The next day proved to be quite hysterical. Ravina was jolted awake by the panicked scream of a maid who, upon seeing her, froze in shock. “You’re home!?” the maid stammered in confusion before fleeing the room as though she’d seen a ghost.

Ravina, still half-asleep, sat up in bed, blinking in confusion. What on earth had she done to deserve that reaction?

Before she could gather her thoughts, the caretaker burst into the room, the maid behind him. His eyes wide with disbelief. “Y-you’re right, she is here!” he cried, clutching his chest as if the sight of her had sent his heart racing. He dropped to his knees, gasping in relief, as if she had returned from the dead.

“What’s with all this racket so early in the morning?” Ravina asked, making sure to keep her hands and arms hidden beneath the blanket.

“My lady, you didn’t return last night, nor did you send word. We thought something awful had happened to you!” the caretaker cried out, clearly distraught. “Do you know what we went through? Where did you go? What time did you return? Dear gods, was anyone with you? My lady, you can’t just leave us to worry about you like that.”

There was something heartwarming about his genuine panic. For a moment, Ravina struggled with the emotions it stirred in her. She calmed herself enough to respond, “I’ll answer the questions later. For now, I really should get dressed. Can you please ensure breakfast is still being made?”

The caretaker stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Yes, my lady.” He turned to leave, gesturing to the maid.

“I’ll help you get dressed, my lady… er, might I inquire as to why you’re wearing a different dress than before?”

“No, you may not,” Ravina replied simply. “And I’ll get ready myself.”

The maid’s expression faltered, and Ravina briefly wondered if she had been unnecessarily harsh. Still, she needed to be alone when she changed. After all, she still wasn’t skilled enough to completely heal broken thumbs. Even now the light bed sheets caused her discomfort.

Once alone, Ravina rose from the bed, slipping out of her dress. The water in the basin was cold, no doubt left out overnight and forgotten in the panic over her not returning. She felt a pang of guilt for her people. She washed herself, shivering from the chill, and looked forward to a proper bath once she was fully recovered.

Her mind drifted back to Rupert. She needed to destroy him, but the question was how. If the royal backing him was of the main line, attacking him directly would be too dangerous. Even if it wasn’t, she would still need the Ravenshield family's support. I need information, she thought. And for that, the Count’s help. She could only wonder if this would be to much for him, for she was little more then a distraction. A tool to be used, not a daughter to protect…

After scrubbing herself clean with the freezing water, she dressed in a long-sleeved gown to hide her arms, added a pair of gloves that sent waves of pain throughout her body, and slipped on flats. With those, no gate guard would dare look down on her again.

She examined herself in the mirror, nodding in acceptance. Her appearance didn’t betray anything unusual. Only her hair remained a mess, but she wasn’t going to wash it in the basin after getting dressed. They were very heavy things when wet. So she tied her hair into a simple ponytail, hoping no one would care.

She was wrong. The caretaker, ever vigilant, sent her back to her room with a maid in tow before she could even touch breakfast. Only after being properly groomed was she allowed to eat.

It took some convincing, but Ravina eventually managed to leave the manor, though not without an escort. Mona, the lucky maid chosen for the task, assured her that she would diligently ensure Ravina’s safe return. Ravina didn’t mind Mona’s company too much, though she would have preferred a knight. Unfortunately, knights weren’t allowed within the city protected by royals.

“What a messed-up nation,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that, my lady?” Mona asked, curious.

“Nothing,” Ravina replied.

The two made their way to the Kremble House, a massive, stately church funded by the generous donations of the nobles. Perhaps that was why, as soon as they arrived, they were greeted by a priest dressed in pristine white robes. He must have recognized Ravina’s status by the maid in her shadow.

“Welcome, my lady,” he said warmly. “What has brought you to us on this fine day?”

Ravina knew she couldn’t exactly say, I was kidnapped by slavers and got injured during the escape. So instead, she smiled politely and said, “I would like to make a donation to the healers, but I’d like to look over the place first. Could I speak to the head of the healing department?”

The priest looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. “I’m sure… something could be arranged,” he replied, though with some hesitation. “However, the head is often busy, so—”

“It’s okay,” Ravina interrupted, keeping her tone pleasant. “Please, lead the way.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With that, she and Mona followed the priest into the massive church. They passed through the grand entryway, where rows upon rows of pews stretched out beneath the towering ceiling. Eight ornate windows adorned the walls, each depicting a god, their figures looking down from high above.

Once they moved beyond the main hall, they entered another wing of the church. This space had a more utilitarian feel, resembling an open office with small cubicles lining the walls. Here, priests dressed in black robes worked diligently, the red symbol of healing— a snake coiled around a heart—embroidered on their garments. These healers were the lifeblood of the church’s medical services, though their aid often came at a steep cost in golden coins.

Still, there were none better at healing than these green mages, though there was ongoing debate as to whether they were actually divine white mages. The arguments spun in circles, confusing anyone unfamiliar with mana colors, which were otherwise easy to depict.

“Ah, Avery,” the priest called out, stopping a nearby healer. “Can you see if Joana is available to meet with a potential donor?”

Avery, with a smug look that suggested he was always plotting something, replied, “Yeah, actually, she is.”

The priest turned back to Ravina and Mona. “Then, if you would, please follow Avery. He’ll take you to see the head of the healing department.”

“Thank you,” Ravina said, bowing slightly as the priest departed. Avery waved them over.

“This way, please,” he said, leading them to a door, which he opened without knocking. The office was small and functional, with just enough space for a desk and two chairs. Ravina, used to luxury offices, found it rather plain.

“Joana, you’ve got yourself a visitor,” Avery announced, then left before Joana could protest.

“Avery!” Joana called out, clearly irritated. Her tan skin, kissed by the sun, contrasted sharply with the dark, simple black sports bra and pants she wore. Her short, tousled brown hair framed a sharp, striking face allowed her striking green eyes to stand out all the more. Ravina, for a brief moment, was lost. Joana’s beauty wasn’t the fragile kind that could be molded or shaped—it was raw, fierce, and unapologetic.

Joana, still grumbling about Avery, flopped back into her chair. “That damn brat. I swear, I’m going to reverse heal that kid one day,” she muttered, waving a hand toward the chairs. “Please, sit, I guess.”

Ravina, caught off-guard by the way Joana’s presence filled the room, fumbled with her words, “Ah, y-yes, well…” she collected herself enough to turn to Mona. “Could you stand by the door?”

Mona hesitated for a moment, concern flickering across her face. But seeing no immediate escape routes in the small office, she nodded and closed the door, leaving Ravina and Joana alone to talk.

As soon as Mona closed the door, Joana wasted no time. “So, what do you really want?” she asked, her voice direct.

Ravina blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Joana leaned back in her chair, folding her arms in a way that drew attention not only to her well-defined chest but also her rock hard abs. “I mean, a noble coming in here to donate is usually just code for, ‘I want something, and I’ll pay you when I get it.’ So, what’s the real reason you’re here?”

Ravina hesitated, feeling the weight of Joana’s gaze. There was no escaping the sharpness in those green eyes.

“Ah, well… yes,” Ravina stammered slightly, her hands trembling as she slowly removed her gloves. She tried to ease them off without causing more pain, but the raw ache of her injured hands made the task nearly unbearable.

Once the gloves were removed, Ravina carefully rolled up her sleeves, revealing her damaged hands. “Basically, I want healing without questions,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.

Joana’s eyes flicked from one hand to the other, assessing the seriousness of the injuries. “That is quite serious,” she said, her tone measured. “And rather questionable.”

Ravina raised an eyebrow at the comment. “I suppose it is,” she admitted, her gaze unwavering. After a moment, she added, “But let’s just say I need to play this smart.”

Joana didn’t respond immediately, her green eyes locking with Ravina’s purple ones.

“You know what, fine,” Joana said, rising from her seat. She strode over to Ravina and perched on the edge of her desk, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp. “But I don’t want money. I want a favor.”

Ravina blinked. “And the favor is?”

“Nothing too bad. Well, a bit of evil, but you know—evil for the sake of good. Get my drift?”

“Not at all.”

Joana rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I want… uh… oh, for fu— I want you to kill a group of mercenaries along Dongua Pass.”

Ravina raised an eyebrow. “A priest wants me to kill someone?”

Joana shrugged, unbothered. “Well, hire someone. The mercs are attacking caravans that aren’t approved by the merchant group who hired them. It’s hurting a lot of people. I can’t get enough supplies to the other districts because of it. Nobles will be fine, but a lot of people rely on alms.”

“That’s… doable, I guess. Although I’m not sure how I’ll manage that with the ban on knights.”

“Oh god, no. Don’t send knights. Just hire some adventurers or something, under a false name. The merchant group’s a bunch of assholes anyway.” She took Ravina’s hands in hers, her touch surprisingly gentle. Warm arcane energy spread from Joana’s palms, and Ravina watched, mesmerized, as her hands were restored—no scars, no trace of injury. “Just get rid of the mercs so proper trade can happen, yeah?”

“I… think I can do that,” Ravina said, marveling at how quickly her wounds vanished.

“Great,” Joana added, as if it were all in a day's work. “Oh, and by the way, the churches have shelters for domestic abuse cases.”

“Huh?” Ravina blinked, caught off-guard by the shift in topic.

“So if something like this happens again, you can run to a church,” Joana continued, nonchalant.

“I never said it was domestic abuse,” Ravina replied, her voice guarded.

Joana shrugged. “You kinda did. Injured, don’t want even your servants to know. It’s either domestic abuse or you’re a masochist. And considering where the injuries are…” She let the sentence hang in the air, her eyes gleaming with the unspoken truth.

Silence stretched between them until Ravina, with an awkward chuckle, asked, “Do you get a lot of masochists here?”