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Chapter 187: The Miracle Healer (1)
They spent the first day in the capital resting well in the hotel room.
No matter how luxurious the vehicle was, sitting and traveling for a whole week was still quite exhausting.
‘If I think about it, Fran must’ve had it even harder.’
Oscar thought he should at least treat Fran to a nice meal today.
More than anything, it felt more natural than staying holed up in a hotel room.
‘Since Chief Walker’s side got attacked, I won’t be able to clear myself from suspicion either.’
And for good reason—Neil Brion’s final mission was to assassinate him.
Even if that weren’t the case, it was still suspicious to be sightseeing in the capital at such a sensitive time.
So first and foremost, he had to dispel any doubt in the eyes of the enemy.
‘I need to act like I’m just another tourist here in the capital.’
Just as Oscar set his course of action, a knock came at the hotel door.
—Oscar! I’m heading down for breakfast. Wanna come?
It was Fran’s voice.
Oscar glanced around the hotel room once more before stepping into the hallway.
“Oh? You’re really going to eat?”
“You said let’s eat.”
“I did, but… you usually skip breakfast.”
“Well, since we’re all the way in the capital, it’d be a waste not to enjoy the atmosphere.”
Fran looked at him with half-lidded eyes at that comment.
“What’s that look for?”
“You’re not the kind of guy who puts much meaning into traveling.”
Quick-witted as always.
Come to think of it, how many times had they roamed around outside with Sirin?
Oscar shrugged.
“This is the capital.”
“Hm. Fair enough.”
Only then did Fran nod and lead him to the dining area.
The breakfast at Sirius Hotel was superb.
It was enough to remind him of Killian and Veronica.
Fran, apparently thinking the same, spoke while chewing his bacon.
“Killian going back to his hometown was unavoidable, but couldn’t Veronica have come with us?”
“She’s in training.”
“I was training too, but you dragged me out anyway.”
“...Veronica doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
Fran, having learned the painfully honest truth, let out a hollow laugh.
“Ha. I ought to return that damn license one of these days.”
Grumbling, Fran cleaned his plate and asked:
“Anywhere specific we should check out in the capital?”
“Hmmm.”
The top priority was to act like tourists.
But even that time should be spent meaningfully, if possible.
“I want to stop by the auction house.”
“Auction house? Why there?”
“Just because. If I see a good artifact while browsing, I might buy it.”
Someone might ask:
Does a level-6 mage even need artifacts?
To which the answer would be: Absolutely.
‘Even more so, in fact.’
Just like with knights, as mages level up, their growth naturally slows down.
That means their skills plateau.
At that stage, the most efficient way to become meaningfully stronger is by acquiring artifacts.
It was the surest way to elevate one’s abilities with money.
‘Of course, getting too reliant on them isn’t good either—but I’m not at a level where I need to worry about that.’
Despite reaching level 6, he was still unstable in many areas.
If there were artifacts that could cover those weaknesses, they’d make things much easier.
Fran stood up from the table.
“Alright. Let’s walk there and work off the meal.”
* * *
As Oscar walked the streets, he looked around, lost in memory.
‘This place has really changed.’
Compared to Sirin, it had changed even more.
The streets were cleaner, and the buildings looked far more refined.
Of course, some places like the old plaza still looked exactly the same.
“Step right up! This doesn’t happen every day!”
In front of a fountain, dozens of people were gathered, staring at one man.
It was the typical appearance of a con artist you’d see anywhere.
‘Can’t believe people still fall for stuff like this.’
Just as Oscar scoffed to himself, Fran spoke excitedly.
“Whoa, he said this doesn’t happen every day. Must be some kind of special performance. Let’s check it out!”
“...”
Oscar followed Fran with a sigh, realizing why these kinds of jobs have lasted through the ages.
The person surrounded by people wore a gray robe with a hood pulled up.
His face couldn’t be seen, but judging by his hands and voice, he seemed relatively young.
He slowly looked around at the crowd and began to speak.
“There are surely those among us here today… who live carrying wounds in both body and soul.”
“Ooh~.”
A few people nodded, as if the words spoke directly to them.
Fran excitedly tapped his own arm.
“Did you hear that? He’s totally talking about me!”
“...”
Oscar looked at him pitifully and muttered while protecting his own arm:
“That’s a classic scammer’s line. It’s worded so vaguely that anyone who hears it thinks, ‘Hey, that’s just like me!’”
“What if he’s the real deal?”
There’s no way someone like that would be doing this kind of act at this time.
Oscar watched the scene unfold, unimpressed.
“There are also those who pretend not to notice the pain they’re in… or those who keep telling themselves they’re still fine.”
His voice was low and resonant.
It had a strange quality, as if it wasn’t just echoing in the ears, but reverberating in the heart.
The scammer slowly raised one hand.
“If anyone here feels like I might be talking about you… please come forward.”
People hesitated, looking around to see if anyone would step up.
After a moment, a middle-aged woman cautiously approached.
The man spoke to her with a kind voice.
“You are a very brave person. I won’t ask your name.”
“Th-thank you.”
Her left shoulder was slightly slouched.
The man observed her quietly, then gently said:
“Your left shoulder’s been hurting, hasn’t it?”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
“When did it start?”
“It’s been seven years now. I overworked myself at the factory back then…”
The man nodded quietly.
“I see. If you don’t mind, may I take a look?”
“Y-yes, please.”
“Good. Then let’s try healing it together.”
He placed one hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Hmm. Hmmm. I see…”
He nodded, as if understanding something, and spoke again.
“Do the aches get worse before it rains?”
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“Y-yes! For some reason, it always stings more when the weather is gloomy.”
“Then at night, do you have trouble sleeping? Or do you often change positions because of the discomfort?”
“Th-that’s also true!”
As the woman nodded her head frantically, the crowd gasped in awe.
“In my opinion, this wound is a magical scar. It’s an injury derived from damage to your bodily circuits at the time of the accident. Your body has already healed, but the pain of magic still remains.”
With those words, a clear turquoise magic circle began to slowly unfold around the con artist.
“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.”
The magic circle spun gently, then quietly absorbed itself around the woman’s shoulder.
As if peeling off a transparent scale, a faint mark began to appear on her skin.
“Is this… my wound?”
“Technically, it’s the residual imprint left on your bodily circuits. The physical wound healed a long time ago, but the pain from that time remained like a ‘scar’ on your circuit.”
The con artist waved a finger.
Then, the residual magic that shimmered like a scar unraveled like thread and vanished into the air.
“I’ve removed the scar and tidied up your bodily circuits. You might feel slight pain for a few days, but it won’t throb or ache anymore.”
The woman moved her shoulder a few times, then covered her mouth in disbelief.
“Oh my, it really… feels so light already. This is the first time I’ve felt like this since the accident.”
“Oh, wow.”
“He really healed her.”
“That’s amazing!”
The surrounding spectators began to murmur with excitement.
The con artist bowed to the crowd like a magician and said,
“That concludes the magical treatment.”
“Wooooow!”
The crowd cheered, but Oscar, standing with his arms crossed, still looked unimpressed.
‘Aren’t those two just putting on an act?’
If his guess was right, they’d probably start introducing the products for sale next.
But the con artist, as if mocking his expectations, opened his mouth again.
“That’s all for today’s treatment. If fate allows, I hope we meet again.”
As the audience realized the performance was over and began to disperse, the con artist also began to pack up.
At that moment, his movement suddenly stopped—as if frozen—as he looked toward their direction.
“……”
A strange silence followed.
Just as Oscar narrowed his eyes, wondering if the man recognized him—
“Fran Sirius?”
The con artist addressed not him, but Fran.
“Huh? Do you know me?”
Fran blinked in surprise and asked back.
The con artist removed his hood.
Wavy dark brown hair flowed down to his shoulders.
His overall look was sleek, like that of an artist, but his most striking feature was his eyes.
Deep gray eyes, as if they could see through people’s emotions.
They might have seemed cold at a glance, but warmth and compassion lay within that gaze.
“Of course I do! Don’t you remember me?”
“Wha—!?”
Fran’s eyes widened to the point of bursting when he saw the man’s face.
“Teacher? What on earth are you doing here…?”
“Haha, think of it as a form of volunteer work. I didn’t expect to meet you here either. Maybe it’s fate.”
Approaching with a big smile, he scanned Fran up and down as he continued.
“I’ve heard the rumors. I heard you’re now a leading young mage of the White Tower. That’s impressive.”
“Well, I owe it all to this guy.”
When Fran shyly pointed in his direction, the man turned and introduced himself.
“Ah, I’m late with introductions. I’m a magical healer, Vesalius Silva.”
Vesalius Silva?
Oscar, who had heard that name several times before, looked shocked.
‘Wasn’t he the healer who failed to treat Fran and Verdi?’
That’s why he had thought of him as a quack.
But Sasha once told him that Vesalius was a truly skilled magical healer.
Only then did Oscar ease his suspicious gaze and offer a slight nod.
“I’m Oscar Crucian, a mage of the White Tower.”
“Oh! So you’re Professor Oscar!”
Now it was Vesalius Silva who looked surprised.
He hadn’t expected to see the famous mage in person.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you at least once. I heard you were the one who successfully treated both Fran and Verdi—patients I had failed to heal.”
“Well… I just got lucky.”
To that, Vesalius gave a gentle smile.
“You’re more modest than the rumors say. I’ve examined both of them myself. I know better than anyone—those aren’t the kinds of wounds you can treat by relying on luck.”
He briefly checked the watch on his wrist, then offered a suggestion to the two.
“If it’s not too much trouble, would the two of you be willing to come to my office and chat for a while?”
Fran tilted his head.
“Your office? Is it nearby?”
“Yes. It’s less than a ten-minute walk. I happen to have the day off today.”
After thinking for a moment, Vesalius added,
“And… there’s a patient I’d really like Professor Oscar to take a look at.”
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