Just another usual day at the Gleaming Veil Church.
A deep red liquid bubbled gently inside a large brewing pot. The faint scent of Bitterroot and Frostmint leaf clung to the air, steam curling into the morning light that spilled through tall stained-glass windows.
A honey-blonde priestess stirred a deep red liquid in a large copper cauldron, her motions practiced and precise. With her free hand, reached for the final bottle on the table without taking her eyes off the simmering mixture. The fluid inside shimmered with a faint blue sheen. She uncorked it with practiced ease and poured it in, stirring with the long glass rod until the potion in the pot began to shift—its hue gradually fading from crimson to a soft plum-purple.
- "That's the last batch for the day…" she murmured to herself with a sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, we've run out of Mirthleaf and Azure Hare anyway…"
The pot let out a final hiss before settling. She let out a long breath and stepped back.
Serenya Lysveil, vice chief alchemist and priestess of the Gleaming Veil Church, let out a long sigh. Her promotion to vice chief had come swiftly—only five years after her initiation—but it came with burdens. Today, like every other day, she had worked since sunrise to ensure the Church's potion stores remained stocked. Yet no matter how many times the Church petitioned the Adventurer's Guild, herb-gathering requests continued to be neglected.
She glanced toward the near-empty herb cabinets and frowned. If no one accepted the Church's gathering commissions by tomorrow, she and her fellow priestesses would have to collect the herbs themselves.
With little hope but unwilling to sit idle, Serenya slipped off her alchemist's apron, gathered her official robes, and decided to pay the Guild a visit herself.
The guild hall bustled with noise—adventurers shouting over one another, laughter echoing near the job boards, and armor clinking as brawny figures walked past. Serenya, composed but tired, approached the front desk.
- "Ah, Sister Serenya," Mina greeted politely. "We haven't seen you in a while."
- "I wish I could say this visit was purely social," Serenya replied with a weary smile. "But we've had little to no response on our recent requests. The Church's stock is near empty. Even with the reward increased, no one is accepting our herbal gathering missions?"
- "I understand, Sister, but it's not something I can force," Mina grimaced. "The guild can't compel adventurers to take your request. I've filed the complaints, truly… but most adventurers prefer combat-based quests. They think herb gathering is beneath their skill level".
Just then, footsteps approached behind her.
- "Excuse me," came a calm voice—deep, confident, but not arrogant.
She turned around.
A man with silver-streaked black hair and a calm, piercing gaze stood there, accompanied by a tall, broad-shouldered Lizardman with deep green scales and a warrior's bearing. Both carried large sacks—three in total, bundled with care and tied tightly with hemp rope, the scent of fresh herbs wafting faintly from within.
- "These are for the herbal request posted by the Church of Gleaming Veil, correct?"
Serenya blinked. It took her a moment to adjust to the directness.
- "Ah… yes, that's right," she replied, regaining composure quickly. Did they overhear our conversation?
The man gently placed the bundles on the table. She peeked inside, her eyes widening—perfectly picked Mirthleaf, Azure Hare, and even a few rare Frostmint. All fresh. All expertly harvested.
- "You completed the gathering? All of it?" she asked, astonishment cracking through her calm expression. Then, quickly composing herself, she smiled and bowed slightly. "Thank the gods… we've been short on potions for weeks. I'm Sister Serenya Lysveil. Please—allow me to invite you both to the church tomorrow. We'd like to thank you properly."
- "We'll be there." - The man inclined his head politely.
She turned to Mina.
- "Then Miss Mina, please have these packed into barrels. I'll send someone to retrieve them shortly."
As Serenya walked to the guild's exit, she looked back at the two unusual adventurers. Something in her urged her to memorize their faces—the calm dignity of the man and the silent but noble presence of his companion. If not for them, she would've had to walk the forests herself.
Back at the Church, Serenya stood in the softly lit study chamber, the air carrying a faint trace of incense and dried herbs. Across the polished oaken desk sat Head Priestess Thalira Merrowyn—a tall, silver-haired woman with an ageless elegance, her amber eyes sharp behind a pair of crystal lenses. She exuded calm authority, her mere presence enough to quiet even the most flustered novices.
Serenya presented the parchment scroll with the herb tally, along with a brief report of her visit to the Guild.
- "We managed to secure enough Mirthleaf and Azure Hare for at least a month's worth of potions. The collection was... unexpectedly fulfilled."
- "Unexpectedly?" - Thalira arched an eyebrow.
- "Yes," Serenya nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. "While I was at the Guild asking about the unfulfilled gathering requests, a pair of adventurers approached and delivered the herbs themselves. All precisely picked, too. Fresh, undamaged, and bundled properly—not the usual haphazard clumps we sometimes get."
Thalira leaned back in her chair, lips pursed in thought.
- "And no guild handlers were involved?"
- "None that I saw. It seemed they accepted the Church's request just recently. They even arrived just as I was speaking with the receptionist—almost like fate," Serenya allowed herself a small smile.
The Head Priestess let out a quiet hum, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk.
- "So, even now, there are those who act not for fame or gold alone. You said they were adventurers?"
- "Yes." - Serenya nodded again. - "One of them—a man—spoke on their behalf. Calm, respectful… unusual for adventurers. The other was a Lizardman, large and quiet. Both showed proper manners, and neither asked for a reward."
Thalira's expression softened, though her posture remained perfectly upright.
- "A rare breed, then. Especially in these times."
She rose gracefully from her chair and walked to the tall window overlooking the courtyard, her hands folded before her.
- "Make sure they know the Church recognizes such efforts, Serenya. In a world filled with indifference, small acts of sincerity must not go unnoticed."
- "I was planning to invite them to the Church tomorrow, formally," Serenya said. "They deserve more than a passing thank-you."
Thalira turned, her gaze gentler now.
- "Then do so, and ensure their visit is warm. Offer them rest, a tour, and... perhaps more, if they show continued sincerity. It may be time the Church extended its reach beyond walls and robes."
- "Yes, Head Priestess," Serenya bowed slightly. "I'll see to it personally."
The next day, Serenya waited at the Church gate. She'd given instructions to her apprentices in the alchemy lab, but her thoughts kept drifting to today's visit. She didn't expect adventurers to be punctual, yet when the gate guard announced their arrival, they were early.
And there they were, arrived not only on time, but slightly early. She greeted them with a warm smile and introduced herself again, this time with robes freshly pressed and an air of quiet formality.
- "Welcome to the Gleaming Veil," she said, then paused.
They bowed in return—not a casual wave or smirk, but a proper, formal greeting. Unusual for adventurers.
- "Thank you for inviting us to the Church. I have not introduced myself properly yesterday. My name is Kazama Jin E rank adventurer, and here is Sir Lyrderu Numshi – a Lizardman a C rank"
Especially…Jin.
There was something odd about him. Not in a bad way—no, quite the opposite. He was quiet, observant, respectful. And yet his eyes… they held a depth she rarely saw, even in the clergy.
As she guided them through the halls, past sacred murals and healing wards, Jin continued to ask small but precise questions. He stopped briefly beneath a high archway.
- "This ceiling," he said, tilting his head. "I've never seen glasswork like this in any other building, especially up the ceiling like this. Was it built recently?"
- "No…" – as embarrassed as it can be, still, Serenya answered – "actually, it's already here long before I joined as a clergy…"
'No visitors—or even some clergy—ever paid attention to the ceiling detail' – she then thought stealing a glance at him - 'He's… interesting'
By the time they reached the alchemy chamber, Serenya found herself already intrigued by the man who defied every adventurer stereotype she knew. Inside the alchemy lab, Serenya was prepared to show them basic brewing—but then he offered to demonstrate instead.
- "You've brewed potions before?" she asked in disbelief as Jin swiftly sorted tools.
- "I've tried a few mixtures," he replied casually, already adjusting the flame under the pot. His hands moved with steady precision, the methodical ease of someone who wasn't just dabbling.
She watched.
Precise hand movements. Exact timing. Fluid coordination. There were no wasted steps. The potion brewed smoothly under his guidance, and even the temperature was managed without error.
Her heart skipped.
- "He said he's done this before?" she thought, stunned. "No… that was no amateur's work."
After the demonstration, she found herself searching for the proper way to reward him. And then, the idea trucked her.
She reached into her robe and placed a hand over her pendant.
- "…Would you consider learning a healing spell from me?" she asked, carefully. "If you're staying in Willowshade for a while, that is."
Jin didn't hesitate.
- "I would be honored," he replied.
And for the first time in days, Serenya felt… genuinely elated.
That night, long after the halls fell silent, she sat at her desk, parchment scattered before her.
- "How do I even begin to teach Heal to someone like him?" she murmured, eyes tired but mind racing. "The Church's teachings won't suit him… I'll need to restructure everything. Simpler. Clearer. More instinctive…"
A part of her—a small, vulnerable part—wondered why she was putting in so much effort. Why she cared so much.
She brushed the thought aside.
It was probably nothing.
Still, when the next morning came and Jin arrived—early again—Serenya found herself standing a little straighter.
And smiling just a little more than usual.
It had been a quiet morning at the Church, the sun barely peeking through the stained glass as Serenya Lysveil stood before the gates, waiting. She wasn't nervous—at least, that's what she told herself. The gentle breeze brushed past her robes, carrying the faint scent of crushed herbs from the alchemical wing. Everything was prepared: the books, the potions, even the simplified lesson structure tailored for someone outside the clergy.
Then, he came.
Jin, the silver-streaked man with that calm, unreadable gaze and gentle politeness. Always on time. Slightly early today, in fact. He greeted her with that familiar half-smile, a quiet sort of respect in his eyes.
- "Good morning, Sister Serenya," he said with a light bow.
- "Good morning, Jin," she returned the gesture, noting the slight wear in his steps. Training, perhaps? He always moved like someone used to discipline. She led him through the marble corridors of the church once more, into the modest classroom-lab they'd arranged for his studies.
The first day had been simple—foundational. She explained the theory behind divine mana, how healing was not merely mending wounds but understanding the very rhythm of life. He listened intently, never interrupting, his questions surprisingly thoughtful.
That day, it took him more than 10 mins to heal one patient. It could be called fast but…not unexpected.
But what struck Serenya wasn't the speed—it was how calm he was about it. No frustration, no complaints. Just a nod, and a soft, "I see. I'll try again tomorrow."
The days passed.
By the fifth day, Serenya found herself unconsciously preparing a second cup of tea for him. By the seventh, she was looking forward to their quiet conversations after each lesson. He never spoke much of his past or his goals, but everything about him—his focus, his sincerity—was oddly soothing.
There was one moment—on the sixth day—when he adjusted his breathing according to the rhythm she suggested, and for a fleeting second, she felt a shift in the air around him. He looked at her then, and she felt the words caught in her throat.
- "You're improving steadily," she managed to say.
He simply nodded, humble, grounded. But the way his eyes lit up—it made her chest feel lighter.
By the ninth day, her apprentices whispered in the halls.
- "Is Sister Serenya… smiling more lately?"
Serenya brushed it off, but inwardly, she knew they weren't wrong.
Finally on the tenth day, he finally succeeded.
It was a minor wound. A young man had been brought in, his thigh slashed by a woodcutter's axe. Nothing fatal, but urgent. Serenya was about to prepare her usual cast, but Jin stepped forward.
- "May I try?"
She hesitated. It wasn't the time for practice… but something in his voice made her nod.
He placed his hand gently on the wound, whispered something to the hunter, and for the first time—light gathered in his palm softer – warmer – a true Healing light.
The wound closed as soon as the light shined upon it.
The man gasped.
Serenya didn't move. She was staring at Jin, her lips parted slightly, eyes wide.
He turned to look at her—and in that moment, something inside her trembled.
He looked… relieved. No, more than that—he looked toward her, as if waiting for her approval. Her joy. And she gave it, unable to hold back the smile blooming on her face.
- "Well done," she whispered.
And then, without thinking, she stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.
- "You're finally a healer".
He looked down at her hand, then back up—and smiled.
Her heart skipped.
Later that evening, after they'd shared tea in the quiet garden behind the church, Serenya raised her cup.
- "Congratulations, Jin. You've truly learned Heal. And… thank you. For trusting me."
Jin gave a soft chuckle.
- "You made it easier than I thought. I've had many teachers. But none like you."
Serenya smiled, her fingers curling around the warm porcelain.
That night, long after he had left, Serenya sat at her desk, quill unmoving over parchment. She couldn't focus on her notes. Her thoughts kept returning to that light, that silence moment when he and she watching the stars over some tea, and his eyes.
It was strange.
Sweet.
And somewhere deep within her, an unfamiliar thought lingered:
Wherever he walks next… may I walk beside him, even if only in silence.
As if some part of her—deep, quiet, and long asleep—was beginning to stir again.