Chapter 62: The Saintess’s Regret (Magic Castle Bonus)

Chapter 62. The Saintess’s Regret (Magic Castle Bonus)

Elia’s PoV

Elia stopped in the middle of the courtyard.

She had only meant to return to her room after checking on Darius. She had healed him herself, running her light through his battered body twice to make certain Garr’s ridiculous attack hadn’t caused any serious damage. After all, Darius had protected her when Raven’s shadow binding trapped her. Whatever else had happened inside the hunting ground, he had seen the attack coming and thrown himself between her and the worst of it.

She was grateful for that.

Yet when she turned toward the palace, her feet refused to move.

Across the courtyard, through one of the windows, she saw Rey sitting near the window. His face was turned toward the courtyard, but she could tell immediately that he wasn’t actually looking at anything. His eyes seemed focused somewhere far beyond the palace grounds.

The expression on his face made her chest tighten.

Elia knew what Rey looked like when the curse tormented him. She remembered the black veins crawling beneath his skin, his trembling hands, and the moments when his breathing became so ragged that she’d feared his heart might simply stop.

She remembered his laughter too... that horrible, unsettling laughter that had eventually made everyone wonder whether the Rey they knew was still inside that body.

But this was different.

There was nothing wild or unstable about him now. He simply looked solemn, almost heartbroken, and somehow that was more painful to watch.

Her gaze drifted downward before she could stop herself.

Rey’s upper body was bare, apparently because someone had been treating his injuries. For the first time, Elia properly noticed how much his body had changed.

She had heard about it, of course. One of the spies had mentioned that Rey had started physically training himself after the curse worsened, but Elia hadn’t paid much attention to that detail. Rey had always relied heavily on magic. Physical conditioning mattered, but never as much for him as it did for Garr or Raven.

Now his shoulders were broader, his arms carried visible definition that hadn’t been there before, and his torso looked leaner and stronger.

Not excessively muscular like Garr. It suited Rey differently.

Perhaps he’d started doing it because of the curse. If using ordinary magic caused him pain, then strengthening his body was logical.

Rey had always been like that.

Whenever one path closed, he found another. When a spell failed, he changed the formation. When an enemy countered one strategy, Rey created three more before anyone else had properly understood why the first had failed.

Her eyes returned to his face.

Was their betrayal hurting him more than she’d realized?

The thought made her lips tighten.

Part of her wanted to laugh at the idea. After what he’d done in the hunting ground, why should she feel sorry for him? Rey had humiliated all of them, manipulated their attacks, and even stolen her buffs.

Four enhancement spells.

She was still angry about that.

He had appeared directly in front of her and looked into her eyes before guiding her magic toward himself as though they were still fighting side by side.

Then he’d thanked her.

The bastard.

Her cheeks warmed slightly at the memory, and she immediately pushed the feeling away.

She should have been furious, yet another thought refused to leave her alone.

Three SSS-rank heroes had attacked one magus.

Rey should have died.

There was no gentler way to think about it. Darius, Garr, and Raven were each stronger than him in raw power. Together, the battle should have been an execution.

Instead, Rey had turned it upside down.

He hadn’t overcome their strength with greater strength. He had used their power against them. Every time Darius attacked, Rey manipulated Raven or Garr into the path. When Raven attempted to restrain him, Rey shifted the battlefield again. When Garr finally unleashed enough power to break a fortress wall, Rey made sure everyone else was standing where that power would hurt them instead.

Elia had observed the fight from close enough to understand something the others probably didn’t want to admit.

Rey was still more capable than them.

Not stronger.

More capable.

Perhaps that was why she’d hesitated when Darius ordered her to buff them.

She had told herself it was because she couldn’t openly choose a side. She was the Saintess and a representative of the Light Temple. Participating directly in the murder of another hero would create consequences far beyond the hunting ground.

But that wasn’t the entire truth.

She hadn’t wanted Rey to watch her choose Darius over him.

Somehow, Rey had noticed her hesitation. He always noticed things other people missed.

Then he’d stolen her magic anyway.

Elia swallowed and studied him more carefully.

There were no black veins across his skin. His hands weren’t trembling, and there had been no visible curse reaction despite the enormous amount of magic he’d used during the hunt.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

Could the curse be gone?

No. A curse born from the Dark Lord’s core couldn’t simply disappear. Something had happened to Rey, and whatever it was, he wasn’t telling them.

Her attention returned to the melancholy expression on his face.

Perhaps this vulnerability gave her an opportunity.

The thought should have felt cruel, but Elia considered it practical. She was the Saintess. She was important to the kingdom and the Light Temple, and powerful people had always protected her because her healing could save hundreds of lives.

Rey had protected her once too.

Perhaps he could again.

"Saintess?"

Elia didn’t react.

"Saintess?"

She blinked and turned toward the escort standing beside her. "Yes?"

"Please come with me. Your room is ready."

"Oh."

She glanced toward the window once more.

Rey was gone.

A strange disappointment settled in her chest, but she quickly turned away and followed the escort.

The room prepared for her was luxurious, as expected. Warm water had already been brought, and two maids helped remove the dirt and blood from the hunt, though Elia insisted she could handle most of it herself.

She washed and changed, letting the servants remove every visible reminder of what had happened.

By the time she sat before the mirror, she looked almost normal again.

One maid carefully brushed her pale hair while Elia studied her own reflection.

The Saintess stared back at her.

Clean, beautiful, untouched, sacred, exactly what everyone expected her to be.

Yet her thoughts kept returning to Rey.

She remembered standing behind him during battles years ago and how safe it had once felt. Darius had officially been their leader, but whenever something went wrong, everyone looked toward Rey.

Where should they move?

Which formation should they use?

What weakness had he noticed?

How could Elia conserve her mana?

Rey always seemed to know.

And she’d left him.

She had left because he was dying, because nothing she did could heal him, and because watching him deteriorate terrified her. Every attempt to save him had failed until she’d eventually convinced herself there was nothing more she could do.

Maybe that had been true.

Maybe it hadn’t.

Her fingers tightened in her lap.

Could she go back to him now?

Was it already too late?

Rey had five wives.

That thought irritated her more than she wanted to admit.

Still, she was the Saintess. Surely that meant something. People didn’t simply abandon the Saintess. They protected her, needed her, and valued what she could do.

Rey had once done all of those things.

Perhaps she could remind him.

She didn’t need to force anything or ask for too much immediately. She could simply reconnect with him, speak to him, and show him she wasn’t his enemy.

If his curse truly was under control, then perhaps everything had changed.

Perhaps there could still be a place beside him for her.

"Thank you," Elia murmured.

The maid bowed and stepped away.

Elia rose, smoothing her white dress before walking toward the door. Her hair was neat again, her skin clean, and there was no trace of the terrified woman who had been trapped beneath Raven’s shadow while Garr’s attack came crashing toward them.

She reached for the handle just as the door opened.

Elia froze.

Rey was passing through the corridor.

He had changed as well. Clean clothes replaced the torn ones from the hunt, his dark hair had been tidied, and there wasn’t a trace of blood left on him. From the direction he was coming, it seemed he’d just returned from the king’s study.

For a moment, Elia could only stare.

He looked nothing like the broken man she’d watched through the courtyard window.

His posture was straight, his eyes clear and controlled. That heartbreaking vulnerability had vanished so completely that she almost wondered whether she’d imagined it.

Then Rey noticed her.

Their eyes met.

Elia’s breath caught.

She had spent the last several minutes wondering whether she could return to him, whether there was still something left between them, and whether the man who had once protected her might still exist behind those cold eyes.

Now he was standing right there.

Her lips parted.

"Rey—"

Only then did Elia realize she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say.