The Impertinent Healer

“Hiss…”

A searing pain, burrowing into her thigh, dragged Ghervil’s consciousness back.

Her body felt heavy, and her vision was filled with a white pillow and bedding, pressed close to her face, emitting a faint fragrance.

The last thing she remembered was falling into a hazy sleep after the Dean had patted her head.

So, was she currently lying face down on a bed?

Supporting herself with her hands, she pushed up her body and turned her head to look at the source of the pain on her thigh.

An immediate flush of shame spread across her face, turning it as red as an apple.

Her skirt had been lifted high, revealing her entire thighs and half of her buttocks, while the torn nylon stockings had been cut open from both sides into a neat rectangle.

The original abrasion was now completely swathed in gauze that emitted a peculiar odor, which she suspected was the cause of the stinging sensation.

“Lie still and don’t move. There are two other swollen areas that need medication,” a young female voice, clearly not the Dean’s, drifted from nearby.

Instinctively, Ghervil yanked down her skirt, sat up, and retreated to the edge of the bed, casting a wary glance in the direction of the voice.

A young woman, likely in her early twenties, stood before her, possessing striking pale blonde hair that seemed out of place for a local. Her complexion was fair, and her features were as exquisitely sculpted as if carved from marble, particularly her focused blue eyes framed by long lashes, which were remarkably beautiful.

Near the corner of her eye, a faint red lotus mark, subtly enhancing her mature allure, was almost imperceptible unless one looked closely.

Her tall figure was clad in a short formal dress paired with black stockings; indeed, if one disregarded her face and focused solely on her physique and the development of certain areas, they would likely mistake her for someone considerably older.

A black overcoat, unfolded, hung casually over the back of a chair behind her, suggesting a preference for such mature attire.

Beautiful as she was, Ghervil watched the woman meticulously mix potions and tear gauze from a white medical kit. The woman’s right hand, with fingers splayed, occasionally made small, back-and-forth gestures, as if squeezing a water-filled balloon or some other pliable object.

Remembering her previous posture, a chill crept beneath Ghervil’s skirt, and her face flushed so intensely it felt as though smoke might billow from it. She curled her legs, hugged her knees tightly, and pressed down on her skirt, ensuring not an inch of her thigh was exposed, all while glaring fiercely at the woman.

It became clear to her that this woman possessed some medical knowledge, perhaps even being a doctor, but such expertise hardly justified her impolite actions.

She had merely suffered a minor abrasion and some swelling; it wasn’t a severe injury necessitating urgent treatment, especially not in *that* particular area…

“Don’t look at me like that. Without my intervention, tonight you would have had rodents and arthropods warming your bed,” the woman retorted.

The woman, carrying an iron tray laden with gauze, antiseptic, and cotton swabs, moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. She found the young girl’s demeanor somewhat amusing; her wary, angry gaze held no real menace.

Her methods of expressing anger were remarkably limited; her curled-up posture directly contradicted the fury on her face. A closer look revealed this anger was largely feigned, a performance she forced herself to enact.

Had it not been for the lateness of the hour, she would have gladly indulged the act a little longer.

“Doesn’t your backside hurt? If I’m not mistaken, it seemed rather swollen,” she probed.

Ghervil’s lips twitched.

‘Why bring up precisely what I least want to discuss?’

‘What an utterly brazen person, to be so offensive upon a first meeting.’

Maintaining a stern expression was exhausting; shifting slightly to a look of disdain, Ghervil spoke with undisguised displeasure,

“Rather than trusting a rude intruder who trespasses into another’s home and commits unlawful acts, I’d sooner put my faith in the simple-mindedness of rats and spiders.”

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding between us,” the woman said calmly.

The woman then deliberately moved away from the bedside, pulling up a chair and sitting about a meter away, intending to offer the young girl some space and a sense of security. As she settled, a slight daze washed over her.

From her seated, slightly angled eye-level perspective, she caught sight of the outline hidden behind the tightly drawn-up calves, encased within the black skirt.

The young girl’s hands clutched her entire skirt, and as the bed was rather firm, it hadn’t sunken much. The fabric stretched taut, revealing the undeniable curves of her figure.

‘How to put it… for a girl of this age, such a figure was exceptionally well-developed.’

‘Yet, disregarding her age and considering her identity, the sight of a nun presenting herself in such a way… the sense of the forbidden amplified severalfold.’

‘It was a pity not to have looked more closely when examining the wounds. What an effect she must have in a nun’s habit…’

With her keen observational skills and equally adept acting, the young girl, oblivious to the ‘lewd gaze,’ slightly lowered her guard, awaiting an explanation for the misunderstanding.

“Aside from carrying you out of the cellar while you were unconscious and touching your thigh while treating your wounds, I touched nothing else. As for my hand movements just now… I was merely exercising my fingers, a small habit of mine as a doctor,” the woman clarified.

She had observed all of the young girl’s reactions since waking, and by synthesizing them, she could deduce the probable cause.

“There’s one thing you haven’t explained,” Ghervil said, shaking her head, still unconvinced. “How did you come to find the cellar in the backyard of 101?”

The backyard was separated from the street by an entire house, making it both invisible and virtually inaudible. Even a thief entering the house would be unlikely to venture into the backyard, as there was truly nothing noteworthy there save for a small garden and a nun’s habit hanging to dry.

“I happened to be passing by during my usual post-dinner stroll in the forest, and coincidentally heard a commotion from the cellar. My curiosity piqued, I went to investigate and discovered a nun who had fallen down the stairs and was unconscious. Out of a doctor’s fundamental sense of responsibility, I brought her to my new home for treatment…”

The woman found herself unable to continue her fabrication. From the moment she uttered her first sentence, the young girl’s gaze had been fixed intently upon her. While the woman believed her excuse was sound, logically coherent, and plausible, this seemingly harmless and even charming nun appeared to be far from easily deceived.

“Are you joking? Or do you take me for your kind, a fool? If so, you are gravely mistaken!” Ghervil challenged.

Having seen through such a clumsy lie, Ghervil felt an inexplicable surge of confidence, allowing herself to relax.

“Normal people don’t wander into thorny, overgrown woods for a casual stroll. Your proficiency makes me suspect you’re a veterinarian, for animals don’t understand human speech, and a lie of this caliber wouldn’t even fool a street urchin.”

She grew more animated with each word,

“Next time you’re so full you feel like rambling about, you might consider becoming a coachman. Persistent effort might even grant you a healthy body less prone to feeling stuffed.”

‘This individual, who couldn’t even conjure a pre-planned excuse, had at least not formulated an intricate scheme. Perhaps it truly was a whim, an accidental discovery, and she had simply brought Ghervil out for treatment.’

‘Logically, she ought to be grateful, yet the unspeakable fact remained: the woman had seen what she shouldn’t have. The woman claimed she hadn’t touched other areas, but who could truly know? The mere thought filled Ghervil with embarrassment and annoyance, twisting her words of thanks into something entirely different.’

“You win… you sharp-tongued little nun. I’ll tell you the truth now,” the woman conceded.

This time, it was the woman who felt exasperated. They were both women, and she had already identified herself as a doctor. Was such a strong reaction merely the unique modesty of a Solis Abbey (TL Note: A religious institution, similar to a convent, for nuns.) nun, or had her earlier thoughts somehow been exposed?

“I’m not interested,” Ghervil declared dismissively, swinging her legs to the side of the bed, slipping her feet into her small leather boots, and dismounting to turn and bend over, tidying the bedding.

“If you wish to explain, do it next time. 101 Lily Street—you already know my address. Just knock; if there’s no answer, you may not enter without permission. And finally… you’ll have to pray I still remember this incident then, and that my interest has been piqued.”

Outside, the sky was dimming. It was getting late, and the Keith family’s dinner time was fast approaching. There was no time to wait for this woman’s explanation; a lavish dinner was far more important than any trivial reason, and not returning on time would surely worry Mrs. Keith.

She had been carried here by the woman, which suggested her home couldn’t be too far; she could still make it back in time.

Arranging the pillows and bedding, and smoothing out the sheets, Ghervil felt a sense of satisfaction. She turned to see the woman still seated on the chair, staring blankly, showing no signs of preparing to see her off.

She pursed her lips, offered a slight bow, and walked towards the bedroom door.

‘If she wouldn’t see her off, so be it. It wasn’t as if Ghervil lacked legs and couldn’t walk herself.’

“You…”

Only when she had opened the door did the woman’s hesitant voice prompt Ghervil to turn back. The woman was sitting sideways, one hand resting on the chair’s backrest, her brow furrowed.

“I suggest you stay a little longer,” she advised.

“Why?”

“If you go back now…” The woman gestured towards Ghervil’s stomach. “You might have to starve until tomorrow morning.”