[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke-Chapter 206: The House of Healing

Fresh fruit, steaming bread, golden-brown pastries, and a still-bubbling pot of herb tea were placed on the small wooden table. The garden’s scent drifted in through the open windows, mixing with the warm aroma of food.

There were four chairs around the table, and two of them were already occupied by Xion and Serena.

Just as Xion finished placing pancakes on the table, Noxian rushed to his seat.

"Hurry up, brother. I am starving."

Xion flicked Noxian’s forehead before sitting back. "You are always in a hurry."

It was not a lie, though. Noxian, being the one to handle most of the things related to Xion, was very busy.

Even with the help of Serena, Noxian did not want to take the risk of Xion being drugged again.

After that incident, both Serena and Noxian had become far more vigilant. Most of the village’s day-to-day affairs were now under the careful administration of people they trusted without question.

But when it came to matters that directly affected Xion—his food, his medicine, his schedule — they handled everything personally.

If Xion needed to inspect the school, Noxian went with him. If he was heading to the hospital, Noxian would already be waiting at the door, fully armed.

Yes, there were guards. But Noxian never relied on them when it came to Xion’s safety.

Xion never bothered to complain. He’d accepted their hovering presence without much trouble. Although, sometimes, he would shoot them that faintly exasperated look, the one that said, "Really? Again?" freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Still, even Xion knew better than to argue. So, going and coming back from the hospital with Noxian had become a routine for him.

Serena, who was in charge of everything, poured tea into three cups. Her movements were calm, but her next words were not, "Your hair looks like a bird’s nest."

Noxian grunted as he reached for a pastry. "Is that your way of saying good morning, Aunt?"

Her white eyes narrowed slightly and the pastry from Noxian’s hand flew away.

"Brother, Aunt is bullying me again!"

If there was something that had remained the same other than Xion’s infinite fondness for Noxian, it was the purple-haired boy’s childishness.

Xion hid a smile behind his teacup. "You should apologize, then. Don’t talk to your elders like that, child."

"It’s always me apologizing to her," Noxian muttered through a mouthful of fruit. "Anyway, it’s not like she ever really forgives me."

"Ah, then..." Serena traced the rim of her cup with one sharp nail, "...I was considering giving you a new sword. But forget it."

Noxian froze mid-bite, "...Sorry, Aunt. I was being a brat."

Xion chuckled and reached for the jam. Dabbing some onto the pancake he gave it to Noxian. "We’ll head out after breakfast. I want to check on the new patient."

"The unconscious one?" Serena asked.

Xion nodded. "Still no identification. No injuries that explain his condition either. His vitals are... odd."

"How odd?" Noxian asked, brushing crumbs from his fingers.

He hadn’t been home when the man was brought in. He’d only heard that a stranger had collapsed by the riverbank and been carried to the hospital by some of the villagers.

However, Xion was already back home by that time.

The healer who was on the night shift had informed them about the patient’s body stats.

"His mana levels are higher than they should be."

"Oh," Noxian mumbled, not really caring about the stranger’s life. And once again, he and Serena were messing with each other.

Well, it was mostly Serena teasing the puffer fish Noxian.

Xion shook his head with a faint smile before rising from his seat. As much as he wanted to enjoy the quiet morning, patients waited.

"I’ll see you in the evening," he said, waving as he left the dining area.

He had barely stepped out the front door when footsteps scurried behind him.

With half pastry still in his hand, Noxian was ready to follow along.

Xion had told him countless times that the guards were there for a reason. There was no need to shadow him every second.

But, as always, logic held little sway when it came to Noxian and his obsession with Xion’s safety.

So, this time, Xion didn’t argue. He simply let Noxian do as he pleased—which included selecting a white horse for him, while Noxian climbed atop the black, majestic one like a self-proclaimed knight.

"White suits you, brother," Noxian said with a grin, clearly proud of his choice.

That was how both of them reached the hospital.

Though the hospital belonged to an ancient era, under Xion’s guidance, its management ran almost like a modern institution.

There were receptionists at the entrance, especially trained to identify the patient’s problems and direct them to the proper section, where skilled healers waited, ready to take over.

Xion was usually called in for major cases that were beyond the healers’ capabilities. Some of them were strange. Some were dangerous, while others were outright absurd.

Devil’s spawn and cursed bloodlines fell into his domain, much to his dismay and amusement.

As he reached the ward, a thin, sharp-nosed man stepped forward to greet him.

"My Lord, you’re here. This is the one I mentioned," Bard said, lifting the curtain with a careful hand.

Lying on the bed was a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, or at least, that’s what his weathered face suggested. The air around him shimmered with unstable mana, pulsing and twisting like a whip.

So much so that the attending healers had been forced to retreat several steps back.

Xion’s gaze was attracted to the strange black marking that scrawled across the man’s forehead, looping in sharp, deliberate curves.

From what he had learned in history classes, these kinds of scars were actually tribal tattoos.

But the identity could be figured out later. Right now, the immediate problem was the violent storm of mana surrounding him.

And if they didn’t stabilize it soon, it wouldn’t just be the patient in danger— it could very well take the entire ward down with him.

After four years, Xion’s control over mana had grown razor-sharp, refined to the point that even when he sent a needle-thin thread of his own energy into the sleeping man’s core, there was no resistance.

He traced the flow, searching, sensing.

And then he sighed.

There wasn’t anything seriously wrong. No spells, no ancient curse, no hidden explosion waiting to go off.

It was just high blood pressure.

The violent fluctuations of mana were simply a reflection of a body pushed past its limit.

A lack of food along with the heavy travel this person might’ve been enduring all this time had taken a toll on his body and finally forced him into rest the hard way.

With hushed movements, Xion pressed his palm gently above the man’s chest. His own mana seeped in, wrapping around the wild energy like silk over thorns, and began draining it away until the air around the patient finally stilled.

Only then did Xion reach for a slip of paper, scribbling down a list of herbs in his quick, neat hand.

He handed the note to Bard. "Let him rest. Make sure he eats a proper meal once he wakes. Until then, give him this medicine."

And once again, Xion’s regular day of treating the patients began.

Most days, Xion returned home completely drained. But the hearty smiles and gratitude of the patients would always give him enough strength to return the next morning with a smile.

This was Xion’s life. It was calm and peaceful — just the way he had always wished.

Of course, the days were also filled with Noxian and Aunt Serena’s regular spats, along with the occasional strangers who tried to barge their way into his carefully built peace.

Nonetheless, all in all, Xion was content.

All the while, the North was anything but tranquil. In fact, it was exactly the opposite of Xion’s current serene life.