Consciousness returned slowly, through a veil of oblivion and the quiet aching background of pain.
Grey felt a light jab in his stomach. At first, he thought it was another echo from the battle. But then the jab came again. Light and careful, as if someone had nudged him in the stomach with their elbow.
He opened his eyes.
Purple strands of hair filled his vision, along with elegant dark horns peeking out from beneath the messy locks.
"Lily," Grey thought. "She must've come back after finishing everything to check on me, but ended up falling asleep."
Her sleepy face had lost its usual bold expression. Pale skin, slightly furrowed brows, and pouty lips puffed up like an offended child's. She looked like a graceful porcelain doll painted by the hand of a master artist.
Normally, Grey would've smirked and teased her, but now he only let out a quiet sigh. It hadn't been a hard day just for him. All of them needed rest. He didn't want to disturb her peaceful sleep.
"Heh, Junior, do you see this?" he quietly muttered into the emptiness, but no answer came. "Sorry about your bad luck, brother. Turns out she's really pretty when she's not pretending to be untouchable."
Grey didn't even notice when he started gently stroking the little succubus's hair. Carefully, as if afraid of scaring away a cat.
Her eyelids twitched slightly. Sensing the movement, Lily slowly opened her eyes. For a few moments, she stared at him blankly, trying to understand what was happening. Then suddenly... she jolted upright.
"D-damn it..." she muttered as her face turned bright red. "I... I just... I was supposed to check on you! Yeah!"
"I see," Grey chuckled. "Very responsible of you. Checking on me and falling asleep beside me so nobody would disturb me."
Lily hurriedly jumped to her feet, mumbled something like "Idiot!", stomped hard on his foot, and quickly slipped out the door.
Soon, everyone gathered around a small campfire hastily lit by Sheryl. Even though the city was burning hot, the forest was fairly cold. No wonder Lily had tried to snuggle up to him in her sleep.
Grey truly felt rested. Using his healthy hand, he divided the supplies between everyone. It was a small piece of bread that had miraculously survived the battle.
While they ate, Grey glanced at his subordinate, Sunny.
"Report, soldier. What's going on with the estate?"
Sunny proudly straightened his shoulders and answered with a cocky grin.
"Abandoned and gloomy. What else is there to report?" After gathering his thoughts a little, he continued, "There's a lot of dust and cobwebs inside. The roof has collapsed in several places, but the foundation is solid. The walls are still standing. The fireplace on the first floor works. A few rooms can be cleaned up for living. Though..." He hesitated. "...this place gives me the creeps. I don't even want to imagine what it'll be like at night."
Aileen and Irene, sitting on both sides of him, nodded energetically in agreement with their brother.
Sheryl added in a quieter voice:
"I didn't find a single trace of beasts. No paw prints, no droppings. Everything's clean, like they avoid this place. But there is a well. Seems like a decent one."
She spoke cheerfully and energetically, but Grey still caught the gloom hidden in her voice. She was still blaming herself for what had happened to him. Maybe if she had been even a little braver and more composed, he wouldn't have suffered such terrible injuries.
Hope didn't say a word, but she watched Grey very carefully. After everything she had overheard behind the door, the detached look in her eyes had changed. Now there was admiration and respect in it. She couldn't even imagine how determined someone had to be to pull bone fragments out of their own shattered arm.
"Not bad. Good enough for now," Grey concluded.
After quickly finishing their portions, everyone got to their feet. Grey stood up as well. Moving was still difficult, but the potion was doing its job. The pain was slowly fading, and his bones no longer throbbed with every movement.
"Alright. Time to head back." He paused for a moment. "Don't forget to leave marks on the trees. From now on, make them Z-shaped so we don't get lost next time."
Aileen and Irene immediately pulled out their knives.
"We'll do it," the girls answered in unison.
The road back turned out far calmer than Grey had expected. Nobody spoke unnecessarily. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.
Sunny admiringly stroked his axe, which had tasted blood for the first time. Lily and Sheryl kept throwing strange looks at Grey. Aileen and Irene excitedly whispered about plans to decorate their personal rooms in the new house. Hope quietly followed behind everyone else, but she didn't fall behind the group.
By noon, the familiar city walls appeared ahead of them. Beyond them rose the spires of the торгового quarter and the familiar sign of "Venus's Embrace." The home that had become their first shelter.
Grey let out a slow breath.
"This is where the real headache begins."
A red-haired figure was already waiting by the gates like a guard standing watch.
Monica.
Her posture radiated impatience. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The heel of her sandal tapped rhythmically against the stone.
The moment the group came closer, her gaze immediately found its target.
The black-haired, blue-eyed boy, Grey.
"What... is this?" the woman's voice came out quiet, but Grey still felt goosebumps crawl down his back.
She stared unblinkingly at the boy's bandaged arm. The color drained from her face until it turned pale as marble, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She paid no attention to anyone else. Not Sunny with his bloodstained axe, nor Lily with her scraped knees. Only him.
Grey couldn't help but wonder: Why was she so attached to him?
He had noticed long ago that he meant more to Monica than he probably should. Maybe like a son. Maybe like a reminder of the past. Or maybe... just a stupid boy who constantly caused trouble but happened to be very cute.
"Tell me this is a joke," she hissed, and in the next moment, grabbed him by the ear.
"Ow!" Grey didn't resist.
He was an adult, not a child. Unlike the stubborn Junior, he consciously chose to play along with her overbearing care. Who knew what this woman had gone through? What was so wrong about letting her vent her feelings this way?
If it made her feel better, he didn't mind becoming her emotional outlet.
"Where were you?! And what in the gods' name happened to your arm?!" Monica demanded without loosening her grip.
"U-uh... it was a small misunderstanding... with a big cat," Grey muttered, trying not to show the pain on his face.
Instead of answering, Monica turned him to face her and carefully examined the bandages.
"Come with me," she said firmly, gripping his healthy arm.
"Where?" Grey asked in surprise.
"To the place where I can finally figure out what the hell bit you!" Monica snapped and dragged him deeper into the city.
She was completely serious. The kind of tone that accepted absolutely no objections. Protests, pleading, complaints, and appeals had no effect whatsoever. Monica was already pulling the boy through the dusty streets.
"The rest of you, back to your rooms!" she threw over her shoulder without turning around.
Grey let out a heavy sigh. Irritation and warmth battled inside his heart. No matter how much he denied it, Monica's care felt surprisingly refreshing in this grim world where everyone only looked out for themselves.
Several times, he tried to pull his arm free from the red-haired woman's grip or convince her that the injury wasn't that serious, but she simply ignored every attempt to escape. She dragged him through the narrow streets like a stubborn river steadily flowing toward the sea.
"Aunt Monica... you really don't have to worry! I'm fine. I already..."
"Quiet!" she snapped without even looking back. "If you say one more word, I'll make sure Madam never lets you leave 'Venus's Embrace' again."
Grey ran out of arguments.
The Northern District, the territory of the local nobility. The streets became wider and cleaner, while the houses grew taller and sturdier. Of course, only by the standards of this place. As someone from the modern world, Grey still found the surroundings rather miserable and inconvenient.
Still, compared to Thorn's Cloaca, the Merchant District, and the gloomy estate, this area was exceptionally well maintained. No wonder the people living here considered themselves the cream of society.
Here, the scent of incense mixed with the dampness of the streets. Men walked with their chins raised high, while richly dressed ladies constantly threw disapproving glances in their direction.
After passing a few blocks, they stopped in front of a neat two-story building with a sign bearing the image of a caduceus.
"Doctor Laurentius. Member of the Healers' Guild. Silver Rank."
Two guards stood by the entrance. Without wasting time on explanations, Monica walked straight past them and knocked confidently on the door. A minute later, it swung open.
A plump man who looked to be around fifty stood on the threshold.
He looked extremely neat, almost overly proper. Rosy face. Thick sideburns. He wore an immaculate forest-green robe over a white shirt. Even the gray spreading through his temples only added to his dignified appearance.
"Monica? Well, this is a surprise. What brings you here? Decided to come for another checkup?" he greeted her warmly, without showing even a hint of disdain toward the woman despite being fully aware of her profession.
"Good afternoon, Mister Laurentius. Today, your patient is this boy right here. I hope you'll take us in," Monica replied politely.
Laurentius nodded and gestured for them to enter.
The reception room turned out to be quite spacious and even tidy. The floor was covered with a bear-skin rug with yellowed fangs, while the shelves overflowed with bottles, bundles of herbs, and elegant bronze and copper instruments.
The air smelled of dried chamomile, but... not a trace of alcohol.
Grey gave a crooked smirk. So they had never even heard of disinfection here either. In this world, people were more likely to cauterize wounds with fire or pour wine over them than use proper antiseptics.
The healer looked more like an old-fashioned alchemist than a doctor in the usual sense of the word. Every method of treatment relied on special potions, miraculous mana-infused plants, or bizarre rituals and sacrifices.
Grey realized that the existence of mystical remedies that genuinely worked wasn't always an advantage.
Because of how narrow their views and methods were, the healers here never even considered other approaches that were simpler, cheaper, and more universal. Why bother straining your brain when the solution already existed, even if it was ridiculously expensive? It was exactly because of this mindset that the world felt terribly primitive and savage to Grey despite all its obvious advantages.
Even so, Mister Laurentius clearly had plenty of experience. He confidently removed the bandages and examined the wound without showing either disgust or panic.
"A serious case, but believe me, I've seen worse." He frowned. "You'll need a good-quality potion. A minor one should be enough. I'll put it on your tab."
Grey opened his mouth to object, then immediately closed it again.
After all, he couldn't exactly tell them he had already drunk a medium-grade potion that was far superior. And who would even believe him?
Noticing Grey's hesitation, Monica decisively raised her hand and fixed him with a look that tolerated no arguments. She trusted the opinion of a titled healer far more than the words of an underdeveloped little boy who constantly got himself into trouble.
"Very well, Mister Laurentius. I agree."
Grey suppressed a helpless sigh and complied. Professional help wouldn't hurt. The man really did seem experienced. There was a reason he carried a Silver Rank within the guild.
Grey decided that later, he would properly repay Monica for her care.
After a brief examination, the healer handed Grey a bottle filled with murky green liquid.
"That's all. Drink it, and in a couple of days you'll be able to return to your training." He smiled a little slyly. "Though... people like you are never really meant for rest."
Grey stayed silent and downed the potion in one gulp. The potion was weak, almost useless. Still, even it brought a brief sense of relief. Grey understood that not every noble would be willing to help a commoner like him, even for money, so he felt grateful.
Grey gave a nod of appreciation in accordance with the etiquette of the Magic Empire's nobility, but the healer paid no attention to the gesture and turned toward Monica.
"Boy, wait outside. Since Miss Monica is here, I should perform a full examination."
Realizing what kind of examination the healer meant, Grey was genuinely surprised.
Venereal diseases were far from unheard of in this world. On the contrary, they were extremely common, and healers could make a fortune treating such patients. Mister Laurentius served as the attending healer of "Venus's Embrace" and was responsible for examining the girls once every month. That was how he had met Monica in the first place.
As the person responsible for all the finances of "Venus's Embrace," Grey knew perfectly well that the girls' next visit to Laurentius was scheduled for next month, which was exactly why he was surprised.
"This must be his own initiative," Grey thought as he stepped outside like he had been told.
He had no desire to be present for that process.
He was an adult man trapped in a teenager's body. A very dangerous combination, to be honest.
"Hmm, actually, an unscheduled checkup wouldn't hurt Monica. Who knows what kind of diseases she might've picked up... This healer is a pretty attentive guy..." Grey's thoughts were interrupted when he heard hoarse exclamations and quiet moans.
He froze. He couldn't possibly mistake those sounds. The same sounds he constantly heard in "Venus's Embrace."
At that moment, it felt to Grey as if someone had struck the back of his head. The world around him dulled. The length of the street, the city's noise, the merchants' shouts — all of it vanished. Only that door remained… and the sounds behind it.
"No..."
He stepped closer. Hoping he had misheard. That it was just the creaking of wood. Or the wind. But the moan came again.
"So this is how you decided to repay me, Monica?"
Something inside him snapped at that moment.
His stomach twisted painfully in disgust, so strongly that nausea rose to his throat.
Grey couldn't understand how things had come to this.
He had long realized that Monica was attached to him, but the last thing he wanted was for her to sell her body for his sake. She meant well, but in that moment Grey would have preferred to be whipped again by Quintillian rather than hear her unending moans.
He stood frozen in place, unable to move. A storm of pain, shame, and helplessness raged inside him. He didn't know what to feel.
"I hate… this healer. This situation. Her… No. Not her. Myself. No. Just… all of it."
He didn't just feel guilty. He felt filthy, pathetic, and disgusting.
And then…
Angry.
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