Chapter 169

169: Awkward Cultist

A breeze blowing through the wide-open window made the lacy curtains flutter.

Looking beyond, one could see a soft but cool-looking bed and blanket that seemed inviting.

On top of the bed sat a girl who looked like she was wearing a black dress.

The dress was adorned with many frills and ribbons, making it look like a doll’s dress.

It was as if a mannequin-sized doll was sitting on the bed.

But then, to my surprise, she opened hermouth and spoke.

“Uncle, you really saw a nymph, right?”

She smiled brightly and cheerfully. Still, I’m not her uncle, though I guess I can understand why she thinks so, given that I’m hiding my identity with a strange mask and robe.

I was a little surprised.

So this is what a noble young lady is like.

Enya, whom I met on the battlefield before, seemed more like a general or leader than a noble young lady.

Seeing this perfect example of a noble young lady, raised in luxury, was quite moving.

It felt like my life had turned into a Disney story.

However, her hair and eye color were black.

To me, it’s not a particularly special or interesting color, but in this world, black evokes Pluto’s domain of hell, d*ath, and the dark ravines of demise.

Thus, it’s ominous.

It’s the color of the Samarians who run around the vast wilderness announcing ominous dooms.

Could this girl be a Samarian? Of course not likely.

“Uncle, have you really seen a nymph?”

As I was lost in thought, the baron’s daughter Brigitte suddenly stood up from the bed. She walked up to me confidently.

“Strange mask. You’re big too. You’re the strangest looking one out of all the quacks my father has brought.”

Quack?

Only then did I remember why I was here.

Whether she’s a Samarian or not doesn’t matter much to me. I just need to cure whatever illness this child has, get my reward in gold, and leave.

However, Brigitte, the baron’s daughter, kept circling me, examining.

“I’ve never seen this kind of mask around here. They’re talking about having a mask festival soon. Is that why you’re wearing it? Or is your face that ugly?”

First of all, it’s strange she calls me “uncle” upon first meeting. Then there’s the sudden jab about being ugly. She’s cheerful, but she’s quite rude.

Of course, as the daughter of a noble, she’s immune to getting a smack on the head for being rude, which might explain her behavior.

“There will be a grand mask festival this year! I really want to go. I didn’t go last year or the year before…”

Though it sounds funny when I say it, I would expect her to be quite scared standing alone with a large man in a room. Yet, she shows no fear, suggesting she’s either very brave or trusts the mansion’s security completely.

“Uncle, have you been to a mask festival? They set off fireworks at the end. You know fireworks, right? It’s like the magic fire wizards use. You can see it well from this window.”

This Miss Brigitte kept talking nonstop, like her listener was someone who hadn’t eaten in days.

Most of it wasn’t very interesting to me. But I remembered a story my father once told me.

He said that there’s often something meaningful in the stories patients tell, like elements of their life and karma, so it’s good to listen carefully. There might be hints to curing their illness.

Though the idea that things like dubious pressure points or acupuncture, or even just listening to stories, could cure someone sounded ridiculous before lately, my father’s stories have surprisingly started helping.

“Why haven’t you been able to go to the festival? Is it because of some illness you’re suffering?”

Could it be something more dangerous than just being underdeveloped?

Maybe she’s just being careful not to reveal this issue with her body.

But it felt slightly different.

Sighing lightly at my question, Brigitte said, “Even if I wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t have been able to go. Since I was born, I’ve never left this villa.”

“Is that so?”

“My father is just too overprotective. He seems to think I’ll melt like ice if I go outside. You know ice? It’s cold.”

Brigitte stopped circling me and headed towards the tall window. The wind blew her black hair around as she took in the view of the clouds, sun, and the world below.

“They say even wandering around outside wouldn’t make you see nymphs, right? Do they really have pointed ears?”

“Somewhat, yes. They’re pointed, but not as much as elves…”

“Elves? Uncle, you’ve seen elves too? What’s the difference between elves and nymphs?”

Listening to her endless questions, I started to understand why Baron Brigitte’s room was located so high up.

This girl wanted to see more and further. Of course, the highest room would suit her best.

“Tell me some stories about the outside world. Even if you fail to cure me, I’ll convince my father to pay you well.”

“Have you really never been outside the mansion since you were born?”

“Only once, when I was very young.”

In a world without the internet, being confined would get pretty boring.

No matter how big the house or how good the clothes or food, it would naturally feel suffocating after weeks, months, or years.

Looking through the small observatory masked by my own, I imagined the many healers the baron must have invited before me, coming here and sharing stories of the outside world with this girl.

“Why doesn’t your father allow you to go outside?”

“He’s overprotective, I guess. Though, I’m not entirely sure either.”

I frowned, looking at her wind-blown black hair. A fog of a flashback came to me, remembering what the carriage driver told me before I arrived here.

The baron’s wife was kidnapped by Samarians, wasn’t she?

Kidnapped wife.

Black-haired daughter.

This story feels less like Disney and more like a morning drama.

A wife who gave birth to a dark-haired daughter.

Of course, he’d want to hide her away.

So much so that he might as well lock her in this giant cage, drawing all the blinds.

“Really? They sell menta tofu pie outside?”

“Sounds disgusting, but it’s quite tasty once you try it.”

I answered the endless questions from this curious girl for a while. Still, she kept bombarding me with even more questions like someone who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Adventurers are said to eat anything, right? It seems true. You must end up eating a lot of inedible things while exploring. You have to eat beast monsters too, right?”

“Kinda like that.”

“Hmm, sounds fun! I want to try being an adventurer too, discover treasures, explore new ruins unseen by others, swing swords, and defeat goblins…”

“I’m not an adventurer, and it might not be as fun as you think.”

“Why not?”

Well, obviously making money off others isn’t easy.

The adventurer lifestyle sounds romantic, but in practice, it’s not very enjoyable and involves a lot of mucking around, which is pretty tough.

Still, I didn’t bother correcting her. I was too lazy, and it was time to get back to my original purpose for being here.

“So, Miss Brigitte, I’d like to start diagnosing your condition.”

The face that was just imagining happily scrunched up immediately.

“My illness is something no one can cure, so instead of that, can you tell me more stories about the outside world?”

The daughter of a noble, she had quite a commanding presence in making requests. Born to rule over others, it was the bloodline of the nobles.

However, we’ve already been chatting for over an hour. If it keeps going, I might never finish my work and go home.

“It’ll be quick. Could you extend your hand?”

“Why do you need my hand to diagnose?”

Brigitte pulled her wrist up towards her chest, showing a guarded attitude. This behavior made her feel quite like a noble young lady raised in luxury, somehow refreshing.

“To inspect you, are you going to draw my bl**d? I’m not doing that!”

bl**d? I wondered what she was talking about, and it seemed some of the earlier healers had indeed drawn bl**d for examination.

“It won’t hurt at all. No need for bl**d. I’ll just hold your wrist, that’s all.”

“…”

Her black eyes opened lazily. Her wariness reminded me a lot of a black kitten rummaging through trash cans. d*mn, it’s so annoying.

I extended my palm out from under the crimson robe to Brigitte.

“It’ll take just a moment.”

“Will I be able to wander around outside if I get cured?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds possible.”

At my vague answer, Brigitte sighed slightly. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with it but felt there was no choice.

“…”

Her extremely slender and fragile female wrist was placed in my palm.

I wonder how these ladies manage to live with such delicate wrists. It feels like it would snap with the slightest force.

Anyway, that’s not important right now.

Ding!

“Name: Brigitte von Paschone Level 4

Condition: Moros’s Deferment ▷Brand of Hell ▷Magic Starvation ▷Low Back Pain ▷Dry Eyes”

What the hell.

There were way more words than I expected. Despite being a noble lady who’s never had to do anything strenuous, why are there so many strange statuses?

No, could it be that she has many inherent illnesses due to lack of activity from being confined indoors?

“Is that all from just holding my wrist?”

She pulled her wrist away quickly.

“So, can you figure out what illness I have just from holding my wrist?”

That’s the same question I always get when diagnosing through the wrist. Honestly, if I were on the receiving end, I’d probably ask the same thing.

Even though many words appeared, right now the most useful one might be this.

“Do you have lower back pain? Specifically in the erector spinae area?”

“Yeah, but how did you know? Did you hear it from other healers? Or my father? Or maybe my sister Sydney?”

“I didn’t hear it from anyone. Is your eyes also somewhat dry? It might feel scratchy.”

“…But I never told anyone about that!”

Brigitte, who was skeptical just moments ago, now had her sharp black eyes filled with even more suspicion.

“How did you know? Is it magic?”

“Yeah, you could say it’s similar to magic. Anyway, I’ll start by relieving your low back pain. Please lay face down on that bed.”

“But I don’t want to feel pain…”

“You won’t feel any pain. In fact, it might feel good.”

My massage skills were acknowledged even by the rather picky witch Elpride.

With the divine favor enhancing my hand skills, I’ve truly reached the level of a master masseuse now.

Consider yourself lucky to receive a massage from the Duke of Hell, Hassan. This is my reward.

While entertaining such ridiculous thoughts, I urged the noble young lady to hurry up.

“Hurry up and lie down.”

“If you do anything strange, I’ll scream. Then you’ll be in big trouble. Don’t have any funny ideas.”

“Alright.”

Brigitte ended her sentence and lay down on the bed in front of me. Her voluminous dress was slightly frustrating.

I didn’t have the courage to tell a noble young lady to undress for the sake of a massage. I might lose my head if I did.

But with the massage points on her back known even through clothing, I decided to try Chuna therapy instead of acupressure.

So, I gripped both ankles of the noble young lady Brigitte.

“Wh-Why are you touching my legs!?”

“I’m measuring how much and in which direction your lower back and pelvis are tilted.”

Living indoors, the amount of time she would spend sitting in a bed or chair will naturally be high. Thus, her body would unconsciously lean to one side.

I held both her legs straight to check the position of her feet and determine how much her body has tilted and in which direction.

“Now, I’ll need to touch your feet. It’s not for any strange reason, so don’t worry, it’s all part of the treatment.”

“…”

The Brigitte, who was chattering a moment ago, remained completely silent as the treatment started.

It wasn’t as if she was scared or shrinking back. Her expression seemed more like someone who had accepted everything.

She must have experienced various treatments from numerous healers, so nothing felt new to her now.

Of course, it suited me that she wasn’t being noisy or resisting.

“Your left leg is a bit shorter. I’ll adjust that first.”

Thus, I placed my hands on the left hip of the young mistress Brigitte who was lying flat. To be exact, I placed my right and left hands under the lower part of her left buttocks.

Through the frills of her dress, I could feel her rather soft and supple buttocks, making my bl**d pressure rise momentarily.

But I reminded myself again that this is purely a therapeutic action, not something obscene or lewd.

“Hmm…”

With a small sigh escaping, it was time to apply the correct pressure in the right direction. Considering my enhanced current strength, slightly holding back would be wise.

I inhaled, then exerted force through my left and right palms, applying pressure on the pelvis beneath them.

Click.

“Kyaaahhhh!!!!!”

Startled, the young mistress ended up letting out a loud scream.

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