wint could now walk normally and had even found a job as a porter at the docks. This news had spread throughout the slums.
However, Vera was the most senior physician in the territory. She had practiced medicine here for over a decade, saved countless lives, and held immense prestige. Many people chose to believe what she said.
“If Physician Vera says so, then there must be a problem.”
“No wonder the Saintess is treating people for free. It turns out she has a guilty conscience and wants to win us over.”
“We should still go to the clinic for illnesses in the future. It's a bit expensive, but at least it's safe.”
Gradually, fewer people came from the slums.
Lovene sat in that small alley, looking at the mere handful of patients before her. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, and it was unclear what she was thinking. Behind her, Mia instinctively rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
“Your Highness, defaming your reputation is punishable by death under church law.”
Her voice was cold, carrying an inexplicable scent of blood.
Lovene was currently kneeling on the ground, casting Holy Light on a little girl's ankle.
The little girl had tripped in the mist, scraping her knee and swelling her ankle to the size of a bun. Her mother knelt nearby, her hands clasped together, her lips moving slightly as she either prayed or whispered her gratitude.
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