"You can do this." I muttered, clenching my fists at the sight of the tent's broad interior. "Truman will be the only one in there with me." I announced, putting a leg inside before I felt a strong grip on my arm.

I was lightly propelled backwards. "If that man dies." Blert discreetly whispered beside my face, making me smell his nasty-ass breath.

I scrunched up my nose and shook his hand off.

"People will notice, let go." I ordered. "Until he does, which he won't, act composed and don't let anyone in other than Truman. Got it?" I glared.

Blert couldn't see my glare, but he could hear the audacity in my voice, which made a vein throb on his forehead. He gave me a long look while I entered the tent with Truman.

The tent was larger than the main one we left at camp, and the entire place was furnished, leather and wool on every chair and on the large bed in the middl— No time to be envious, where's the patient?

It took me a look around to realize he was on the ground, looking as though he had collapsed only just now, an open letter in his hand and a letter opened beside his body on the carpet.

"Why's he there!?" I exclaimed, running to his side.

"I believe the servants were too afraid of touching him and being accused of being the ones to murder him. So no one dared touch the young lord since he collapsed."

I shook my head as I sat next to him, repositioning his back straight and his face towards the side.

His tongue hadn't been swallowed, thankfully.

Noting the man's pallor, I grabbed his wrist and checked for a radial pulse.

I watched his face as I confirmed a slow and faint pulse, making me frown. My first instinct was to lay my head over his chest, to look for any unusual sounds.

I ripped off the light beige blouse he wore to inspect his chest, but underneath it, his torso was shielded in what seemed like a leather corset, hard as wood.

I couldn't help but throw a half-confused, half-annoyed look at the man.

He would be mostly in his thirties, with black gelled-back short hair and long black lashes resting above his closed eyes. His physique was leaner, with an unusually long stature and toned arms resting beside his torso.

His face was getting red, what the hell did that mean...?

Okay, I gotta get rid of the chest plate first.

As I reached for the gear, Truman spoke over my shoulder. "Make sure you do not touch the protection gear, your holiness. It is enchanted in numbing poison. I can smell it." I took my hands back, sniffling to detect the scent he spoke of, but to no avail.

People in this world are a different breed, I swear...

Due to his thick leather shield-like clothing, I couldn't even hear the patient's heartbeat.

"Truman," I called in my normal voice, turning halfway, the blue hood covering half my head rustling against my skin to the side. "You're now involved. Keep this a secret, okay?" I said, ripping the light blue cloth off my face and throwing my head back to make the hood fall off.

I wouldn't be surprised if he had already realized I wasn't the clergywoman given the way I was running earli—

"Holy shit, WHAT!" He took a defensive step back. "You were our healer all along!?" His golden eyes were as wide as they could get.

"I..." I frowned, at a loss for what to say.

Move on. Move on, Penelope. Focus.

"Sure. Whatever. Come take off this guy's leather clothes somehow. I need to access his torso."

Although the maid who led us here mentioned nothing concerning any trauma or injury or bleeding history, my heart shivered at the thought of his fainting being due to some sort of internal bleeding. Mostly because I had few tangible ways to confirm or treat it.

I also would hate to see his blood..

"Yes, revered lady." Truman knelt down, eyes plastered on the guy.

While Truman worked on the man's chest plate, I took note of his sudden eye motions, and discovered something interesting.

Not only was the man awake, but he was pretending not to be as such, meaning there are no signs of confusion or pain he is feeling.

They must have lied about his medical record.

An heir to a dukedom, leading the largest merchant group of the empire, accompanied by no servants whatsoever while he and his frail health paraded about the lands.

It's either he's a reckless idiot or a prideful brat. And knowing his status in the empire, having heard brief mentions of his father in the book, and examining his features once more, taking note of the raven hair and pale skin, something dawned on me.

This is him, the Main Villainess's older brother!

Thinking about it, he must have woken up just now...

I had to fight off the corners of my mouth from rising into the sinister smile it wanted to become, because I was about to save a villainess's beloved brother... I need to leave my mark. This guy needs to remember me.

Truman put a hand on his hip, where his dagger hung. "I fear I might be compelled to use a dagger to settle this matter, revered miss."

"A dagger?" I repeated, eyeing a twitch on the patient's lips. "No need," I said. "That could endanger the patient's life."

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I wasn't lying. Knowing he's awake and listening, he might make a sudden motion and we could end up with a murder case.

Worse yet, awake as he might be, he was still ill. His breathing was faint and his temperature was quite high. For now it should be a little over 38 degrees at best, but I'll figure out what to do if it goes up higher than that...

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Robert had been feeling slothy and lightheaded since he woke up in the morning.

He was having quite the trouble with his breathing, something that wasn't unusual, which was why he hadn't paid his symptoms much attention.

But, for him to abruptly lose control of his limbs and watch himself collapse, only to regain consciousness later... Even Robert, with all of his 'I haven't the time to attend to this matter' attitude, was starting to think he might need to make time for a priest's visit again.

Sitting up on the ground of his tent, feeling lightly dizzy, he wondered if it would be suitable to call for one amidst their journey when, "You can do this," Robert heard someone muttering to thenselves at his tent's entrance.

How embarassing for them, He thought.

"Truman will be the only one in there with me."

Truman? Robert knew no man of such a name.

For reasons he couldn't point out, Robert's good sense had left him as he heard two stranger figures step in, because instead of standing up and regaining his grace, he threw himself to the ground and played dead. Absolutely disgraceful.

"Why's he there!?" Robert fought the temptation of opening his eyes to check on what the owner of this melodic voice looked like, but Robert was a a man of grace, well-educated and well—This woman was touching his wrist! The audacity!!

The woman ripped off his clothing, and Robert's self-control began to thin.

There was another man next to them, and the man spoke softly, but at this point Robert couldn't hear things properly, his entire body was tingly, his head was throbbing, and worst of all, the stranger woman was touching his hands and chest, letting him know of how soft her skin wa—

No. What in the world was he thinking? Robert wasn't this kind of man. If anything, he must punish whoever this woman was for laying her dirty hands on a man of his caliber. She must be some maid pretending to know in medecine. Robert found the simple thought of a woman with such shamelessness nausceating.

"... dagger..."

What? A dagger! Were they trying to assassinate Robert!?

"Shit—" He heard the woman mumble.

A foul-mouthed as well. How aggravating!

"He's swea— ... I need to— ... Truman, go fet—"

Truman?

Feeling a lock of soft hair on his neck, Robert flinched.

Along with the sniff of lavender from the stranger's intruding hair in his space, whether it was willingly or unwillingly, Robert ended up taking a glimpse at the intruders.

A tall dark skinned fella, with toned muscles and a disturbing eye color, and closer, a woman...

Robert blinked, his vision between blurry and clear, his breaths between faint and nonexistent, his heart between throbbing and... enamored.

Her eyes were a clear sea, trapped inside two crystal, shredded in raw and intense determination. Her neck was long and sturdy, her features delicate, yet sharp. Long and luscious hair, in long waves of a pale golden hue, reminding Robert of the clear desert sand in his favorite hourglass. Plump and rosy... Lips...

Oh dear, is that the Temple's emblem on her chest? Robert gasped, his consciousness slipping away from his grasp. It's a woman of the Temple. Oh no. Oh Korpa... Oh no...

Robert Kimberlye wasn't a gullible man in the slightest. If anything, he was everything else. He was responsible for the biggest trading business in Yilderen. He was Duke Kimberlye's only and favorite son. He was the cold gentleman who broke women's hearts because work came before anything else. Because there was nothing so important as his ambitions.

He must be ill. Right... He was ill. These thoughts were temporary and would surely leave his loyal mind and heart within the next hour. He was certain.

... Is it legal to marry a priestess...? That was the last remorseful thought tjat occured to Robert before he drifted off into a deep slumber.

----------------------------------------

I opened his eyes using my fingers, but he seemed to be unconscious now.

Alright, I don't need to act like a graceful and calm, professional woman now.

Let's just hope he's impressed with me or something... Actually, let's just hope he survives first.

"Fetch that pillow, Truman." I pointed to one of the pillows on the guy's bed.

I can't believe these people get to sleep in a yurt, furnished with a bed and everything while I had to sleep on little more than dry ground...

"Here you go, miss."

Using the large pillow Truman gave me, I propped up his feet.

"Grab that dagger and take this plate thing off." I motioned to Truman's hip, where he hung a glass dagger. He nodded and knelt by my side.

While he did that, I stood back up and stretched my back. I then gathered my hair into a bun as it had gone loose earlier because of the way we ran here. I cringed at the burning sensation from the injury on my neck that I had hurriedly bandaged before we came here, and noted sweating all over the patient's body, which urged me to grab something to wipe it off, and...

~

"Diabetes." I told Truman, who stood by the entrance while I rewore my clothes.

I had summoned the young lord's personal servant and had them spill the beans about his real medical record. Turns out he has polyuria, which means he pees oddly frequently, and the reason this illness had gone unnoticed till now was because the young lord 'only believes in the Temple's healing prowess, and finds that physicians are under-qualified to treat his troubles.'

And because priests use magic and don't actually have any medical knowledge per se, they would only appease his symptoms relatively each time, while his illness was never named or thought to be a chronic disease.

"Detebeses." Truman spoke out to the people outside the tent in such a confident tone that I had to question what I said.

I pulled on his sleeve and insisted. "Diabetes."

Half the man's body was out with the public who were worried about their leader, while the other half I could see and speak to. His head turned back and forth between the tent's outside and inside. He was communicating with the strangers outside in my stead, since it was frowned upon for priestesses' identities to become public.

Though I don't see what that has to do with me talking to them, but I respect it.

"They are asking if he's alive and well." Truman turned to me.

"Yes. He's currently asleep. I gave him two tablespoons of honey, which should do him some good for now. I will prescribe him a diet he needs to follow very strictly." I told Truman, which he repeated to the people outside. "Oh, and I insist that he sees a physician. His condition is terrible for someone with type one diabetes. I don't care if he doesn't have time, if he doesn't want to die within the next few months, he needs an urgent solution to deal with his illness."

Did people even call it diabetes at this point in time...?

People clapped and gasped of joy when they heard the 'yes'.

While Truman retold them what I said, a figure approached the tent and abruptly made its way in.

Big eyebrows and a honey-colored gaze, it was none other than Blert.

"I dare say I am impressed, priestess." He gave me a forced grin, which he dropped immediately. "Now grab your shit. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" I threw a look back at the patient who was now peacefully sleeping on his bed.