Elara stood there for a moment, watching Darius’s retreating figure until he disappeared among the tents. His abrupt departure left her a bit unsettled, wondering if she had said something wrong.

  Lost in thought, she barely noticed Lana’s approach until the woman was right beside her. “Elara, why don’t you go rest for today?” she suggested, her voice kind but firm. “You’ve had a long day.”

  Elara pulled herself out of her musings. She realized Lana was right; her mind was getting foggy. “Yeah, I think I will,” she agreed, offering a smile. “Thank you for everything today.”

  Lana waved off her thanks. “It’s no trouble at all. Now, off to bed with you.”

  Elara handed the empty bowl back to her before making her way to the room that had been assigned to her.

  She sat on the edge of the bedroll, reaching to unlace her boots. As she slipped them off, she wiggled her toes, relishing the freedom from the confines of the leather.

  She lay back, her head sinking into the pillow. As she stared up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, her mind drifted to what lay ahead. There was little certainty in her path, but for now, she could only take things one step at a time.

  The next four days passed in a steady rhythm. Elara assisted Lana with various tasks around the encampment—preparing meals, mending tents under Lana’s guidance, and gathering supplies—all while keeping a watchful eye on the comings and goings of the adventurers.

  Despite the bustle, she found her gaze constantly drawn to Darius. Each day, he would return from the dungeon with a new injury, his clothes torn and bloodied.

  Each day, she set aside a portion of the meal she and Lana prepared, anticipating his late arrival. She knew the routine by now. He was always busy with his lone ventures into the dungeon, often returning when the others had already eaten. The first time she did this, it seemed like a small but meaningful gesture; the thought that Darius might go hungry if she didn’t plan ahead weighed on her.

  On of those days, as the mist settled over the camp, she spotted him emerging from the fog, his silhouette slowly taking shape in the dim light. He approached her directly, his face drawn with exhaustion. Without greeting, he asked quietly if there was anything to eat.

  Her heart sank as she realized the portion she’d set aside for him was already gone. And now, with the effects of the fasting pill she had taken finally wearing off, she needed to eat again.

  There was no hesitation from her. She took her own share, still steaming and fresh, and then gave him the bowl with a gentle, “Here, you can have mine.”

  His face flickered with surprise and something else, perhaps embarrassment, as he fumbled with the bowl in his hands. “I—I can’t accept this,” he stammered, his voice thick with apology. “You’ve already done much, and I haven’t been able to repay you.”

  She offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the awkwardness between them. “You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, her voice warm and steady.

  She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you saving up for something? Otherwise, I can tell Lana to keep a portion for you—once you pay, of course.” Darius didn’t seem like someone who hoarded wealth, and despite what she had assumed about adventurers making good money.

  Darius nodded, a grimace pulling at his face. “Healing is more important right now,” he admitted, his tone quieter, almost reluctant. “A quick recovery is what I need to head out again.”

  Elara frowned. “But isn’t there a healing tent in camp?”

  “There is,” Darius said, exhaling sharply. “But I can’t use House Valemont’s resources anymore. That tent is off-limits to me now.” His jaw tightened before he added, “I’m paying another adventurer with a healing class instead.”

  Elara didn’t press further, and the conversation drifted into silence. After that, their quiet exchanges became routine, slipping into an easy rhythm over the next few days. Still, each time they spoke, she found her thoughts drifting—wondering about Darius’s solitary ventures into the dungeon. What drove him to push forward alone?

  One afternoon, as the camp buzzed with activity, she found herself with a rare moment of stillness. With her tasks temporarily done and nothing pressing to occupy her hands, her thoughts inevitably drifted to the new class she had acquired.

  Testing it on herself proved too unsatisfying, too lacking a real-world application. Better to see healing in action on someone else, someone with legitimate wounds. Her gaze drifted involuntarily towards Darius, who sat under a makeshift canopy, cleaning one of his armor plates. A quiet, contemplative expression settled over the man, contrasting his usual sharp aura. It was unusual for him to be at camp when the sun was still up.

  Darius, deep in the cleaning process, was oblivious to her stare.

  She sat up. He would be the perfect test subject for her healing abilities. His solitude meant she wouldn’t be interrupted; no one would question her unusual healing rogue class.

  Besides, the knowledge of her abilities would stay between the two of them, well, as long as Darius kept it to himself. She wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react if he found out a rogue could heal him, but she knew he was always willing to part with money for healing.

  That should make him more inclined to keep things quiet. If she offered it to him in exchange for something less, maybe just a half the coin he pays the other healer, it would be worth it for both of them. She has no money to her name, and is currently racking up a bill by staying with Kurda. Having a few coins would be nice.

  Advertising her skills to others seemed like a loss to Darius, especially if her healing became public knowledge. The thought of such attention on her made her nauseous.

  With him, it could be a quiet, discreet arrangement. And besides, she was sure he’d appreciate having a source of healing at half price. He was the perfect choice.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing stray strands behind her ear.

  The First Unanswered skills seemed…expensive. Way more expensive than anything her Voidstalker skills cost. It wasn’t fair. Why such a huge difference? Did the system prioritize damage dealers over healers?

  She squinted at the status screen, scrolling through her newly acquired skills. She glanced at her mana pool. Her eyes drifted to her new stats with the class bonus.

  Name: Elara Brightwood

  Class 1: Voidstalker – lvl 50

  Class 2: The First Unanswered - lvl 1

  Status:

  Unspent stat points: 20

  Strength: 63

  Vitality: 62

  Dexterity: 45

  Intelligence: 65

  Wisdom: 78

  Luck: 1

  Health: 744/744

  Stamina: 276/276

  Mana: 390/390

  Just as she considered heading over to Darius, Lana’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Elara! I need an extra set of hands over here.”

  She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Darius. He seemed free now. But there was no rush—she could speak to him later.

  For now, she turned to Lana. Helping with camp tasks grounded her, kept her present. Besides, Lana had promised to show her how to use the plant-processing device for the ingredients she scavenged.

  She showed her how to process the wild plants, a surprisingly delicate process. Green tubers were ground into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle, then dusted with a silvery powder that Lana said was ground bone.

  “Well, not just any bone,” Lana explained with a wink. “Got to be the right kind. Keeps things balanced, ya know? Adds a little extra…oomph.”

  While Elara pounded the tubers, Lana snipped and chopped bright red berries, their juice staining her fingers a vibrant crimson. She mixed in a fragrant, pungent herb that scratched at Elara’s nose.

  “That’s deerweed,” Lana grunted, laughing at her grimace. “Good for the soul, they say. Especially when you’re trying to chase away those pesky nightmares.”

  Elara worked diligently, fascinated by the methodical process and curious about the strange ingredients. Lana’s knowledge seemed vast, gathered over a period spent in the wilds, and she reveled in soaking it up.

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  Through the afternoons, they prepared hearty meals for the adventurers who streamed back from the dungeon during the day, stews bubbling over open fires, thick bread stale today, but arguably better reheated.

  She learned how to tell a few edible plants from poisonous ones, how to chop herbs without bruising them, and how to forge a sustainable fire that could last for days. Lana even taught her how to make a simple poultice for burns and cuts using crushed leaves and honey.

  As evening deepened, the camp air buzzed with chatter and exhaustion. The adventurers, faces grimed with soot and wounds patched with tattered cloth, huddled around the fire, their laughter boisterous and infectious.

  Elara filled bowls with a fragrant stew that Lana had crafted, ladling out portions. She watched as the adventurers devoured the meal with gusto, their faces alight with appreciation. Finally, she was given her portion.

  She sat by the dying embers of the fire, her bowl of stew warming her hands. The scent of roasting meat and herbs lingered in the air, a comforting contrast to the chill evening air.

  Waiting payed off when she saw Darius approaching, his familiar lean frame silhouetted against the darkening sky. His gait was a little slower than usual, and she noticed a fresh bandage wrapped around his left hand, the cloth stained a dull red. He paused for a moment, glancing at the empty fire before signing, “Late again,” a hint of amusement in his expression.

  Elara just smiled and held out the bowl of stew.

  He signed a thanks before accepting it gently. Then, he settled down on the ground a respectful distance away, the soft rustle of leaves the only sound besides their quiet breaths. His fingers danced against the bandaged hand. A silent acknowledgment of her glance. “It’s alright,” Darius said after a moment, his voice rough but gentle. “You shouldn’t have bothered. Taking advantage of your kindness is…,” He hesitated, running a hand through his pink hair, catching a strand that had wandered loose from its braid. Elara waved him off, her gaze fixed on his wounded hand.

  He nibbled on the stew, the first bite slow as he savored it. She watched how he avoided moving his bandaged hand when he ate.

  She waited patiently, letting him savor the stew. After all, hunger comes before any proposals. When he finished, he reached out with the bowl, ready to hand it back.

  “Hold on,” Elara murmured, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice.

  Darius paused, his brow furrowing slightly. Their usual routine involved him finishing the stew, thanking her, and handing the bowl back. This unexpected interruption threw him off.

  “Everything alright?” he carefully asked, his brows furrowing slightly. Elara shook her head, unsure how to phrase what she wanted to ask.

  “I, uh...” she stammered, heat creep up her cheeks. She took a deep breath, deciding to be direct.

  “How much are you paying the healer?”

  Darius blinked, clearly surprised. His fingers tightened around the bowl, knuckles turning white.

  “Why?” he signed, his voice cautious.

  “Just curious,” she replied, forcing a casual tone.

  “I, uh, usually pay...” He hesitated, carefully choosing his words.

  “Fifteen silver pieces per session,” he finally admitted.

  Fifteen silver pieces.

  Elara’s jaw dropped. One silver pieces for a bowl of stew. Fifteen pieces to mend a wound. Fifteen pieces for a single session. Her stomach twisted.

  She’d imagined Darius paying maybe a couple of silver, tops. Maybe half.

  “Fifteen?” she breathed, incredulous.

  Darius nodded, his expression grave.

  “Yeah. Only one healer here beside house Valemonts. Plus, mana’s a finite resource. So, they pick and choose. Prioritize their own crew before any paying customers.”

  “Makes sense, I guess,” she murmured, trying to wrap her head around the economics of healing in this strange place.

  She’d assumed healing would be more accessible, more communal. Darius watched her, his gaze intense.

  His gaze bore into her, his expression hiding any emotions. “Why do you ask?” he questioned, his voice low and measured. His eyes roamed over her body. “Are you in need of healing?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks under his intense scrutiny. She waved her hands in front of her, flustered by the intensity of his gaze. “No, no,” she stammered, shaking her head. “I’m fine. It’s not for me.”

  Darius leaned back, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why the sudden interest in the cost of healing?”

  She braced herself and met his gaze, her eyes determined. “I wanted to offer my healing abilities,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. “To you, specifically. At a price, of course.”

  Darius’s eyebrows shot up, surprise evident on his face. “You have a healing skill?” he asked, his tone a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

  Elara nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I do,” she confirmed. “I thought you might be interested in a more... affordable option.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And what price did you have in mind?” he inquired, his gaze intense.

  Elara swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Half of what you’re paying now,” she blurted out, hoping it sounded reasonable. “Seven silver pieces per session.”

  Darius considered her offer, his fingers tapping against his bandaged hand. The silence stretched between them, and she fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.

  Finally, he spoke, his voice thoughtful. “And what guarantee do I have that your healing abilities are sufficient?” he asked, not unkindly.

  “Your level is lower than theirs and your class is not focused on healing. How can I be sure your skill will do the job?” He crossed his arms, a calculation look in his eyes. “If I’m going to pay for healing, I need to be sure it’s worth it.”

  Elara’s heart raced with excitement as he showed interest in her proposition. She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I could try healing your hand right now,” she offered, gesturing towards his bandaged hand. “Just to show you what I can do.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head. “Try?” he repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Have you healed others before?”

  Realizing her poor choice of words, she nodded quickly, trying to cover her blunder. “Yes, of course,” she assured him, hoping her voice sounded confident. “I’ve healed before.”

  Darius sighed, looking up at the night sky as if contemplating the choices that had led him to this moment. Elara watched him, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She was eager to test her healing skills on another person. But a small part of her felt insulted by his skepticism.

  He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice low. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  She reached out, her fingers hovering over his bandaged hand. The familiar tingle of mana coursed through her veins.

  A soft golden glow emanated from her fingertips, casting a warm light over Darius’ hand. She concentrated, pouring her mana into the healing touch. The magic poured from her, seeping into his skin, mending the damaged tissue beneath.

  Darius watched. The pain in his hand subsiding, replaced by a soothing warmth. He loosened the bandage, letting it fall away to reveal a hand marred by a scar, where once something had pierced through the flesh. The skin looked rough and calloused.

  Elara sat back, a triumphant smile on her face. But her smile fading as she took in the scar that remained on his hand. It looked painful.

  He flexed his hand. He looked at her, a newfound recognition in his eyes. “Good enough,” he murmured.

  She beamed, her heart soaring at his praise. She watched as he flexed his hand, examining the healed wound.

  “The wound has healed, but I did not recover nearly as much health as the other healer usually does,” he remarked, his voice calm and analytical.

  Elara’s brows furrowed as she glanced at her mana status. Her eyes widened when she saw the numbers.

  Mana: 128/390

  She hadn’t been conservative with her mana usage, instead pouring it into the healing skill without restraint.

  Realization dawned on her as she calculated the mana she had used to close the wound: a staggering 262 points. The amount seemed excessive, and a twinge of uncertainty crept into her mind.

  As she pondered her mana usage, lost in thought, Darius’s voice broke through her contemplation. “You should try using less mana and heal for a longer duration,” he suggested, his tone gentle yet firm. “It would decrease the mana needed, and the wounds would heal more slowly, but it would be more efficient use of your mana.”

  She nodded, absorbing his advice. It made sense to regulate her mana flow and extend the healing process to conserve her resources. She had been so eager to test her abilities that she had overlooked the importance of efficiency.

  “I see,” she murmured, her mind already working on adjusting her technique. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

  He gave her a small smile at her response. He moved the sword at his side, then reached for something at his belt. Extending his hand, he waited for Elara to open hers before dropping five silver coins into her palm.

  “Your healing is worth 5 silver coins to me,” he said. “It’s not as effective as the other healer’s, but it will suffice.”

  She stared at the coins in her palm, their weight unfamiliar, her fingers instinctively curling around them.

  Darius leaned forward, his gaze intense. “But there’s one condition,” he added, his tone serious. “You heal no one else. This arrangement is exclusive between us.”

  Elara nodded, understanding the importance of their agreement.

  “I agree,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “I won’t heal anyone else.”

  He nodded, satisfied with her response. He leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly.

  She couldn’t help but smile, the joy of earning her first money on her own bubbling up inside her. It was a small step, but it felt significant. She had taken the first step to support herself.

  She tucked the coins into one of her satchels on her belt, aware of their weight against her side.

  She glanced at him, a sudden thought occurring to her. “Do you want me to heal you more?” she asked, her voice tentative. “I still have some mana left.”

  He looked at her, his brows lifting as his gaze lingered on her. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting to his previously healed hand. With a small nod, he relented and offered his hand to her.

  She carefully took his hand between her own, her fingers gently cradling his calloused palm. She closed her eyes, focusing on her healing skill once more. This time, she concentrated on regulating her mana flow, keeping the usage low and steady.

  A much softer, golden glow emanated from her hands. The mana trickling from her fingertips, into his skin. She imagined the healing energy mending the remaining damage, knitting together any lingering wounds.

  Darius remained still, his gaze fixed on the few people still roaming the camp at night. He didn’t look at her, his expression unreadable. But no one disturbed them, allowing her to focus solely on her healing touch.

  As the golden light faded, she opened her eyes and glanced at the system windows that showed up, a smile tugging at her lips as she saw the notification. Healing Touch has leveled up.

  She released his hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment. She had not only healed him, but also improved her own skill.

  His gaze went back to her as she smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. A sly smirk twisted his lips, and he raised an eyebrow. “Did your skill level increase?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

  Her smile faltered, surprised that he had called her out. She hadn’t expected him to be so perceptive. She hesitated for a moment before nodding sheepishly.

  Darius chuckled, the sound low. He leaned back, his posture relaxed.

  Elara’s cheeks warmed, and she glanced away, trying to hide her embarrassment. She hadn’t realized she was so transparent. Her eyes drifted to the ground, and she fidgeted with her fingers, feeling a little self-conscious.

  Darius seemed to appreciate the moment as silence filled the air between them. He watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  As the silence stretched on, her initial embarrassment faded. She peeked at Darius, her eyes meeting his.

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he spoke, his voice low and gentle. “I’ll find you again tomorrow,” he said, his words carrying a promise.

  She nodded, her heart fluttering at the thought of leveling her skill more. He stood up, his movements more fluid than when he first came. He gave her a small nod before turning to leave.

  Her eyes followed him as he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the camp. She couldn’t avoid a sense of anticipation, knowing that she would see him again the next day.

  She found herself alone once more. She looked down at her hands, still sensing his skin’s warmth against her fingertips. The healing session had been brief, but it had left a lasting impact on her. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.

  She glanced around the camp, noticing the few people still roaming about. The night had grown quieter, and the air had cooled, signaling that it was time for her to retire as well.

  Brushing off her clothes and gathering her belongings. She made her way back to her own resting place, her mind still replaying the events of the evening.