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Translator: penny
Chapter: 262
Chapter Title: Hatsan at the Auction House #9
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Enya Sardich's pulse was utterly bizarre, unlike anything I'd ever felt in anyone else I'd examined.
Sssrrk.
A faint trickle of qi flowed from the tip of my pinky into her wrist. I could feel it zinging—racing up her wrist, along her arm, over her shoulder, and down through her chest and abdomen.
But that was it.
No signal reached below her waist.
Her lower body felt exactly like that of a dead person. Even when I pushed a bit more qi through, nothing changed.
The qi I sent to her lower half cut off right below her navel and vanished without a trace.
Was this even possible? Her lower body might as well have been dead.
Stunned, I said,
"Could I possibly take a look at your legs or feet?"
"M-My f-feet!?"
Enya sounded utterly flustered.
At that, the maids standing nearby drew blades from their dresses with a sssling—sound.
Until just moments ago, they'd seemed like mere background fixtures, but now they exuded an overwhelming pressure that felt downright murderous.
"You barbarian, how dare you try to peep at the young lady's body? We can't allow it. Do you know what happens to healers like you who take advantage of confusion and grief?"
"Your time is up. Get out before we draw our swords."
Their killing intent, bent on protecting their lady, made my skin prickle.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but these women seemed almost as strong as Enya herself. True bodyguard maids, then.
"Get out now."
"If you stay, we'll kill you."
Their declarations were chilling, and I had the distinct feeling these women would slice my throat without hesitation.
A noble's daughter, indeed. Even with the baron's daughter, touching a woman's body had me breaking into cold sweats. With a count's daughter, it was even more nerve-wracking.
As I started to tense up, Enya—who'd sounded so flustered—smoothly raised her palm.
"It's fine. On our Gaia Continent, there's a custom of keeping women's feet carefully hidden, but I've heard that's not the case in the Black Wasteland. In fact, don't they consider it a virtue for both men and women to proudly display healthy bodies there?"
Enya seemed to interpret my request as a cultural difference between the Black Wasteland and the Gaia Continent. At her words, the maids—with hands slipped under their billowing dress skirts, ready to draw—frowned deeply.
"Display their bodies? What a barbaric custom. To suggest such a thing to the young lady... We'll drag this scum out and behead him right now."
Unlike her maids' passionate outrage, Enya regained her composure.
"I, Enya Sardich, respect the cultures of those from beyond the continent. Still, asking to see my feet is a bit disconcerting. Can you understand my embarrassment and my people's reaction?"
Was she asking me?
"I understand."
"Hatsan of Samaria. You seem to know etiquette in a way uncommon for a foreign barbarian. So you must know what it means to ask to see a lady's feet. And yet you still insist—why?"
"Because it's absolutely necessary. Important things are important precisely because they're more vital than anything else."
"Ah, young lady, this man! He's trying to deceive us with nonsense! A woman's feet are for her husband's eyes only—that's the custom! We absolutely cannot allow a barbarian to lay eyes on your body—!"
"Better I cut down this barbarian myself and face the punishment than let two hundred years of Sardich history be sullied by foreign hands!"
The maids were furious beyond measure. But I could understand their attitude.
According to Delphina, in this world, asking to see or touch a woman's feet was even more rude and shameless than asking to see her breasts.
But backing down here would solve nothing. I'd entered this mansion's garden with resolve I couldn't abandon.
I said,
"Can you take responsibility?"
"What more do you have to say, barbarian!"
"If you don't let me see her feet and Lady Enya ends up living with half her body crippled forever—or worse, if her health deteriorates and her life is threatened—can you take responsibility for that?"
"What?"
"From what I hear, Lady Enya is Count Sardich's only child. For the one who must carry on the family line and bear heirs, this malfunction is a tragedy for the city. For the kingdom, even. If there's a chance to fix it and you block it over petty rules and etiquette, can you truly bear that responsibility?"
"Wh-What nonsense—!"
The maids looked utterly thrown. They'd never expected this curt, mumbling barbarian to unleash such a torrent of words.
Right now, my tongue and lips spun like lightning had struck my brain. I was amazed at myself.
Had training my aura improved my oratory skills too? Not that it mattered now.
As I racked my brain for a final nail in the coffin, Enya—who'd been listening quietly from her chair—spoke.
"Then, Hatsan of Samaria. Can you take responsibility?"
I could almost see her yellowish-green eyes peering from beneath the black veil. Her body was gaunt, but that gaze burned undimmed. The will to live was always fierce.
I said,
"I take responsibility. That's a promise."
It sounded solid even to me, so I nodded. Whether that swayed her or not, she soon laughed heartily from beneath the veil.
"Pfahhahat—."
It was less the laugh of a noble lady bedridden by illness and more like a battlefield general commanding her troops.
The growling maids withdrew their hands from their skirts and resumed demure postures.
After laughing heartily for a while, Enya said,
"I'm called a genius. But I'm no genius. Nor a fool, of course. I know full well that those who prop me up do so on the glory of my name, Sardich. That's why, since childhood, I've had a knack for seeing through lies and schemes. Samaritan, there's not a shred of deceit in your words."
"Ah, young lady, surely not—."
"Very well. This body once blessed and graced by Lady Minerva. It might be irreverent to say, but in your spirit, Samaritan, I sense the same lofty providence of Hypnos as that day. Show me."
It worked.
My heartfelt speech had gotten through. I wasn't sure how, but this clever lady had misunderstood—or conveniently interpreted—my words.
People with grave illnesses were easily swayed by even trivial tales.
That's why snake-oil salesmen thrived, dubious medicines sold, and religions gained power.
Those desperate to live wanted to believe in anything.
Of course, I was different from those charlatans. I had the real deal.
Since she'd placed her faith in me, I owed her a fitting reward. No regrets for trusting me.
With that in mind, I knelt before her wheelchair.
Slowly extending my hand, Enya shuddered on her shoulders.
"St-Still, I can't help feeling some revulsion. Whew—. Could you give me a moment?"
"No issue on my end. But if you can walk again—if you can rise above this war's scars—could you promise one reward?"
"Reward? What kind—?"
"The same as what you gave me when the war ended."
"That...? I'll consider it."
Ssswk—.
Glancing back, I saw the door guard who'd been watching yell outward.
"Herbalists! Short break!"
My audience time had far exceeded the allotted one minute. Before me, Enya kept taking deep breaths, huu—.
She had to be nervous. From her view, it was like me asking a strange woman to expose her genitals to cure my illness.
I had nothing to lose but pride, but Enya had a lifetime of noble lady dignity at stake, doubling her hesitation.
Srrk—.
Finally, Enya lifted the blanket.
There, delicately placed on the wheelchair's footrest, were her feet and legs. Neatly shod in shoes. As I touched them, the maids—who'd accepted the situation—let out gasps.
"Lord—."
"Please lift this affliction swiftly."
Their prayers be damned; my hand slowly grasped her cold ankle.
"Ugh—."
Enya made a sound like she'd been punched in the gut.
"Can you feel anything?"
"No. But it feels... strange...."
"Then look at some distant mountain or whatever. It'll be over soon."
"Huu—. I can't. I have to watch with my own eyes. Is that... not allowed?"
"No, it's fine."
Ssswk.
Casually, I slipped off her shoe. Her dainty foot emerged onto my palm.
Pampered by her maids, even her paralyzed foot was beautifully maintained—smooth, soft skin.
Srrk.
I cupped her big toe.
"Hnngh, uuu—."
The hearty laugher from before was gone; now she whimpered like she might cry. From the restraining maids came zzzzt-like prickling energy.
I felt like a bomb squad tech. Red wire, blue wire—touch the wrong detonator, and boom. No different in reality.
Precise, accurate, swift.
Thub—.
Cupping her foot in both palms, I lifted it slightly and pressed my thumbs into the Yongquan acupoint at its center.
The spot that stimulates hardest under strong pressure. Said to wake even the dead. To unravel the war scars gripping her lower body.
Zzzt, zzzrit—.
My thumbs tingled as a bizarre sensation surged from my fingertips.
"Haaa, aaah—!"
Not just me—Enya began shrieking high-pitched.
"Young lady, are you all right? Is this scum using some vile sorcery?"
"M-My foot itches and tingles. Something's rising from it. What... what is this—."
Good, she's reacting. It was working.
Drawing on days of volunteer work at the clinic, I poured strong qi into her sole again.
Zzzt, zzzt—.
Qi from my body climbed her foot, ankle, calf.
Twitching.
"Nngaaah—!"
Like electrocuted, Enya convulsed and screamed.
Her sensation probably matched exactly. I was forcing open her blocked meridians and qi.
"Uwaaah, agh, ahn, ahng, aaah—!"
But from her mouth came unexpectedly lewd sounds. Flustered, the maids stopped watching and grabbed my shoulders and arms.
"G-Get off her!"
"Barbarian! Stop right now—!!"
But my body was perfectly heated now. I pushed the qi from my knees just a bit further—to her thighs, a little higher.
"Ahng, ahn, ah, ahnaaang—! Haaah! Haa...!"
Shivering.
Her red dress hem darkened wetly. The maids bristled in fury.
"Y-Young lady! You perverted demon! What strength is this?!"
"Call for help!"
"No! If this gets out, we're done!"
Ignoring the maids yanking my hair and pinching my neck and shoulders, I sank deeper into inner focus.
Qi pushed to her thighs now neared her lower abdomen. A bit more, and this bizarre half-paralysis might lift.
Grrrrk—.
Finally, pressing my thumbs brutally into the point, Enya flopped like a fish out of water—no more screams. She might fall and get hurt.
"Maids! If you don't want her injured, hold her shoulders!"
"Wh-Who are you to order me—!?"
"My body, it's moving on its—."
My earnest plea worked; the interfering maids pinned her shoulders and arms to the chair.
Good.
My qi now headed for her dantian in the lower abdomen. The key spot storing human qi, the Guanyuan point.
Spread my qi there. Even a droplet. Like a tiny mustard seed growing into vast groves.
The drop of life I planted would flourish mightily within her.
"Not much longer."
"N-Nooo—! Stop! St-Stop! I-I'm sorry, sooo sorry, stooop! L-Let gooo!"
Regaining her senses, Enya thrashed to escape, but the maids holding her arms and shoulders made it futile.
"L-Let go! I said let gooo, ah, ahng, aaaah—!"
"Y-Young lady! Young lady—! Sorry! My body won't obey meee—!"
"Aaaaah—!"
Zzzzt—.
With a thunderous scream, Enya collapsed. Simultaneously, the maids gripping her arms shrieked and fell to the floor.
Pffft—blood spurted from my nose, and my head cleared.
Before my eyes floated the usual Karma Value update, and Enya—veil askew, eyes brimming with tears—looked up at me.
"What... in the world...."
I told her,
"Enya. Enya Sardich. If you believe in me, you'll definitely walk."
Srrk, srrk—.
Her feet flailed.
Seeing her lower body move, she asked incredulously,
"This... how is this possible? Who... who are you?"
Srrk, srrk.
Soon, bracing on her wheelchair, she stood fully on the ground. Legs atrophied from disuse wobbled like a newborn fawn's, but she steadied herself gripping the chair and wall.
"Young lady—."
"The young lady... she's standing again...."
The sprawled maids marveled. One with weak tear ducts even cried.
Srrk.
Enya lowered the black veil on her forehead and asked again.
"What did you do? Who are you?"
Her yellowish-green eyes looked deep and clear. No bluff about detecting lies.
"Who... would you like me to be?"