She Who Became Immortal

Mizetta had grown accustomed to waking up and gazing at unfamiliar ceilings.

Since being discovered by the Count Muller family and her engagement to Eckhart being settled, Mizetta had been sent to Leopold Illyrius, traveling throughout the Kingdom of Louisse, healing nobility to build her reputation. She had seen ceilings of pure white, and there had been times she had looked up at the underside of a carriage roof as she slept. She had also encountered ceilings adorned with inexplicable decorative lights and, inexplicably, paintings.

This time, it was a wooden-paneled ceiling.

The ceiling of the farmhouse where Mizetta had grown up was similar, though it seemed new, suggesting the building was relatively recent. She pondered this with half-conscious thoughts.

Glancing sideways, Mizetta saw an unbelievably beautiful girl sitting right next to the bed where Mizetta lay.

Her long, golden hair reached down to her waist. Her face was perfectly balanced, like a doll, and her slender form seemed so delicate it might break if touched roughly. It was as if time had stopped, trapping her in the most beautiful moment of her life, an otherworldly sensation. A sensation akin to being naked under the warm grace of the sun.

"...?"

Mizetta didn’t know this girl’s face.

What Mizetta knew was her back.

The back of the girl descending the hills of Escard towards the forest where demons lurked.

In the moonlight, her long, golden hair sparkled and danced joyfully.

"Euphemia Grimwood..."

Mizetta murmured her name softly.

Her mind was filled with question marks. Countless “why’s” floated in her thoughts, but she lacked a foundation to even begin understanding them. She couldn’t clearly discern what had happened and why.

Yet, Mizetta was certain that this girl was Euphemia Grimwood.

"Hmm? You know me? Have we met somewhere... No, I don't remember meeting you. Perhaps you’ve seen me from a distance?"

Despite her fragile and beautiful appearance, Euphemia spoke in a blunt tone. Her gesture of tilting her head in confusion was endearing, and Mizetta felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Um... On the night the Gillette siblings died in the Escard demon battle, I saw your back as you descended the hill..."

Unable to bring herself to lie or dodge the truth, Mizetta sat up in bed and faced Euphemia directly.

"Ah, so you were at the battlefield too. As you guessed, I am indeed Euphemia Grimwood. And you are the 'Healing Saint,' ... 'Saint of Healing' aren’t you?"

"Saint of Healing is what nobles called me. I’m Mizetta."

"Engaged to Eckhart Muller, correct?"

"…Yes. The reason Lady Euphemia’s engagement was broken off was… because of me."

That was a point Mizetta could not afford to obscure.

It was because of her that this delicate girl might face the flames of execution.

She deserved all the scorn in the world. Being killed would be no surprise. No, perhaps it was even something she might want.

Please—please, do not forgive me.

Though Mizetta could do nothing about her fate, it was a fact that her destiny had trampled over Euphemia Grimwood.

And yet,

"Hmm? Oh, it's not your fault. More importantly, I want to understand the situation. Please, tell me your story."

To Euphemia, the heavy burden in Mizetta’s heart seemed a trivial matter. However, the lack of resentment from Euphemia did not ease Mizetta’s feelings.

The sense of loss was profound, as if she wasn’t even worthy of the tiniest shred of resentment.

It was almost laughable how deeply she felt this, and she had to restrain herself from doing so, not wanting to be seen as insane.

"The situation…?" Mizetta asked.

"Yes. You were discovered by the Muller family and engaged to Eckhart. What happened after that? Since I killed Count Muller, Eckhart’s brother probably became the head of the family, but due to the turmoil, the marriage was likely postponed. At least a year should be observed for mourning the head of the family."

That was accurate.

Euphemia continued, her tone unheated and detached.

"Normally, you’d be cherished like a gem kept in a box within the Muller family. Yet, somehow, you’re called 'The Saint of Healing' and are using healing magic all over the place? Please explain how that came about."

"Yes. To get straight to the point, I was lent out, used by Marquis Leopold Illyrius. Following Lord Illyrius’s wishes, I performed healing magic for various nobles. It seems I was sent to showcase 'The Saint of Healing' during the Escard demon battle."

This was a story Victor Illyrius, Leopold’s nephew, had inadvertently revealed later. But it was probably correct.

Mizetta had indeed demonstrated her prowess.

She had healed severe injuries that no one else could, even restoring Jack Frigate’s lost arm.

"Leopold, huh..."

Euphemia unexpectedly smiled slyly.

Mizetta didn’t understand the meaning of this, so she decided to recount the events in chronological order as clearly as she could.

Surprisingly, Euphemia was an excellent listener, punctuating Mizetta’s story with well-timed nods and raising questions about the details. It was strange how just having Euphemia listen made Mizetta feel a sense of relief.

After Mizetta had finished recounting everything, she began to focus on other matters. Where was she, why was she asleep, and why was Euphemia Grimwood watching her while she slept?

"So, you weren’t exactly clear on the situation yourself."

Euphemia raised an eyebrow and slightly curved her lips into a smile.

Mizetta felt an intense flush of embarrassment and realized her face was turning red.

Of course, the reason she hadn’t tried to understand her situation was clear. It was because Euphemia Grimwood was right there in front of her.

"You are in a fortress belonging to the beastmen, as you call them. My companions are the ones who abducted you, and your guard is still alive. The strong blonde swordsman, Jack Frigate."

"Um..."

Mizetta had been waiting inside a small cabin prepared at the camp. There had been some noise, followed by Jack suddenly bursting out. Almost immediately, she thought she heard an explosion—after that, her memory became hazy.

Despite this, it seemed that whoever had managed to bypass Jack Frigate and abduct Mizetta must have been incredibly skilled.

Although Mizetta was not well-versed in combat, she knew Jack had defeated a demon general during the Escard demon war. He had lost an arm in the process, but afterward, he had sworn never to let his guard down again.

This time, Jack was probably not negligent.

Even when inside the cabin, he had always stationed himself near the entrance and showed no signs of letting his guard down.

So, it meant that Euphemia's companions had somehow dealt with Jack.

However—

“Um… why was I abducted?”

Mizetta asked.

Euphemia looked at her as if she were a complete fool, her mouth slightly agape.

 

---

In the end, Euphemia did not explain why Mizetta had been abducted. Upon reflection, there was no advantage in teaching Mizetta anything.

There was no obligation to be kind, and teaching her would bring no benefit. After all, Mizetta was an enemy to Euphemia.

Simply put, an enemy.

There was no hatred, no resentment, and no obsession. Mizetta was just another person who existed on the side causing harm.

Realizing this, Mizetta felt uncomfortable asking further questions and became somewhat dejected.

“Don’t worry about food or sleep. You’re an important hostage, so we’ll take good care of you. If you have any requests, let me know, and I’ll do my best to accommodate them.”

“A hostage…?”

“You may not realize it, but losing a major piece like the ‘Healing Saint’ uhh... 'Saint of Healing' in this senseless war is unacceptable. Leopold has gone to great lengths to establish your name and show your achievements. Various nobles across the Kingdom of Louisse probably recognize you. There must be many who desperately need your healing.”

That much was probably true.

Because of Marquis Leopold’s selective approach to his ‘guests,’ some nobles must have been turned away despite needing treatment. It was essentially using Mizetta as a pawn in political struggles, but considering Mizetta’s life would inevitably be used and swept along, she felt no particular emotional reaction about it. It was an old story.

“However, to the ‘Prodigal Prince,’ you’re not a crucial piece. It’s likely that your position in the political struggle differs from Leopold’s.”

Indeed, Victor, Leopold’s nephew, showed no signs of respect towards Prince Blitz, the Second Prince. On the contrary, he appeared quite annoyed and even expressed a desire to return.

So why had Mizetta been abducted as a hostage? Mizetta’s confusion was evident as she tilted her head in puzzlement.

After all, it was Prince Blitz who led the current war. Blitz didn’t seem to care about protecting Mizetta. In fact, it might even be beneficial for him if she were to die, considering the political struggles that lay ahead. So, wasn’t it pointless for Mizetta to be a hostage?

Euphemia, smiling with amusement, winked at Mizetta, as if to say, “I’m not going to tell you.” Her utterly charming gesture made the countless question marks floating in Mizetta’s mind burst and vanish.

With most of her confusion gone, Mizetta, without much thought, voiced the only remaining concern she had.

“Um, about my request.”

“Oh? A request. I see. Do you want a beautiful maid to attend to you?”

“No, I don’t need that.”

“Then perhaps a sumptuous feast? A luxurious meal?”

“No, I don’t need that either.”

“Hmmm… Well, there’s a bed right there. Besides desires for sex, food, and sleep, is there anything else you need? Just so you know, I don’t have any money.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Hmm?”

Euphemia Grimwood tilted her head in confusion. Mizetta took two breaths before stating her request.

“If there are any injured people, I’d like to treat them. The thought of injured people unsettles me. If there are any injured, could you bring them to me?”

That was the only value Mizetta believed she had.

She had always demonstrated this. Without it, she would have been swallowed by the turbulent current of her fate, drowned, and suffocated.

Here, she would show it again.

That was her resolve.