The Brilliant Healer's New Life in the Shadows: Volume 3

Prologue

Life in a slums orphanage was notoriously harsh.

Children were seen as free labor and treated as slaves. No adults watched out for them, and they were only fed scraps once a day. Each child was assigned a task; things like meal duty and maintenance work were comparatively better, but most jobs, like begging, being sent away for hard labor, or criminal activities, were far from conducive to a child’s healthy development. Some were even abruptly sold off somewhere, and no one knew where they ended up, or what became of them.

Zenos’s task had been to loot corpses. It was a common occurrence in the slums for people to simply collapse and die; the boy’s job had been to quickly spot the bodies and steal anything that might be worth some coin. But he’d had no interest in doing so, and had often ended up burying the dead instead of looting them, only to be berated for it later.

To him, the sight of those people, dead in the street, had been like catching a glimpse of his own future. So perhaps at first he’d been driven by sympathy. Not only did these people fall over and die, they got looted too? Maybe it’d be better if he just brought them back to life, he’d thought.

And so he’d begun observing the numerous decaying corpses in the streets and learned the anatomical structure of various different species, visualizing how they functioned. Despite not knowing how to read the words, he pored obsessively over tattered books on anatomy and magic that someone from the orphanage had picked up from the roadside.

And thus, Zenos attempted to resurrect people. Every day, he’d cast spells on the dead, willing them to return to life. He lacked the know-how, but he had a mental image. Blood vessels, threadlike nerve fibers, muscles, skin. Those things would organically join together, repair themselves, and regain their original functions. He had a strange conviction that he could do it, even though he had no basis for it at all.

Over time, a white light began to envelop the corpses during his attempts. And today, at last, it seemed like it was going to work. The white light shot out, resounded, and the corpse’s fingers felt like they were about to move—

A harsh smack on his head from behind broke his concentration. The light dispersed and vanished. Turning around, he saw a dirty-looking man with a scruffy beard glaring daggers at him.

Don’t ever use that power on the dead, the man told him. That’s for the living only.

And that was how Zenos met his mentor.

***

Zenos? said Lily, tilting her head curiously. The afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window reflected off her blonde hair, making it sparkle and gleam.

What is it, Lily? Zenos replied, snapping out of his reverie and looking up at the young elven girl.

Um, you were just spacing out, so I wondered if something’s up.

Huh. Was I? he said, looking confused.

Lily glanced at the letter in the healer’s hand. Are you reading Mr. Becker’s letter again?

Oh. Yeah, kinda.

They were in a corner of a ruined part of the city that had once been decimated by a plague. Zenos was a brilliant healer but unable to obtain a formal license due to having been born in the slums, and thus had secretly set up a clinic here. His intention had been to operate quietly, away from prying eyes, but his days had turned out to be wilder than he’d imagined. Between visits from the leaders of the largest factions in the slums, a royal knight, and a rampaging golem from the Great Human-Demon War, his life had quickly become anything but on the down-low.

And last month, one of only seven elite-level healers in the whole Kingdom of Herzeth had stopped by. That man, Becker, had offered to turn a blind eye to Zenos’s illegal clinic in exchange for help with searching for a missing person from the Royal Institute of Healing. After many twists and turns, an unprecedented mass poisoning attempt, and a case finally closed, he’d returned to his clinic.

The letter in his hands was from Becker—part of the payment he’d received for his troubles—and described the man Zenos had once called his mentor.

My mentor... he muttered quietly.

Becker had supposedly once been close to Zenos’s mentor, yet even he couldn’t remember the man’s name or face anymore. According to the letter, this was likely due to a curse. The mentor—at the time an elite healer himself—had paid a steep price for dabbling in the forbidden arts of resurrection magic.

Zenos quietly recalled the furious expression on his mentor’s face after smacking him for trying to use resurrection magic on a corpse in the street. He still remembered the man, perhaps because the curse had activated before they’d met. Becker had written in his letter that, if Zenos wanted to know more, he should look for his mentor’s notes.

His notes, huh...? he murmured.

Lily peered into the letter. Hmm. Are you friends with Mr. Becker now, Zenos?

What makes you say that?

Look, it says so right here.

At the end of his letter, Becker had written, Zenos, I hope your path as a healer is filled with fortune. Your friend...

Oh, you’re right. It does say that, Zenos said. I see. So we’re friends...

What do you mean, ‘you see’?

I haven’t really had friends in a while, so I’m not good at this stuff, you know.

Aston and his other former party members most certainly weren’t his friends. And he got along with the demi-humans in the slums, yes, but they were also his patients. His mentor had been, well, a mentor, and Umin and Cress from the Royal Institute weren’t exactly his friends either.

An eerie chuckle echoed from above. Not a single friend. What a lonely man you are, said Carmilla, a wraith (and their housemate) clad in jet-black garb and wearing a mischievous grin.

You say that like you have any, Zenos pointed out.

Of course not, Carmilla retorted. No one is worthy of Carmilla, the Lich Queen.

True. I doubt anyone can match up to a top-tier undead who’s been around for three centuries.

I reign upon a solitary throne. I need no friends. None can domesticate me, she said, puffing out her chest proudly.

Yeah, yeah...

Oh, right! Lily interjected, as though she’d just remembered something. I was thinking of baking a cake tonight. Will you be there, Carmilla?

Naturally.

Okay. I want you to eat it fresh out of the oven, so come down to the table as soon as I call, okay?

Carmilla chuckled. Of course. Nothing beats freshly baked. I shall be here as soon as you beckon me over.

Sounds to me like you’ve been thoroughly domesticated, Zenos remarked, unable to help himself. He then propped his elbows on his desk, and his chin on his hands. Friends, huh... he mumbled. I think I used to have some, long ago...

Memories came to mind of huddling together in a dimly lit room, fending off hunger. The children he’d spent time with at the orphanage in the slums had been his friends, surely. But now he had no idea where any of them were.

Lily peered intently into Zenos’s face as he reminisced. Hey Zenos, what am I to you?

Hmm? Well... The healer crossed his arms and looked at Lily, who appeared tense. You’re like...family, I suppose.

What?!

I mean, you know, I’ve never had any family, so I’m not sure, but...

Lily approached him, blushing. S-So, if I’m family, that makes me your wife, right?

Huh? Does it?

Yeah! It does! I’m your wife!

Carmilla chuckled again. Jumping to conclusions as usual, Lily.

Lily grumbled. What about Carmilla, then? she asked Zenos.

Uh... A guardian spirit?

N-N-Nonsense! the wraith snapped. "How dare you call the Lich Queen a guardian spirit!"

It’s a joke, Zenos told her. You’re family too.

Wh— But— I— Carmilla stammered in confusion, then floated up, disappearing into the second floor.

What’s her problem?

I think she was embarrassed, Lily said.

As the healer and the elf exchanged glances, the clinic’s door loudly burst open, and three women—the leaders of the demi-humans in the slums—nonchalantly barged in.

Ooh, what’s happening here? Anything fun? asked Zophia of the lizardmen.

I wanna join! said Lynga of the werewolves.

Don’t forget about me, added Loewe of the orcs.

So, like, why do you guys always come over together? Zenos asked.

After the temporary closure due to Zenos’s infiltration of the Royal Institute of Healing, the clinic in the ruined city was slowly returning to its usual routine.

Chapter 1: Night Festival in the Slums

The doc’s mentor, huh...?

The usual gang was gathered at the clinic this afternoon, and the demi-human leaders, curious about Becker’s letter, were having a lively conversation.

Must’ve been an impressive guy to be the doc’s mentor, Zophia mused.

"I didn’t even know he had a mentor, Lynga chimed in. I was surprised."

He was an elite healer, yeah? Loewe asked. ‘Impressive’ is right.

Zenos took a sip of the tea Lily had brewed and nodded slowly. "Well, he was impressive... I think... He’d been quite surprised to find out that his mentor, who’d looked like a dodgy old man at best, had actually been an elite healer. He taught me to read, told me everything about the world of healing magic, all sorts of things. If I am who I am now, it’s thanks to him for sure."

Are you looking into this mentor of yours, doc? Zophia asked.

Well, I’m curious, the healer admitted.

Lynga and Loewe both made a bit of a face at this. I wouldn’t recommend it, Lynga said.

Me neither, Loewe agreed. I want to help you, Zenos, but I’m not too keen on that.

Why not? Zenos asked.

Lynga and Loewe furrowed their brows. I dunno much about magic, Lynga replied, but forbidden spells and curses? That gives me the creeps.

Tangible problems I can solve with my fists, Loewe added. But curses? I can’t punch curses.

Guess not, Zenos muttered, crossing his arms behind his head.

Zophia propped her chin on her hand. So, curses, eh... What even are they?

Soon, all gazes turned to Carmilla, who sat at the edge of the table sipping tea. Noticing the many eyes on her, the wraith slowly raised her head and cleared her throat. I know not the precise nature of curses, she explained. Some say they are a form of divine punishment, others believe them to be the whims of demons, and still others whisper of powerful contract magic from great wizards of eld. Whatever the case, one must know that meddling with the natural laws of the world incurs severe retaliation.

Wow, said Lily in admiration, teapot in hand. You know so many things, Carmilla.

The wraith chuckled. I have not lived for three centuries for nothing.

Except you’ve been dead this whole time, Zenos pointed out as he always did, then let out a small sigh. Well, it’s not like we can know for sure either way.

In his letter, Becker had said to look for the man’s notes to find out more. Zenos did recall seeing a black leather notebook back when he’d traveled with his mentor. He’d innocently asked once to see it, been scowled at, and been denied. After that, he’d never seen the notebook again. His mentor had either hidden it somewhere or burned it; either way, it would be difficult to find.

There was actually one clue that came to mind, but even that was no longer a practical option. There was something I wanted to say to him... he thought, gazing out the window at the dazzling sunset.

By the way, doc, Zophia began, this is kinda weird, but...

Hmm? Zenos mumbled, suddenly brought back to reality. What is it?

We’re planning a little event, see.

An event? Lily asked eagerly. What kind?

The three demi-human leaders exchanged glances, and all said in unison, A night festival!

A night festival? Zenos echoed, cocking his head.

Zophia leaned in. See, we’ve been talking, and we’re planning to hold a festival in the slums at night. There’ll be stalls, dancing, games with prizes for people who do well, stuff like that. And we want you to participate, doc.

Wow! That’s so cool! Lily exclaimed excitedly. It sounds like fun!

Huh. A festival, Zenos mused. I’ve never been to one, but it sounds interesting. His former party had once come across a festival in a town they’d passed through; he’d seen many stalls, and dressed-up people dancing away happily. The others had told him to watch their belongings, so he’d been the only one who hadn’t participated.

Another pitiful tale, Carmilla remarked.

I’m pretty confident about my pitiful past, Zenos said.

I don’t think that’s something to be proud of, Lily pointed out.

Zenos scratched his cheek awkwardly as he turned to Zophia. I mean, sure, why not? I’m looking forward to it.

Hells yeah! Zophia exclaimed. Make sure you come, all right? We’ll let you know when we’ve set the date.

With that, the three demi-humans left the clinic with a spring in their step.

Carmilla set her teacup down. A festival in the slums, she said. A place once known only for chaos and the stench of death, now hosting such a peaceful event. ’Tis all thanks to you, Zenos.

Thanks to me? he echoed.

You should come too, Carmilla, Lily said. It’s at night, right? So you can come!

Hmph! I, the Lich Queen, making merry at a festival? The wraith cast a sidelong glare at Lily, then slowly stood, rolling up her sleeves with a chuckle. None can best me at shooting games and scooping goldfish.

Yay! I’m so happy!

Sounds like we have one eager resident wraith, Zenos remarked.

And so, in the slums where