"I have treated your wounds and used magic to assess your condition. Thankfully, there are no concerning injuries to worry about." The healer readjusted his glasses as he spoke to Ionia.
But her replied came with a hint of calm detachment, "I see."
Ionia gently touched the fully healed areas of her body that had previously been marred by injury. The skin still felt slightly sensitive and taut to the touch.
'No wonder vitamancers are considered inferior compared to divine powers,' she thought to herself.
Normally, healers could mend about 75% of the damage, while divine powers achieved a complete, 100% restoration, leaving the recipient feeling as good as new.
Once again, she couldn't help but notice the double standards in treatment, especially when it came to the Marquis.
Her sister was crippled in both legs, and the Marquis had spared no effort to secure the services of a priest, even for her minor injuries. In her case, despite the significant damage from training, she was only entitled to the care of a healer.
Yet, who was she to complain? The fact that her father had sent her a healer at all was a surprise.
Cutting through her thoughts, the healer continued, "Still, should you experience any discomfort or pain, call for me immediately."
"Hmm," Ionia hummed absentmindedly. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't do so without the Marquis's permission.
With a nod, Ionia expressed her gratitude, saying, "Thank you for your help."
Then turning to her maid, she ordered, "Marianne? Escort the gentleman."
Marianne, the maid, who had been observing the entire process, stepped forward and gestured with a brief nod to escort the healer out. The healer acknowledged her with a respectful nod and exited the room, accompanied by the maid.
"Hah." Ionia heaved a sigh and flipped her wrist back and forth, her eyes scanning through her stats, mentally noting a few things:
First, her Bloodlust and Stealth skills didn't appear on her stats unless she actively used them, almost like a bug in her system.
And second, she noticed that her health points had been completely restored to their original state.
"Useless," she muttered to herself, dismissing the status window with a flick of her hand.
She doubted that her previously owned skills would ever show up on her stats again unless she purchased their respective Skill cards and fused it into her system.
Pushing herself off the bed, she approached her desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved the NanoLink Carrier.
She examined it with a few taps, and was about to give up when a hidden compartment revealed a small scroll. This indicated that she had successfully passed the privacy security test of the NanoLink Carrier. Its resilience surprised her; it was still working after all these years.
As she unfolded the message, she noticed the scroll possessed high ManaTech properties. It allowed communication in a way that only one of the sender or receiver could read the message as long as a connection was established between them.
With the scroll flattened on the desk, the characters began forming one by one. She read:
[Dear Ionia,
I trust you've been well. Are you eating your fill and being treated okay?
Let me know if I can help. I'm worried about you since I haven't heard from you at all.
M.]
Ionia furrowed her brows, muttering aloud, "Who?"
Her fingers moved to rub the bridge of her nose as if that could prompt her elusive memories to resurface.
Counting the rare instances of kindness she had experienced on one hand, the name starting with 'M' did not ring a bell.
After careful consideration, she decided to search the drawers of her desk in a quest to uncover forgotten relics.
It took a few minutes, but her fingers stumbled upon a diary. As she opened it and flipped through the pages, she couldn't help but cringe at the romantic musings that filled nearly every entry, obsessing over Draven's handsomeness, his kindness, and the rivalry with Ellora Gaillot.
Just as she was about to give up on finding anything useful, she found a photograph tucked in the middle of the diary's pages.
The photograph revealed an elegant woman with long white hair, clear blue eyes, and an air of sophistication seated on a chair. Beside her stood a handsome man with slicked-back white hair and a gentle smile gracing his lips.
Flipping it, she noticed a note on the back of the photograph:
['Would things have been different had you been here, Myrdin?']
That was the name she needed, the sender of the message. Memories long buried began to resurface at the mere mention of the name.
After some contemplation, Ionia selected a quill pen and imbued it with mana instead of ink, composing a response. Two years was a delayed answer, but she hoped it would convey what she needed.
She then rolled the scroll, returned it to its hiding place, and discreetly adjusted the NanoLink Carrier.
Doubt still lingering, she imbued the miniature bird with mana, then made her way to the balcony. She stood there, watching the tiny messenger take flight into the distance.
Suddenly, an urgent knocking echoed through the room, instantly capturing Ionia's attention. Her eyes snapped in the direction of the door on instinct, her expression unchanging.
"Who?" she inquired, half-expecting it to be Marianne.
However, another voice, younger but familiar, reached her ears. "It's me. Not sure if Marianne informed you, but—"
"Come in," Ionia stated, cutting him off, her tone impassive as she returned to her desk.
As she tucked away the photograph and closed her diary to put it back in its place, Draven entered the room. Ionia had half-expected him to start ranting, but he remained unusually silent.
Her eyes shifted to him after a considerable pause, and she noticed his peculiar interest in her diary.
Ionia cleared her throat to regain his attention, prompting his dark eyes to refocus on her. "You were saying?"
Draven's youthful face was as handsome as she remembered, compassionate but reserved and somewhat detached from everyone.
"The marquis invited you to dinner," he stated, his tone steady, showing no embarrassment at being caught looking at her belongings.
"I know. Marianne informed me."
Another long pause ensued before he offered, "Let's go; I'll escort you there."
"I would've gone even without your help," she replied firmly.
Draven heaved a weary sigh, as if she were being difficult. "I came upon Stellia's request."
"Ah, of course, Stellia," she mumbled.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Ionia said dismissively, waving her hand. "Let's go before you give me a headache."
"You're acting weird today, Ionia."
"Yeah, sure," Ignoring his presence like he was common earth, she walked past him, and started in the direction of the restaurant.
Draven followed suit. "Your quarters are poorly managed, huh?" he remarked, observing their dimly lit and poorly cleaned surroundings.
To Ionia, it sounded like mockery, as if he were trying to rub salt in her wounds for indirectly calling him a headache. However, though it stirred an uneasy sensation in her stomach, she chose to ignore his comments.
"Ionia, I'm speaking to—"
"Draven Voidbringer, be quiet," she hissed, giving him a withering glare. It was the most emotion she'd shown since her return. "You're giving me a headache."
"If you're feeling unwell, we could always call the—"
"Tsk," she scoffed at his persistence and hastened her pace, leaving him behind in the hallways, as if he were a plague she was desperately trying to avoid.