Chapter 6
The emergency healing magic she had used had drained the last of her mana. As the man’s face once again turned deathly pale, Freya quickly ignited a fire using magic. Among the various spells she had mastered, the Fireball was one of them.
Crackle, crackle!
The thoroughly dried firewood burned briskly, emitting sharp snapping sounds. The air inside the hut gradually warmed. Once it felt sufficiently cozy, Freya propped the man into a sitting position and forcibly administered an antidote.
The effect was immediate.
“Cough! Cough!”
With violent coughing fits, the man vomited thick, pitch-black blood repeatedly. Then, as if regaining consciousness, he slowly lifted his head.
Deep violet eyes. A straight nose, neatly shaped lips, a firm jawline that suggested strong will, and black hair—all harmonized into a face so strikingly handsome it was almost unreal.
Wow. That’s… eye-opening. You could call this a masterpiece of the gods. If this man ever smiled, there would probably be a whole carriage full of women collapsing at his feet.
Unable to tear her eyes away from his good looks, Freya smiled faintly in satisfaction.
“Who… are you? Did you perhaps save me, my lady?”
At his words, Freya snapped out of her brief reverie and quickly composed herself.
“Yes. I was the one who saved you.”
“Where are your guards or attendants?”
It seemed he had mistaken her for a noble lady due to the high-quality riding attire she wore. Moreover, in this world’s common sense, it was unthinkable for a noblewoman to be alone in a place like this without guards or attendants. So even if she said she had saved him, he likely assumed she had done so through servants or escorts.
“I don’t have any. I’m alone. Due to certain circumstances, my guards and attendants are elsewhere. I was rushing down the mountain alone when I found you on the brink of death.”
“So you’re saying… you moved me here to this hut entirely by yourself?”
He asked with an expression that clearly said it was impossible.
“Yes. With a stretcher.”
She had no intention of mentioning her mana, so Freya quickly gave an explanation he could accept.
“I am deeply indebted to you. Thank you.”
The man bowed his head with precise courtesy.
“By the way, it seems you were the one who administered medicine to me… Are you perhaps a physician?”
She had almost said “apothecary,” but considering she might need to continue treating him, she quickly changed her answer.
“Yes.”
A doubtful expression appeared on his face.
“Why… do you not believe I’m a physician?”
Freya chuckled lightly.
“To be honest, yes. You look too young to be a doctor.”
It wasn’t just her youthful appearance. Her delicate, porcelain-like face and slender build made her look less like a physician and more like a sheltered noble lady who could barely take care of herself.
“Being young does not necessarily mean one lacks ability. Anyway, look at this. That should clear your doubts.”
Not wanting to waste time arguing further, Freya opened her bag wide and showed him its contents. Once he saw it, the man seemed to understand and said no more.
“Before continuing treatment as your physician, I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are the ones who shot you still in this mountain?”
In an instant, the man’s entire demeanor changed.
His previously calm expression turned cold and merciless. Not only his eyes, but his entire body radiated a dense, razor-sharp killing intent. It was so intense it made her skin tingle.
That kind of killing intent was not something formed by killing just one or two people. This man was someone with extensive real combat experience—whether from serving a master or from the battlefield.
For the sake of national stability, and for her own revenge in her past life, Freya had also eliminated many who were deemed enemies. Conversely, she had nearly been killed several times herself. Because of that, she was more sensitive to such killing intent than most.
“They are gone. I killed them all myself.”
“I see. That’s a relief. If any of them were still chasing you, the smoke would have made it difficult to even light a fire comfortably, among other complications.”
The woman continued to surprise him more and more. It was astonishing enough that a noblewoman was a physician, but she was also calculating things that only someone accustomed to life-and-death pursuits would even consider.
Looking at her with renewed curiosity, Zenon spoke again.
“Let me repeat myself—you can rest assured. They have been completely eliminated.”
“Understood. Then I’ll go down to the valley to fetch water. I need to boil it and sterilize the medical tools for removing the arrows.”
“I’ll come with you. It could be dangerous alone.”
“Can you even walk? The poison from the arrow must have caused necrosis in your thigh—it must be excruciating.”
In truth, it wasn’t just his thigh. His internal organs, the shoulder where another arrow had pierced him, his side where a spear had struck, and every place grazed by blades all throbbed with sharp, relentless pain.
But he could not allow a woman to go alone into a forest full of wild beasts. Their senses became even sharper in the dark, and outside the window, it was already nearing night.
“Probably not. So set aside your chivalry for now and wait here quietly. I’ll return as quickly as possible.”
“Then take this knife for protection, in case you encounter wild beasts.”
The man removed a dagger from his left ankle and handed it to Freya. She already had her own dagger. Not just that—she also carried various concealed weapons in the inner pockets of her wide belt.
She was about to refuse, but not wanting to argue further, she silently accepted it.
When she returned with a metal container filled with water, using it in place of a pot, the man was lying face down, looking exhausted.
As he tried to sit up upon her arrival, Freya stopped him with a hand gesture.
“It will take a while to boil the water, so stay like that. Or, if you prefer, you can take off your clothes now—they’ll need to be removed anyway for treatment.”
“Do I really have to take them off?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can simply cut away the fabric around the wounds where the arrows are lodged and where you were cut.”
After speaking, Freya immediately began boiling water and sterilizing the medical instruments. Once everything was ready, she approached the bed.
The man was lying face down, wearing only his underpants.
Wow.
Freya couldn’t help but admire inwardly. She had expected a knight’s body to be well-built—but this was beyond that. His skeletal structure itself looked perfectly aligned, like a sculpted mannequin, and the muscles covering it were firm and solid, like steel.
If there was one flaw, it was the numerous small scars scattered across his side and back. And now, more scars would be added to that body. Thinking this, Freya clicked her tongue inwardly.
“Drink this. It’s a sleeping potion.”
After finishing her brief admiration of his physique, she offered him the vial.
“Is there a reason I must take a sleeping potion?”
He asked reluctantly, clearly displeased.
“You won’t be able to endure the pain in your right mind.”
She had not anticipated this situation and therefore had not brought any local anesthetics or painkillers.
“I can endure it. I will not take it.”
His tone was firm—clearly refusing further discussion.
“Then do as you wish. I can’t force a patient who refuses. But don’t regret it later. If you end up screaming and crying from the pain, don’t blame me.”
At Freya’s teasing remark, the man let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.
