The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 37: “Ugh! Hngh! Damn…”

When morning arrived, everyone had already gathered in the Sacred Chamber, the heart of the temple. The space was wide and solemn, with incense lingering in the air and faint sunlight passing through narrow stained-glass windows, casting soft gold and ivory light across the marble floor.

At the center stood the statue of Mirath, Goddess of Healing which were carved from white stone. Her expression was calm and distant along with her hands stretched toward the people. There was also a sculpted golden robe draped over her figure, and her sacred name was engraved into the altar beneath her feet.

The chamber was quiet and heavy with anticipation, as if the goddess herself were watching, waiting for the ritual to begin.

The High Priest stood at the forefront, accompanied by the bishops and priests, all dressed in ceremonial robes as they prepared for the ritual. Surrounding them were the loyal believers of Mirath, gathered in solemn silence.

While the Holy Knights were notably absent from the chamber, stationed instead outside the temple to guard the grounds and prevent any intrusion during the sacred rite.

The healers were positioned at the center of the chamber, standing within a carefully drawn mana circle that’s glowing faintly green with its light pulsing gently beneath their feet. Behind them, the nobles were seated in orderly rows, observing in composed restraint with their attention fixed on the preparations unfolding before them.

Despite the calm and reverent atmosphere, Alaric was growing increasingly impatient as the healer representing his noble house had yet to arrive, and with the ritual set to begin in less than an hour, his unease deepened with every passing moment.

’Where the hell is that commoner?’ Alaric thought as he fidgeted in his seat, letting out a quiet sigh. ’Damn it. I should’ve reminded him of his obligations last night.’

And that sigh didn’t go unnoticed.

"Hm, do you think he ran away?" Cael murmured beside him, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in slightly. "He must’ve been terrified."

Alaric turned his head sharply toward him, catching the faint whispers of nearby nobles reacting to their presence.

"Well, what was I even expecting?" Alaric muttered, shaking his head. "Does this mean I won’t have a healer under my name now? Hah..."

There was still an hour before the ritual began, but his patience had reached its limit. Rising from his seat, Alaric adjusted his cloak, clearly intent on leaving the chamber.

"Are you going to find him?" Cael asked. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"That’s right, Your Highness," Alaric replied curtly, taking a step forward only to stop when Cael spoke again.

"Hm. That’s not like you. What changed?"

"Don’t misunderstand," Alaric said without turning back. "I’m doing this for my own sake. Not for that brat."

"Brat?" Cael chuckled. "Come on, he’s older than you."

Alaric clicked his tongue. "Right. Anyway, I’m leaving, Your Highness."

"Pfft. Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing you," Cael said, rising as well. "Want me to come with you?"

"Do whatever you want."

As they made their way toward the exit of the Sacred Chamber, Caelius remained where he was, standing within the faintly glowing mana circle. His expression did not change, yet his gaze followed them closely, eyes lingering on their retreating figures until they disappeared from view.

Though his posture stayed composed and proper, there was a quiet sharpness in his stare, as if he were already calculating what their departure might mean.

Meanwhile, far from the sanctity of the chamber, Soren lay confined inside an unused room deep within the temple. His body was bruised and bloodied, bearing the marks of relentless beating that had lasted throughout the night.

Each time exhaustion claimed him even after as he slipped into unconsciousness, cold water was thrown over him without mercy, forcing him awake only to endure it all over again.

’Ugh... what time is it...’ Soren thought weakly as he stirred. ’Please... don’t tell me the ritual has already started...’

Then he forced his eyes open, his vision swimming as the room tilted around him. The dim light made his head throb, and it took a moment before he realized something was wrong. Looking down slowly, his breath hitched.

The restraints were gone but so were his clothes.

His bare skin was covered in bruises, deep shades of red and purple mottling his arms, shoulders, and torso. Though he couldn’t feel the pain, the sight alone was enough to make his chest tighten and his stomach churn.

Every mark and swelling was a brutal reminder of the night’s relentless beating, of how completely helpless he had been. He curled slightly in on himself, instinctively trying to shield what little dignity he had left with his throat tightening with shame and apprehension

Until a voice shattered the quiet.

"Well, awake now?" it sneered. Footsteps approached slowly, echoing in the small, empty room. "Do you remember me, slut?"

Soren’s body stiffened, not from pain but from raw dread along with his pulse spiking as a cold, sinking fear settled deep in his chest.

The man loomed over him now, filling the small room with a presence that was impossible to ignore. Bald-headed with a large, protruding stomach and a thick, hairy chest, hands, shoulders, and even feet, he radiated both dominance and menace.

The robe he wore meant for the Goddess Mirath herself hung heavy over his frame, an unsettling mockery of sanctity that only made him appear more grotesque in the flickering light.

He looked down at Soren with a smirk that made the air seem tighter, his eyes glinting with something dark and hungry. He licked his lips slowly, as if savoring a forbidden prize, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Even from where he stood, the shadow that he cast swallowed Soren, pressing him into the floor, shrinking him under the weight of the man’s sheer presence. Every movement and gaze from the man carried a sense of possession, as though Soren were nothing more than a treasure to be claimed.

Soren’s chest tightened not from pain, but from a raw, suffocating fear. The air around him felt thick, oppressive, and impossibly close as he could do nothing but stare up at the looming figure, trapped beneath both shadow and lustful intent while hugging himself.

"You’re still as scrumptious as ever. Did you miss me? Because I missed you. After everything good I’ve done for you, how could you run away from me? Aren’t you satisfied yet? Hmm, let me take a look at you." The bald man crouched down and grabbed Soren’s legs, exposing Soren’s genitals.

He even rubbed Soren’s bottom, causing Soren to widen his eyes and kick the man.

"Stay away from me!"

Soren shrank back into the corner, curling his arms tightly around himself as if his own body could shield him from what was coming as the memories he had buried deep flooded his mind unbidden. The echoes of past abuse, though long ago, surged up with terrifying clarity, triggered by the same lustful expression and mocking smirk that had haunted his nightmares for years.

His chest tightened and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.

And there came an instinct to flee, hide and disappear, but there was nowhere to go. The cruel reality of the room pressed down on him was entirely at the mercy of the man in front of him.

And he knew it.

Who would even try to save him?

He was just a nobody.

A freak.

From the shadows, others in the room began to snicker softly at his obvious desperation. Their laughter, light as it seemed, cut through him like a blade, amplifying the shame he felt for even being afraid despite trying his best to appear strong and composed all his life.

The combination of past trauma and present humiliation left him trembling, isolated, and painfully aware of just how powerless he truly was.

"Come on, you’re really making this difficult for us. Do you know how happy I was to see you enter the temple with Duke Davenmore and His Highness?" The bald man smirked as he glanced at the three men. They held Soren flat on his back and spread his body.

"Ugh, let go of me!"

"Wow, his skin is so soft." One guy touched his shoulders, but Soren tried hard to wriggle away.

"Look at how flawless his skin was."

"Ugh, let go! Let go of me, you pervert! Bastards!" Soren screamed, struggling against them but despite his efforts, the men continued to harass him, laughing and pressing him down.

Tears ran down his face, but in the chaos of fear and humiliation, his thoughts clung desperately to something pure with his mother’s warm smile in his memory and Elias’ comforting voice as his only anchor in the terror surrounding him.

"Ugh! Hngh! Damn..." Soren struggled weakly, feeling the men pressing him from all sides, their jeers and laughter echoing in the small room.

Just as he began to lose himself in panic, a sudden commotion outside caught everyone’s attention. The men froze with their actions abruptly halted, leaving Soren gasping and trembling, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

When the door opened, both Alaric and Cael were surprised to see what was in front of them.

"W-what the... You... Who are you to just barge in here?" one of the men stepped directly toward Alaric and Cael. The bald man, realizing who they were, quickly put on his clothes properly, but in his panic, he didn’t warn the man attacking them.

For the first time in his state of helplessness, Soren simply sat back on his own, his eyes blank and distant. Then he just reached for his clothes, which had been left in the corner, wiped himself down, and put the robe back on.

When he looked at Alaric, his gaze was empty, lifeless, as if nothing had happened.

Cael, meanwhile, walked toward Soren, blocking his view of Alaric.

"Hmm, you’re in quite a bad shape. I don’t think you’ll be able to attend the ritual. How about attending an execution instead?" Cael smirked as he looked down at Soren’s bruised face, but made no move to help when Soren suddenly staggered and collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

"Well, that’s it. I’m glad someone told us his location before it was too late," Cael said, smirking again.

He then turned toward the bald man and the three others, who were now groveling in fear while the Holy Knights who were brought by Cael and Alaric stood behind them, ready to enforce order.

Alaric, meanwhile, remained fixed on Soren’s body lying on the ground.

"Hmm... now, what should I do with you?" Cael murmured with a full, eager smile spreading across his face, as if something exciting was about to unfold.