Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 154: The Saintess Who Speaks Directly To The Heart

The garden stretched out before Cassius, Lucius, and the senior maid, a breathtaking sight of vibrant blooms and meticulously sculpted hedges, the air thick with the sweet scent of roses and the hum of bees drifting lazily in the golden sunlight.

Roses climbed the vines in cascades of red and green, their petals catching the breeze, while neatly trimmed paths wound through beds of lavender and marigolds, the colors so vivid they seemed to pulse under the clear sky.

Yet, for all its beauty, the garden's splendor faded the moment their eyes feil on the girl seated at a simple wooden table beneath a shaded tree.

No flower, no pretty sky or artistry of landscaping could compete with her presence—she was a beacon, drawing every gaze with an effortless, radiant allure.

Lady Vivi Arwald sat there, her small, delicate frame bathed in dappled sunlight, her beauty so striking it stole Lucius's breath, even though he'd seen her multiple times before. He gasped softly, unable to help himself, and Cassius's usual smirk faltered for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took her in.

She had a face like a porcelain doll, heart-shaped and flawless, with wide, sparkling blue eyes that seemed to hold the sky itself. Her pale forehead peeked through soft fringes of dark hair that parted neatly to frame her face, curling gently at the ends.

Her lips, a delicate pink, curved into a warm, genuine smile that lit up the garden more than the sun ever could.

Her body was slender, almost fragile, her petite frame draped in a flowing white dress that made her look as if a single touch might shatter her or lift her into the air like a feather.

This was Vivi, Wayne's only daughter, Cassius's patient, the girl who'd been chained to her bed by iliness for most of her life, her spirit undimmed despite the weight of her suffering.

Lucius's mind flickered to past visits, when he'd accompanied Cassius to her bedside—Vivi pale and weak, her breaths shallow, her world confined to a dim room and a narrow mattress.

Her illness had robbed her of the outdoors, of movement, of the simple joys others took for granted.

Yet today, here she was, sitting upright in the garden, her cheeks kissed with a faint flush of health, her eyes bright with life.

The sight was nothing short of miraculous, and Lucius felt a swell of pride for his master's skill, though his attention quickly shifted to the pecullar scene unfolding before them.

Vivi wasn't alone. At the table, two children—a brother and sister, no older than eight or nine sat across from her, their faces scrunched in mutual indignation.

Behind them, rows of chairs were arranged in a semicircle, filled with an mix of people: young children clutching toys, elderly men and women with weathered faces, and adults of all ages, all commoners by their simple clothing, their eyes fixed on Vivi with a quiet, hopeful anticipation.

It looked like a makeshift audience, as if they were all waiting their turn to speak with her, and Lucius's brow furrowed, confusion tugging at him.

'What's going on? Why are they all here for her?' He wondered, glancing at Cassius, who watched with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

Bit before Lucius could voice his question, the children's voices rose, sharp and loud, cutting through the garden's calm.

"It's his fault, Lady Vivil" The older sister, a girl with pigtails and a scowl, declared, pointing at her brother. "He ate all my snacks—the ones Mama made for me for getting a good grade on my testl! He's a greedy pig, and I hate him!"

The boy, his hair a messy mop of brown curls, shot back, his face red with indignation.

"Y-You broke my toy horse, Lila! You smashed it just because I ate a few of your cookies! A-And because of that I-I don't wanna be your brother anymore—never ever!"

He crossed his arms, glaring at her, his lower lip trembling as if he might cry.

Lucius blinked, taken aback by the childish squabble, his lips twitching with amusement.

'They're complaining to her about this? Snacks and toys?'

He thought, unsure why such trivial matters warranted Vivi's attention—or why the crowd behind them watched so intently, as if this were a matter of grave importance.

He opened his mouth to whisper a question to the senior maid, but Vivi's response stopped him cold.

She leaned forward, her smile unwavering, her blue eyes sparkling with a warmth that seemed to wrap the children in an invisible embrace.

"Oh, my dears." She said, her voice soft but clear, carrying a cheerful optimism that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. "It sounds like you're both really upset, and that's okay—sometimes we get so mad we forget how much we care. But let's talk about this, hmm?"

"...Lila, you love those cookies, don't you? They're special because your mama made them out just for you knowing that they were your favourite, right?"

Lila nodded, her scowl softening slightly, though her arms stayed crossed.

"Yeah...They were mine. A-And he didn't even ask before he ate them all!"

Vivi's smile widened, her head tilting as she turned to the boy.

"And you, Toby, you love your toy horse, don't you? I bet you play with it all the time, imagining you're a brave knight galloping across the fields."

Toby's glare faltered, his eyes dropping to the table as he mumbled.

"Yeah...It was my favorite. She smashed it on the ground and it doesn't have a head anymore."

Vivi nodded, her expression gentle but attentive, as if their grievances were the most important thing in the world. "I hear you both, it hurts when something you love gets taken or broken. But you know what I think?...I think you didn't mean to hurt each other, not really."

"Lila, when Toby took your snacks, maybe he was just so hungry for something sweet, he forgot to ask....And Toby, when Lila broke your horse, maybe she was so upset about her snacks, she didn't know how to tell you how mad she felt and she did it out of a fit of rage."

"...Does that sound like it could be true?"

The children hesitated, glancing at each other, their stubbornness wavering under Vivi's calm, earnest gaze.

Lila bit her lip, her voice small. "Maybe...I was really mad. But I didn't mean to break it forever."

Toby sniffed, his shoulders slumping. "I...I didn't mean to eat all her snacks, I was just hungry. I wouldn't have eaten them all if I knew it was meant for her."

Vivi's laugh was soft, like a chime, and she reached out, resting a delicate hand on the table between them.

"See? You're already starting to understand each other. Being brother and sister—it's like being a team, you know? Sometimes you mess up, sometimes you fight, but deep down, you love each other so much."

"Lila, remember when Toby shared his blanket with you last winter when you were cold? And Toby, didn't Lila help you find your lost ball when you were crying?...You've done so many kind things for each other because you're family—and family sticks together, even when it's hard."

Her words wove a gentle spell, her positivity infectious, and the children's faces softened further, their anger melting into something vulnerable.

Lila's eyes glistened, her voice trembling. "I...I didn't wanna hurt you, Toby. I just got so mad. I'm sorry."

Toby's lip quivered, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry too, Lila. I shouldn't've taken your snacks. And...And I didn't mean it when I said I don't want you as my sister. I do—I love you."

The crowd behind them let out a collective sigh, some smiling, others dabbing at their eyes, as the siblings leaned across the table, hugging tightly, their small arms wrapped around each other.

Vivi also watched with a satisfied, radiant smile, her hands clasped together as if she'd just solved a grand puzzle.

"There we go." She said, her voice bright with pride. "You're such a wonderful brother and sister—look how strong you are when you talk it out!"

"...Now, how about you share some cakes that the maids have for you inside ? And maybe you can both fix that toy horse as a team when you get back home?"

Hearing this, they nodded eagerly, their tears replaced by shy smiles, and scampered off to join the crowd, still clutching each other's hands.

The onlookers clapped softly, their faces glowing with admiration, and Lucius stood frozen, his jaw slightly agape.

'She...She just turned a petty fight into that?'

He thought, marveling at how Vivi had transformed a childish spat into a moment of reconciliation, her cheerful wisdom cutting through their anger like a blade through fog.

Cassius, standing beside him, let out a low whistle, his smirk returning as he crossed his arms.

"Well, damn." He murmured, his voice low enough for only Lucius and the senior maid to hear. "She's got a gift, alright. Turning brats into best friends with a smile? That's some kind of magic."

Hearing this praise, the senior maid's eyes sparkled with pride as she watched her Lady Vivi, her voice swelling with affection as she continued.

"Of course, my lord, that's just how our Lady Vivi is. From the time she was a little girl, she's had this...gift, this special way of lifting anyone's spirits, no matter how dark their troubles. It's like she was born with it—a knack for finding the perfect words, wise beyond her years, and that pure, radiant cheerfulness of hers, that gentle smile that could melt the coldest heart."

"The maids here, we've all gone to her at one time or another—when we're worried, when we're down, when life feels too heavy. And let me tell you, a few moments with Vivi, a handful of words from her, and it's like the world rights itself."

"...You walk away with peace in your heart, as if her voice carries some kind of magic that heals the mind."

She then paused, her gaze softening as she looked at Vivi, who sat under the Lilac tree, her delicate frame glowing in the sunlight. "You know, Lady Vivi, she's better at hearing confessions than the saint at the church, so much so that everyone calls her the Saintess that speaks directly to the heart."

"People have told her about their worst tragedies—losses, betrayals, grief that could break anyone and somehow, she helps them forget the pain, helps them move forward...It's as if the gods, knowing they'd burden her with that terrible illness, gave her a mind so strong, so impossibly bright, to make up for it."

"...A gift to balance the scales, letting her heal others in a way no one else can."

Lucius nodded, his usual playful demeanor subdued as he absorbed her words, a quiet awe settling over him. He'd seen Vivi before, pale and frail in her bed, but this was new—her gift, her impact, laid bare in a way he hadn't fully grasped until now.

Cassius, standing beside him, already knew, his crimson eyes following the two children as they scampered off, their arms linked, their fight forgotten and in their place a middle-aged woman, her face lined with worry, took their place at Vivi's table, settling into the chair with a hesitant nod, as if it were her turn in some sacred ritual.

Cassius's smirk held, but there was a glint of something deeper in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or calculation as he watched the scene unfold.

The senior maid continued, her voice tinged with pride and wonder.

"Even as a child, Lady Vivi knew she had this gift. She saw how her mother, Lady Diane, saved lives as a doctor, stitching wounds, curing fevers, bringing people back from the brink and she wanted to do that too—to help others, to make a difference. But her illness kept her from the world, from hospitals, from the life her mother led...So she found her own way."

"When she was barely ten, she asked Lady Diane to set up a little box at the hospital—a place where people could drop letters, pouring out their worries, their fears, their heartaches. Lady Vivi would then receive the later on and read them, every single one, and write back with her own words, her own light, offering comfort, advice, hope."

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She smiled, a wistful edge to it as she recalled the memory.

"It started small—a few dozen letters a week, people curious about the sick girl who wanted to help. But word spread, and soon there were hundreds, crowding that little box until we had to replace it with a bigger one...People from all over—merchants, farmers, even nobles writing to her, spilling their souls because they'd heard her words could ease any pain."

"And Lady Vivi...gods, she was so weak some days she could barely hold a quill, but she refused to stop. Said she had to answer everyone who took the time to write, that it was her duty...She'd sit up all night, scribbling by candlelight, her hands trembling but her heart steady, crafting replies that made grown men weep and broken hearts mend."

Lucius's eyes widened, admiration and disbelief flickering across his face.

"Hundreds? And she answered all of them? In her condition?"

He murmured glancing at Vivi, who now listened intently to the middle-aged woman, her smile as warm and steady as ever.

The senior maid nodded, her voice thick with emotion.

"Every single one. When we asked her how she managed, how she didn't collapse under the weight of it, she just smiled that smile of hers, you know—and said she'd always idolized her mother, saying, 'Mother saves lives, but sadly I can't do that, not with my body like this...But this this is my way to help, to give people something to hold onto. I've found my purpose, and I'll follow it to the end, no matter how hard it is.' That's Lady Vivi—her heart's bigger than her sickness ever could be."

Lucius's gaze softened, his usual chatter silenced as he watched Vivi greet the woman with a graceful nod, her posture respectful yet open, as if she were welcoming an old friend.

'Brave doesn't even begin to cover it.' He thought, a pang of respect tightening his chest.

The senior maid's voice drew him back, her tone brightening as she gestured toward the crowd seated in the garden.

"Recently, since you've been treating her, my lord..." She said, nodding to Cassius. "...her illness has started to fade. She's stronger now, able to sit up, to come outside. And she realized she could do more than write letters—she could talk to people face-to-face."

"So last week, she started inviting anyone in the Holyfield Estate—commoners, nobles, children, grandparents, anyone with a worry or a fight or a weight on their mind to come here, to the garden. She sits with them, listens, helps them sort through it, no matter what it is."

"...A childish spat like you saw, or a deep trauma from years past—she takes it all on, with that same smile, that same heart."

Lucius's confusion cleared, replaced by a dawning realization as he glanced at the rows of people waiting patiently, their faces a mix of hope and trust.

"So that's what you meant..." He said, his voice low, almost reverent. "...when you said she's treating her own patients...She's not healing bodies like her mother, but hearts, minds—wounds no bandage can touch. She's using her words, her optimism, to fix what's broken inside them."

He paused, his mind turning over the idea, a spark of Intrigue lighting his eyes.

"That's...remarkable. It's a kind of treatment in its own right, isn't it? And it should have a name, something to mark it as special."

Cassius chuckled, a low, knowing sound as he crossed his arms, his gaze still fixed on Vivi.

"It does have a name, Lucius." He said, his tone casual but carrying a weight of certainty. "It's called therapy. Our little Vivi's gone and created her own branch of medicine in this world, without even knowing it—talking people through their pain, helping them heal what's in here."

He tapped his temple, his smirk widening as he caught the confusion on Lucius's and the senior maid's faces.

"What, you thought I only knew about herbs and bandages? I pay attention to more than just bodies."

Lucius blinked, his mouth opening to ask what therapy meant, but Cassius waved him off, his attention shifting back to Vivi.

"Let's hear what she's got to say next." He said, his voice low and curious as he took a step forward, moving quietly to avoid drawing her notice. "I wanna see this gift of hers up close."

Lucius and the senior maid exchanged a glance, then followed, their steps soft on the stone path as they approached the consultation that was going on, drawn by the gentle cadence of Vivi's voice as she began speaking to the woman seated before her...