ITITPS 9

Chapter : 09

“…Yes. Let’s do that.”

The two continued a conversation I couldn’t make sense of.

Ilya stayed silent, but the quiet way he nodded made it clear that he understood what was going on.

In other words, Serena was deliberately hiding something about me—from me.

I forcibly swallowed down my curiosity that wanted to demand answers right away.

In the previous cycles, Serena only ever hid things from me when she herself wasn’t certain and didn’t want to burden me with needless anxiety.

If it wasn’t serious, I would hear about it after the examination.
If it was serious, she would give me a proper explanation—I trusted her to.

Because that’s the kind of person Serena was.

“Then first, I’ll have the two of you wait outside. Emma! Sorry, but could you escort His Grace the Grand Duke and the Tower Master out?”

“Of course, Lady Valenstein.”

The brown-haired priestess waiting outside bowed her head.

I’d noticed earlier—she showed no sign of being uncomfortable around Ilya at all. For an extra, she was a good one.

Clack.
Once the two vanished completely, only Mute and I remained in the room. With a tense look, he spoke.

“Then, Hero, please lie down over here for a moment. Ah, and remove your boots.”

The white bed wasn’t as soft as the one in Serena’s room. I lay down obediently, and my view shifted.

The moment Mute summoned divine power for the examination, Asha instantly lost consciousness.

There were people who fell asleep the moment they lay down, but this was closer to fainting than sleeping.

Had her tension simply snapped?
Mute, having heard Serena’s hypothesis, began retracing Asha’s small behaviors.

“She suspects destruction of the mana circuits.”

That was not a condition one commonly saw.

Even Mute, who had healed many severely ill patients as a high priest, had only ever encountered one such case.

And all he could do then was infuse holy power to prolong their life.

Mute shook away the unpleasant memory and placed his hands on Asha’s body.

All humans are born with mana circuits.
Mute spread his holy power thinly, searching every corner of her body to find them.

From fingertips and toes, slowly toward the center.
The more the holy power filled Asha’s circuits, the deeper Mute’s expression hardened at the nasty sensation returning to him.

“Impossible. Her entire circuitry is destroyed.”

Holy power that should have flowed smoothly instead bent, twisted—and leaked out of place.

It was vivid and horrifying, like feeling bones crushed into dust.

He had hoped it wasn’t true, but he could no longer deny it.
Asha’s condition was worse than the patient he’d seen before.

At minimum, a severe stage.
At this level, even ambient mana in the air would sometimes trigger attacks of pain.

Mute felt his breath catch.

She was already chosen as the Hero—favored by the Goddess, destined to kill the Demon King, mankind’s enemy.

That should have been the highest honor imaginable.
But if the Hero was in this condition…

“Ahh…”

Mute let out a sorrowful sigh.

One chosen by the Holy Sword shall slay the Demon King and bring light unto the world!

The prophecy delivered 500 years ago when the Empire was founded was accepted as undeniable truth—not only among humans, but demons as well.

And not once had the Goddess’s prophecy been wrong.

As long as Asha was the Holy Sword’s master, every demon would seek her death.

And mere proximity to mana-formed demons would inflict unimaginable agony, slowly killing the Hero.

For the savior of the world to face such a miserable death—what tragedy, what cosmic cruelty.

Mute lowered his head, solemn.

From his shining golden eyes fell crystal-clear tears, dripping onto Asha’s chest.

When I opened my eyes, the same white ceiling greeted me. Still Mute’s room—so the examination time must have been skipped.

In all 99 past loops, Chapter 3 ended quickly after being recognized as the Hero.
This newly added episode was clearly part of the special patch.

“…You may get up now, Lady Anastasia.”

Still dazed, I blinked, and a wet voice drifted to my ears.

I turned to Mute—his eyes were red and swollen as if he’d been bawling, his expression grief-stricken.

What on earth happened?

Expecting an explanation, I sat up. Just as I reached for my leather boots, Mute dropped to his knees before me.

“Y-Your Eminence Cardinal! Please rise! How could someone of your dignity kneel before someone like me!”

I hadn’t forgotten my role.

Acting the part of a low-self-esteem, abused former slave, I shot to my feet in flustered panic.

Mute clamped his lips shut, throat tight with emotion.

As his raw, rimmed eyes began to glisten again, I reflexively hit the screenshot key.

[Saved to device.]
[Saved to device.]
[Saved to device.]

[Screenshots of Les Jours deserte cannot be further altered. Please be advised.]

I sent them to the Mute folder in my gallery, suppressing the grin threatening to show.

I bit the inside of my cheek out of habit—only to realize I’d set my pain to zero.

In a game where injury and death came often, turning pain off was a shock-prevention safety measure…
But without pain—well…

“Oof.”

Self-harm risks require caution.

Calmly, I spat out the blood and torn flesh from my mouth into my hands.

Mute’s pupils trembled.

From my palms rose the strong scent of chocolate, not blood.

Smelled great—but wiping it on clothing would damage durability, and holding blood-slick hands just felt gross. I lifted my head toward the confused Mute.

“Um, could I get a handkerchi—”

Before I finished, the doors burst open.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was, heat rolling like a wave.

And the heavy footsteps beside her as well.

“Ana-stasia!”

“Asha!”

Serena’s fire-mage warmth suffused the room.

The cross-shaped sigil she concealed perfectly flickered and vanished, reacting to her emotions.

Serena clasped my blood-soaked hands.

Ignoring the mess staining her palms, she rounded her shoulders and bowed her head.

“Your Eminence. What happened?”

I couldn’t see past Serena blocking my view, but I heard it—
Ilya’s interrogating-but-not-interrogating tone, and Mute’s weary sigh.

“First, both of you calm down and sit. I’ll explain the diagnosis—to all of you, including Lady Anastasia.”

His voice was steady, but carried a commanding presence.

His clean, upright appearance and gentle youthful voice only reinforced the aura of a high priest beloved by the Goddess.

Reluctantly, Ilya and Serena sat on the chairs he had prepared.

While Serena wiped the blood from my hands and mouth with meticulous care, the room was silent as a grave.

Only the rustle of cloth against skin sounded.

“…Ha…”

Serena exhaled a low groan, as if choking back fury.

Across countless loops, she always reacted like this when I was hurt.

And even now—despite so much changing—that part hadn’t.

It’s a misunderstanding, but still touching…

No one in reality worries about me like this.

I’m not sad about it anymore, but I adore these Les Jours deserte characters who give me unwavering affection.

Smiling faintly, I squeezed Serena’s hands tight.

“Serena. I’m fine.”

Her eyes widened.
Of course—this was the first time I’d spoken casually in this loop.

Current affection: 62.

She wouldn’t reject my touch.

“…Asha.”

As expected, she used my nickname instead of my full name. I liked it much better.

“Ahem, Your Eminence. And Asha’s condition—how is it?”

Ilya, who had been staring at us—possibly jealous—cut in.
The tips of his ears peeking through his black hair were flushed red.

Such a big man acting like an awkward boy in love—adorable.

I chuckled softly and settled back into place, as he wanted.

“…I’ll be blunt.”

Mute spoke solemnly, and the three of us held our breath.
He hesitated, then said something I hadn’t imagined.

“The Tower Master was correct. Lady Anastasia suffers from the affliction that destroys mana circuits.”

“Excuse me—what?”

Ilya shot to his feet, shock breaking through his usual calm.

“The destruction of mana circuits? That means—”

“It is exactly what you think, Your Grace.”

Mute’s declaration weighed the room down.

Everyone sat horrified—everyone except the person concerned, who had no clue.

Destruction of mana circuits? Definitely new special-patch story.

Everything I knew about Les Jours deserte came strictly from the game.
Like learning imperial language from tooltips.

Maybe some dating sim somewhere had a hero party suffering chronic illness, but here, in this game—there were only battle wounds and death, not diseases.

Mute continued, heavy-voiced:

“There are almost no cases of destroyed mana circuits, and aside from the guess that the cause is severe physical or psychological trauma, we don’t know enough to name it.

The Temple cannot heal it. All we can do is prevent further damage by avoiding mana exposure.”

“That means—”

“Lady Anastasia is currently in a severe stage. She must have endured something terrible… for a long time.”

Mute wept genuine tears for suffering I didn’t even have.

His pale, straight fingers brushed my hand.

“Hero… how you can remain so composed—I can’t even imagine. I fear it’s rude to ask if you’re all right. But, but…”

He bowed his head, then lifted it—golden eyes glittering like jewels, damp with sorrow.

“Doesn’t it… hurt terribly…?”

It was a line drenched in emotion.

A choice window appeared.

【It doesn’t hurt.】
【I can endure it.】
【Don’t pity me.】

Ugh. Too good.