She Who Became Immortal

Noble residences typically range from splendid mansions to the occasional ownership of castles.

However, residing in a castle wasn't exclusively reserved for lords. Among the nobles Mizetta had healed, some lived in castles but were not lords themselves. After all, castles were essentially tools of warfare.

There hadn't been any large-scale wars in the Louisse Kingdom for decades.

Small-scale skirmishes—like the ongoing battles against the demon races in Escard, or occasional appearances of bandit groups in various territories, which the territorial knights dealt with—were all there was. If the bandit groups or brigands grew in scale, multiple territories would cooperate, and if they were close to the capital, the Kingdom Knights might intervene… or so she had learned from her studies.

Nevertheless, in that sense, it was discernible why the Tiant lord's residence wasn't a castle. There had never been a need to fiercely defend this place. There was a need to protect it, sure, but there were no enemies attacking. It was that kind of place.

While pondering such matters, Victor returned, signaling it was time to enter the mansion. Only Jack, the most powerful escort, accompanied him, while the rest were directed to the guest rooms after handing over the carriage and horses.

"There's a bad feeling about this. Stay alert," Victor murmured softly. For a brief moment, his hawk-like gaze resembled that of his uncle, Illyrius.

Whether Mizetta felt uneasy or not, she had no choice but to quietly brace herself as usual. So—everything was as usual.

Always, to Mizetta, the nobles she healed were more like "threats" than "patients." If they had even the slightest ill intent, they would accuse Mizetta, who had successfully healed them, of wrongdoing and attempt to harm her.

Until now, the influence of Leopold Illyrius had protected her from these malicious clients, but it was uncertain if that would continue in the future.

From the beginning, Mizetta's life had been at risk.

Ever since her engagement to Eckhart was decided, her life had been as fleeting as a gust of wind, and even now, she was being swept away by the winds. That fact hadn't changed at all.

So, probably, even if someone had watched her closely, Mizetta's expression wouldn't have changed. Victor didn't react to it, but Jack seemed slightly surprised.

Anyway, they proceeded to the mansion and ascended to the second floor.

Perhaps because Victor knew the location of the audience or perhaps because they weren't particularly welcome, there was no guide from the Tiant side.

Having visited noble residences many times before, Mizetta noticed that the Tiant lord's mansion was quite modest. There were no inexplicable urns at corridor corners or bizarre paintings hanging on the walls.

She continued to walk just behind Victor, following him through the door.

It wasn't exactly an audience chamber—it felt more like a reception hall.

At the center, likely stood the Tiant lord, a man around twenty-five years old. Near him was a considerably older woman. And closer to the front of the room than the lord was a young man, about twenty or so.

Among them, the one who stood out the most wasn't the man who seemed like the lord—it was the young man.

With his flowing silver hair that reached his shoulders and impeccably handsome features, his lips formed a gentle smile. While his attire was noble-like, it wasn't too ostentatious, more subdued. There was none of the typical arrogance associated with disdainful nobles.

Yet—how should it be described—his presence was different and unsettling.

"Ah, hello, hello. First and foremost, greetings. I am Victor Illyrius, serving as the guide of the 'Saint of Healing,'" Victor said, not particularly reverent but rather in a playful tone.

"I am Slack Tiant, the Tiant lord. I am grateful for your response to our request," the Tiant lord said in a formal tone.

There wasn't a hint of gratitude in his words or demeanor, and Victor didn't seem to mind. Neither did Mizetta.

However, standing next to him, Jack showed a blatant hint of displeasure.

"Oh-ho, so you're the rumored 'Saint of Healing.' I am Blitz," the silver-haired man said.

Just because the man's interest was directed at her made Mizetta feel as though an icy blade had been plunged into her spine. Fear, that was probably the closest feeling.

The next moment, with a loud sound, Victor was seen kneeling. But why he suddenly knelt so forcefully, nobody knew.

"Please forgive my rudeness, Your Highness, the Second Prince!" Victor prostrated himself, exhibiting humility that contradicted his earlier demeanor.

Victor Illyrius had always maintained a nonchalant attitude, and he hadn't shown much respect to most of the nobles he had encountered before. Perhaps it was a portrayal to avoid underselling the 'Saint of Healing,' but at this moment, he discarded such pretense and seemed genuinely reverent.

The Second Prince…?

Mizetta looked at the man named Blitz. Indeed, his mere presence inspired awe in others. While other nobles might threaten Mizetta's life with a three-inch dagger, this man could do the same with just a breath.

But—upon closer reflection, that was all.

Either way, it didn't change the fact that Mizetta could easily be harmed.

So, although Mizetta imitated Victor and knelt down, she hadn't been taught how to properly address royalty, so she didn't know what to do next. Besides, why would the Second Prince be in a place like this…?

Currently, there are six children in the Louisse royal family.

From the first to the fourth prince, and similarly, from the first to the second princess.

Among them, the second prince, the fourth prince, and the second princess are not born of the queen but of concubines, resulting in lower succession rights—a fact I learned just the other day. I recall one of the servants, speaking briefly about the second prince at that time.

Yes, that's right—

"Hahaha, there's no need to bow so deeply to the 'Prodigal Prince.' Stand up, both of you. Just like the young swordsman here. Ah, you're quite the figure yourself. The hero who fought the demon general in Escard. How delightful."

As Blitz, the prince, smiled lightly, Jack remained standing without kneeling. While I couldn't quite grasp how disrespectful that was instinctively, I could imagine it might not be allowed in certain situations.

"Well, well. What do you mean by 'Prodigal Prince'?"

Incredibly, Jack asked without using honorifics. Nevertheless, Prince Blitz seemed unperturbed, even smiling as he responded.

"Oh, that's famous among the nobles. Taking advantage of his low succession rights, he wanders around the kingdom as he pleases. You can't treat the king's son with disrespect, but he annoys the lords he visits and interferes with their work. If he continues like that, he'll earn himself quite the reputation."

The Prodigal Prince.

His nuisance was explained to be due to his competence.

"Now, now, enough cozying up to the floor. Please, fulfill the reason for your visit. Mariel San Foresight of Aelvs and I are quite friendly, you see. I'd love for the 'Saint of Healing' to demonstrate her healing magic. Honestly, to think beastmen would dare to harass forest inhabitants as if they were on the brink of slaughter. Unbelievable. Violence is the lowest form of negotiation. Using violence to achieve anything is foolish. Don't you agree?"

As Blitz continued, smiling cheerfully, I couldn't help but recall Victor's earlier sense of unease.

Perhaps, I couldn't avoid being swept away by something.

It had been that way before—being swept away by something different now, I was sure.

I was almost certain.