Episode 23
Lindsay just watched Aria greet her brightly and tried to figure out what was going on. Standing there like a spare, listening to the couple’s sweet talk made her forget why she was even here.
She swallowed the words that were bubbling up and waited for their conversation to end.
When Michael finished talking and turned his back to Aria, he stepped toward Lindsay.
Lindsay felt goosebumps as his face changed. How does he switch expressions so fast?
“You heard Raven got the request, right? The person to examine is the one you just met — avoid close contact.”
“How can I avoid contact? And you need to unseal this, too.”
Lindsay shook the hand with the mana-control cuff on it. This wasn’t a lie — diagnosing a mana-related illness usually meant sending some mana through the patient’s body. Michael, who’d searched info on mana deficiency for Aria, couldn’t be ignorant of that.
“Orca.”
One of the two men standing behind Aria stepped forward when called.
Even with her mana sealed, Lindsay could tell at a glance that this guy was a competent mage.
His shabby cloak, messy green hair, and slightly hunched back showed he’d probably holed up in a small room, obsessing over magic. If someone like him couldn’t do magic well, that’d be strange.
Orca — probably not realizing Lindsay was judging him — spoke up.
“Please tell me how to diagnose. I’ll do it instead.”
Ah, so that’s how he wanted to play it.
Lindsay admired his determination not to leave loose ends. Tenacious. Really tenacious.
“Then sit comfortably, okay? If a beginner does it, it’ll take a while.”
Orca checked Michael’s nod and set up a wooden chair away from the plush sofa. Lindsay wanted to sit on the soft couch, but ended up on the wooden chair and spoke up.
“Can I call you Orca?”
“As you like.”
“Okay. First, take the patient’s hand.”
You could see the embarrassment on the faces of the people who had to have their hands held. But what were they gonna do?
“Do it quickly. There’s a lot to check.”
Lindsay urged Orca on; he glanced at Michael and hurried. Her mouth curved up into a grin.
“Now from the right fingertip. Can you feel it? Then move to the shoulder.”
“…”
“Not at the shoulder? Hmm… try the left leg this time.”
Orca, sweating from holding Aria’s hand, finally asked, frustrated:
“…Is this really the right way to do it?”
Lindsay leaned back casually in the chair and swung a leg, answering,
“Try the right leg. You’ll feel something somewhere. Once you do, you’ll know why I told you to scan the body with mana.”
“You could at least tell me why…”
“Stop complaining and do it. What I can do in ten seconds might take you ages. If the amount is tiny, you could miss it, so be thorough.”
“You sure do brag a lot.”
Orca shot Lindsay a contemptuous look. He was an outstanding mage even in the Perdeus family basement, so he assumed Lindsay was talking out of ignorance.
Then a cold voice cut through their heated little argument.
“Orca. The test comes first.”
“My apologies, Your Grace.”
Just when the mood was about to freeze, a sunshiny voice smoothed things over.
“Michael, it’s okay. Take your time. Orca, don’t feel pressured.”
“No, miss. Are your hands uncomfortable?”
“It’s fine. They’re warm and nice.”
“I’m sorry, my skill isn’t enough…”
Lindsay snapped at Orca, who sounded full of guilt.
“Stop talking and focus on searching. We’ve been at this for ten minutes. I have a life to get back to, you know.”
Her feet in purple Mary Janes tapped up and down. She wanted to smash that mana cuff and get it over with, then go home.
She thought of the fox-like man and the lazy cat waiting at home.
Lindsay wasn’t the only one getting impatient. Michael finally asked the cloak-wearing woman a question he’d been holding back.
“What’s the connection between finding mana in Aria’s body and the dosage of the medicine?”
“Oh—now you’re curious?”
Someone who’d been asking questions for ten minutes without getting a meaningful answer was grinding their teeth. Lindsay laughed, looking at Orca and Michael, who didn’t like being laughed at. Then a cheerful voice filled the parlor.
“What do you think mana deficiency is?”
Michael, who had researched the condition more than anyone, answered.
“A congenital lack of mana that shortens lifespan.”
“That’s the surface answer. But why does having less mana shorten life? Non-magic people live fine without mana, right?”
Instead of giving a straight answer, Lindsay circled the point. Orca, annoyed, finally spoke.
“A recent hypothesis says a tiny amount of mana drains a person’s life force, but nothing’s been clearly proven.”
“Hmm. Not totally wrong, but you’re missing the key point. Why do mana-deficient patients use up their life energy? That’s the important question.”
Everyone fell silent, thinking hard — everyone except Lindsay.
Aria herself hadn’t thought about the cause either; she’d only complained about her illness until now.
After a pause, Lindsay clicked her tongue.
“You guys haven’t thought about that. If you want to fix a problem, you have to find the cause. That’s the most important thing. It’s a basic skill for a mage. Remember that.”
“So what’s the cause?”
Lindsay looked at Michael, who wanted an answer. His plan had been annoying, but since it wasn’t certain, maybe she’d let it slide.
She thought a moment, then spoke slowly.
“People with mana deficiency always have a tiny amount of mana concentrated somewhere in their body. That’s the problem. Mana that’s not evenly spread causes an imbalance in the body. To maintain homeostasis, the body borrows energy similar to mana, which is…”
“Life force.” Michael cut in.
“Right. But your friend’s lucky — she met me,” Michael added, smugly.
Being the heroine in a novel might count as luck, she thought.
Lindsay pictured the foolish man from the book who fell in love with Aria and chose death. If she hadn’t intervened, would Lionel have fallen for Aria like the story said?
Her gaze settled on Aria, who was fanning her flushed face. The color made her look alive — a good thing.
“You’d better watch your mouth. There are limits to how much I’ll let slide.”
Michael, who hadn’t criticized Lindsay’s rudeness until now, frowned hard and warned her. You could tell he was bothered.
“Fine. I won’t mention that part.”
Lindsay looked away from Aria, who had gone sulky at Michael’s sternness. Two people floundering at once was exhausting.
Silence settled over the parlor. In that quiet, some hid disappointment, some hid shy feelings behind cool faces. The observer who noticed all this quietly shut up.
“I found it!”
The silence broke as Orca shouted in joy. He’d been sending mana through Aria and suddenly got excited.
“I understand what you mean by ‘imbalance.’ It’s so clear…!”
He babbled excitedly like someone discovering the New World — Lindsay imagined Columbus making this face.
“Okay, what part and how much?” Lindsay asked.
“Just below the navel. About the size of a fingernail.”
A fingernail-sized amount — that’s tiny. The mana-boosting medicine Lindsay brought would be enough to treat Aria.
She pulled a small bottle filled with red liquid from her cloak.
