The Healing Brave Man witnessed a marriage proposal?

Wylding? Why am I in Wylding?

Syldra stared in utter bewilderment.

The Kingdom of Wylding wasn’t an unfamiliar name.

Both the Duke of Wylding and the Duke of Lentiya were distant blood relatives of the imperial family, though in terms of status, the Duchy of Lentiya held far greater influence.

Lentiya was a favored child of the Aetelarma Empire; Wylding, by comparison, was merely “a royal relative”—nothing more than a technicality.

The relationship between the two houses amounted to little more than exchanging formal invitations whenever either hosted grand banquets.

Ludwig couldn’t recall much about Wylding. His past had never intersected with it.

However, he did remember one thing: during Samael’s war, after advancing steadily northward, Samael had unexpectedly diverted his army to specifically conquer Wylding—even though it wasn’t directly on his path.

At the time, Ludwig hadn’t yet been chosen as a Hero. He’d only heard the news while traveling through the Central Theocracy.

—Now that he thought about it, that was strange.

Samael’s initial campaign had been a direct march north. Only after capturing the Dalabi Empire did he use it as a hub to spread outward, conquering neighboring nations in a ripple effect.

So why had he gone out of his way to attack Wylding? Was there something special about this place?

Could there be clues here related to Samael?

“Miss Syldra?”

“Ah… Rosetta, I must’ve dozed off. I completely forgot we came to Wylding.”

Syldra forced a sheepish smile.

“You must be exhausted, Miss. Once we’re settled, I’ll give you a nice massage!” Rosetta said cheerfully.

Syldra watched as the maid skipped to the back of the carriage and pulled out two large trunks.

As soon as the golden crest of the Lentiya Duchy appeared on the luggage, staff in elegant uniforms quickly approached and took the bags from them.

Syldra observed the mature woman leading them forward—her welcoming smile warm, her uniform immaculate and perfectly tailored, even her gloves spotless.

“The Lion’s Invitation,” Wylding’s famed guesthouse reserved exclusively for dignitaries.

Walking through it now, Syldra had to admit—it lived up to its reputation.

Grand pillars, intricate paintings, rare potted plants, and a delicate fragrance lingering in the air.

Even the staff exuded refinement.

It rivaled—if not surpassed—the finest lodgings in Lentiya.

—Syldra, who hadn’t experienced luxury of this caliber in years, couldn’t help but feel a nostalgic warmth.

They were finally led to a VIP suite on the fourth floor.

After unpacking, Syldra casually began extracting information from Rosetta.

First: today was Stardate 245, October 7th. Syldra (14 years old) and Rosetta had come to Wylding as envoys from the Duchy of Lentiya, attending the 80th Anniversary National Banquet hosted by the Duke of Wylding.

According to this timeline, during “last time,” when Wylding held this celebration, Ludwig had already been two years into his secluded training—so he knew nothing of the event and had never served as an envoy to Wylding.

But now, as Syldra, she had not entered the Central Theocracy at age thirteen.

Thus, her life had diverged from Ludwig’s.

That was point two.

Under the guise of reminiscing, Syldra steered the conversation toward “childhood memories” and “the past.”

From Rosetta’s replies, Syldra learned that the Duke of Lentiya had no other children besides herself—just as before. But whereas last time she had been the sole son, now she was the sole daughter.

“There is no Ludwig in this world—only Syldra.”

Acknowledging this, Syldra felt a pang of melancholy—but also relief.

Melancholy, because the years she had lived as a priest, as a Hero, now seemed erased, buried in an unknown history.

Relief, because despite minor differences—mainly gender-related—her identity and memories still belonged to herself.

Ludwig was Syldra.

Syldra was Ludwig.

Then, Syldra pieced together her life so far.

Back then, at age eight, Ludwig had undergone a talent assessment and was confirmed to possess “healing” ability. From then on, he focused entirely on cultivating that power, eventually entering the Central Theocracy for secluded training.

Similarly, at age eight, Syldra had also been confirmed to possess healing talent. But as a girl, she hadn’t been pressured to live as the heir apparent or future Duke. Instead, she’d grown up like any noble girl—receiving education, learning etiquette, living carefree until now, at fourteen.

She occasionally accompanied her father to meet dignitaries, trained subtly as “the future face of the Lentiya house.”

If things continued smoothly, by sixteen she would be betrothed to a noble heir of matching status. Then, within Neuin’s highest echelons, she would serve as “the Lentiya daughter married into another house,” supporting her younger brother—the son born later to secure the ducal succession—as the new generation of Lentiya exerted influence in the Aetelarma Empire.

That was precisely why she was here now, representing the Lentiya family at the Duke of Wylding’s banquet.

…… After chatting a while, their words dwindled, and both mistress and maid silently resumed tidying the room. They ate dinner provided by the guesthouse and continued organizing until late evening.

Syldra wrung out a towel and hung it on the rack.

She gazed at the foggy mirror before her, its surface blurred by steam, reflecting the hazy image of a red-haired girl—familiar, yet alien.

…… Marriage? Something she’d never given a thought to.

Syldra knew well that in this world, no matter one’s status, fate was rarely self-determined.

Even if, upon returning to Lentiya, her father announced she’d already been promised to a future husband, she wouldn’t have the power—or right—to resist.

Doing what was required for the sake of Lentiya—that was the creed instilled in every heir from childhood.

But compared to “family glory,” what Syldra now cared about most was “family survival”—just as Ludwig, in his previous life, had cared only for “ending Samael’s war.”

There had been no room for anything else.

Daughterhood, marriage, political alliances—none of it mattered to him/her.

“Miss Syldra…” Suddenly, a soft voice came from behind.

“Hmm? What is it, Rosetta?” Syldra turned.

She saw Rosetta holding the corner of a soft, blue-and-white fabric, blushing deeply, her eyes averted.

“I… I think I accidentally packed your undergarment into my luggage…”

Rosetta gently unfolded the cloth.

Syldra froze, staring at the item in Rosetta’s hands.

It was a delicate undergarment—thin fabric, narrow straps, adorned with two small bows, white in the center, fading to light blue at the sides.

A shameful object she’d never seen in her 29 years (29-year-old Ludwig, 1-day-old Syldra)!

Syldra’s face instantly burned crimson.

The next moment, the suite echoed with flustered cries from both girls.

“Wha—what is th—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean to mix them up!”

“—R-Rosetta! I—I need to go for a walk! I’ll come back later!”

Then came the sharp click of a door hastily opened by a mortified young lady.

After that, the hurried footsteps of a pure-hearted Lentiya heiress raced down the entire corridor.

And so, 14-year-old Syldra (in truth, a 29-year-old archmage-in-waiting with 15 years of ascetic spiritual training, untouched by worldly desires) fled the scene, face burning.

What the—?! That thing is mine?!

Do I normally wear that kind of underwear?! Good heavens, how indecent!

Leaning against the wall beside a corridor window, the 14-year-old Syldra (in body)—a chaste priest who had spent the past 15 years in holy seclusion, utterly unacquainted with matters of the flesh—felt her cheeks scorch.

The guesthouse’s VIP rooms were located deep on the fourth floor, with private dining and bathing areas nearby and no adjacent guest rooms—so Syldra had run this far without encountering anyone.

D-Did I… am I… wearing something like that right now?!

The mere thought sent a wave of heat rushing through her body.

W-What? W-What’s happening?!

Her gaze dropped to her own form.

Beneath the silvery moonlight, a faint curve rose gently at her chest, rising and falling with her ragged breath.

It was a body foreign to her—youthful, blossoming, undeniably graceful and lovely by any worldly standard.

Syldra trembled.

She had never truly looked at such a sight before.

Even though she’d accepted her transformation during the day, her mind had been consumed by thoughts of Lentiya and Wylding—never pausing to consider what it truly meant, for someone who had spent 15 years in sacred purity, to actually become a woman.

—How deeply it violated her past. How unbearably conflicting it made her feel.

Almost unconsciously, she raised her trembling right hand.

Her slender fingers looked especially pristine under the moonlight.

She lifted her eyes to the silent, luminous full moon—about to move her fingers—

When, beyond the corridor window, she caught sight of two shadowy figures standing beneath the trees below.

Instantly curious, she leaned closer.

A man and a woman.

The man knelt on one knee, facing away from her, seemingly speaking earnestly. The woman stood with a complex expression, her gaze lowered toward the south.

Syldra’s delicate brows lifted.

Are they… getting engaged?

Why here? Why now?

She leaned farther out of the fourth-floor window for a better view.

As they shifted positions mid-conversation, Syldra caught the man’s profile.

……Huh? That profile… somehow familiar?

Syldra narrowed her eyes.

—Wait. Those red pupils. That profile. No way. That can’t be real.

The familiar face. The crimson eyes.

Realizing where she’d seen it before, Syldra’s eye twitched violently.

That’s SAMAEL!!!!!!

Syldra screamed soundlessly in her mind.