The young mercenary was in a daze, staring blankly at the beautiful face of the priestess. Like a puppet, he reached out his hand to lightly grasp the girl's hand, allowing her to help him up from the ground.
"May Denia bless you, my child." The girl extended her luminous hand, touching the youth's forehead. He felt a wave of coolness spread from his forehead to the rest of his body, driving away the alcohol, pain, and fatigue. "Promise me you won't sit on the ground like this again," she said.
"Yes, my Goddess." Warmth welled up in the youth's chest. He felt an unexplainable urge to cry and fought back tears, responding with a fervent nod.
"So..." The lady priest gazed gently at the young mercenary and asked with her divine voice, "Would you still like to buy me a drink?"
