Chapter 49 

Lilia paused, brow furrowing.
“Brother… are you really in pain?”

The man on the clinic cot flinched, clearly not expecting the question.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re reacting the same to every spot I touch—even places that shouldn’t be sore. It’s suspicious.”

Her tone was mild, not accusatory, but clinical—dissecting facts with a calm precision. She pressed her fingertips lightly into the man’s shoulder again, watching his exaggerated flinch with growing skepticism.

“Well, it hurts, alright?! That’s why I came!” he snapped, clearly agitated.

“But you haven’t had any trauma. No bruises. No inflammation. No strain in the muscles. You didn’t mention any injuries.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, her long blonde hair slipping down her shoulder like a golden ribbon.

“Could it be… you passed out drunk and slept wrong?”

The man’s face turned crimson. “Now see here! That’s a terrible thing to say to a patient!”

His voice rose in indignation, trying to drown her quiet logic. But Lilia remained as serene as ever—her voice soft, sweet, and full of childlike sincerity.

“Brother, this clinic is for the truly wounded. If you’re not hurt, then the divine power we use here gets wasted— power that could save someone’s life. So… are you sure you’re really in pain?”

She leaned forward just a little, her expression soft yet unyielding. Her hands, clasped at her waist, were steady.

“I… I…”

“Have you been drinking?”

“That’s…”

The man faltered. His bravado thinned like fog in sunlight.

Behind them, a small crowd of weary bodies waited in line—soldiers with bandaged limbs, elderly folk with fevers, a mother holding a child whose face was pale and damp with sweat. The line wasn’t loud, but the silence carried weight. All of them waiting. Watching.

Curtis had seen enough.

“There’s a line behind you,” he said coldly. “Answer the question. Yes or no. It’s not hard.”

The man’s head jerked toward the source of the voice.

“And who the hell are you to talk to me like that?!”

Finally finding a convenient target for his embarrassment, the man rounded on Curtis, his voice trembling between anger and shame.

Curtis didn’t reply.

He didn’t need to.

He simply raised one hand.

The crowd stilled.

With a sharp shhck, a needle-thin spear of water burst from his fingertip. The jet shimmered into a long, glass-clear spike, slicing the air with a whistle. It stopped precisely a finger’s width from the man’s eye.

“W-WHAT?!”

The patient flinched, eyes squeezed shut as the water-forged lance hovered like frozen lightning in midair. Just one more knuckle’s length, and it would’ve pierced deep into his skull.

Curtis’s voice came low and flat.

“Answer.”

“I-I’m sorry!” the man squealed, trembling. “I drank! I drank too much and wanted an easy cure—I’m sorry, I really am!”

He spilled the truth like wine from a shattered cup. Forget holy guilt—fear of the mage had done what sermons could not.

The water needle dissolved in an instant, fading to mist as Curtis lowered his hand. The droplets danced back to him in a soft swirl, reabsorbed into the unseen wellspring of his magic.

The tension snapped like a rope pulled too tight.

“Alright then,” Lilia chimed in, not missing a beat. “You can sit up now.”

Still pale, the man obeyed with trembling limbs. Lilia smiled sweetly, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

“If you’d kept claiming to be in pain, I was going to cut you open to check inside. But I’m glad we avoided that!”

Her words were delivered with the same gentle tone a mother might use when reminding a child to eat their vegetables.

The man’s complexion turned ashen. He nodded rapidly, eyes darting from Lilia to Curtis and back again, as if unsure which of them scared him more.

“I-I’ll be careful from now on!”

“Excellent. You may go.”

“Th-thank you!”

And just like that, he bolted from the tent with the speed of a rabbit dodging arrows.

Several in line chuckled under their breath. Others looked away, unwilling to draw attention.

Lilia clapped her hands together, still smiling.

“He looked pretty healthy to me.”

Curtis exhaled, folding his arms. “Do you… always treat patients like that?”

“Only when I’m not sure! It’s rare that my palpation fails, so I just had to check. Thanks to you, that one finished quickly! Oh—wait!”

She clapped again, this time in realization.

“That spell just now… that was your magic, right?”

Her eyes gleamed brighter than ever—pure, innocent awe glowing like starlight.