Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?
Chapter 42: Celebration

Chapter 42: Celebration

Eldwood had never felt so alive.

Lanterns burned along the rooftops, casting a warm glow over the village square, where tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, bowls of glowing Solberries, and jugs of honey-wine.

Children ran through the torchlit streets, their laughter mingling with the strums of a lute, while soldiers—bandaged, weary, their armor patched—sat among the villagers, laughing through their exhaustion, mugs clinking in toasts to survival.

The air was thick with the scent of food and fire, a stark contrast to the blood and ash of the Pale Citadel.

Leon stood near the central fire, a mug of honey-wine in one hand, his tattered black and crimson tunic replaced with a fresh linen shirt, loose but clinging to his sweat-damp frame.

He watched the chaos unfold—dancers spinning, couples embracing, a child weaving a garland of flowers—his heart full but his body heavy, his magic a faint pulse after days of healing.

For once, there was no screaming.

No bleeding.

Just music and dancing.

The mayor of Eldwood, an old man with a thick beard and eyes damp with emotion, climbed onto a barrel, his voice rising over the din.

"We owe this peace to many brave souls," he said, his words steady but trembling. "But none more than our healer—Leon!"

A roar of cheers erupted, mugs raised, voices shouting his name.

Leon blinked, stunned, as the crowd turned toward him, hands clapping his back, smiles wide with gratitude.

A young girl draped a garland of starbloom over his shoulders, its faint glow brushing his skin.

Tila appeared at his side, her brown eyes bright, her cheeks flushed as she leaned in and kissed his cheek, soft and fleeting, her shy smile glowing.

"You deserve this," she whispered, her torn tunic replaced with a fresh one, her shortbow slung across her back.

Terya sauntered over, a mug in hand, her blonde hair loose, her leather top patched but still hugging her curves.

She handed him a drink, her green eyes glinting with mischief, and pulled him into a dance, spinning him with a laugh that echoed over the music.

"Hero," she teased, her voice warm, her hips swaying against his. "Savior. And now... terrible dancer."

"I’m doing my best," Leon laughed, his steps clumsy but his grin wide, the wine loosening his nerves.

"I know" she smirked, her lips brushing his in a quick, teasing kiss before she slipped back into the crowd, her laughter trailing behind.

As the night deepened, stars dotting the sky, the firelight shimmered across the square, casting shadows that danced with the revelry.

Leon leaned against a wall, half-drunk, his mug empty, watching couples drift into laughter and embraces, the village alive with hope.

He didn’t notice Saria until she was right in front of him, her presence quiet but commanding.

She wore a long-sleeved linen wrap, her black hair unbraided, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed from honey-wine.

Her dark eyes were softer than he’d ever seen, and she was smiling—actually smiling, a warm, unguarded curve that made his breath catch. Saria never smiled like that.

"There you are," she said, her voice looser, warm, the wine softening her usual stoic edge. "I’ve been looking."

Leon straightened, his heart skipping, his grin shy. "You okay?"

"You’re the one who should be asked that," she murmured, stepping closer, her body swaying ever so slightly, her scent—earthy, smoky, with an undertone of something sweet—filling the air, surrounding him like a spell.

"You saved me. Twice. You saved Terya. You saved all of us."

"I—" Leon began, his voice thick, trapped somewhere between the words he wanted to say and the emotion pressing against his ribs.

He struggled to find himself in the wake of her intensity.

But she didn’t give him the chance.

A finger, soft and delicate, pressed gently to his lips, her touch warm, silencing him without effort.

"Don’t speak," she whispered, her voice low, steady despite the tremor in her gaze. "Just listen."

Her eyes, dark and gleaming with something between intoxication and emotion, met his, a flush painting her cheeks as she spoke.

"You’re a healer. You are supposed to be a bad bad bad.... bad healer," she continued, her voice a soft melody, a rhythm that felt like it belonged to the space between them, "But you’ve done more for this village than any knight or mage. You stood when others crumbled. You held me together when I didn’t even know how to stand. You kept going when all I wanted to do was break."

Her breath, warm and fragrant, brushed against his face as she stepped closer.

Her forehead rested against his, their closeness enough to make the world outside seem like a distant dream.

His chest tightened.

His heart pounded in a way he hadn’t known was possible.

"You’re a better hero than anyone I’ve ever known."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy, powerful, reverberating through him like the hum of a song.

His throat tightened, a sting in his eyes, her trust and admiration carving something raw and tender deep inside him.

He couldn’t speak.

He didn’t have the words.

His heart was full in a way it had never been before.

And in that overwhelming silence, in the space where every unsaid thing swelled between them, she leaned forward.

Her lips touched his—slow, soft, like a dream half-remembered.

There was no rush, no fire, just a warmth, a gentle tenderness, an invitation to something deeper, something more than both of them understood.

Her lips tasted faintly of honey-wine, sweet and intoxicating. Her breath was a kiss itself, a soft exhale against his skin.

She cupped his face in her hands, the touch almost reverent, as if he were something sacred. The world fell away.

His mind spun.

Time didn’t exist.

It was just her.

Just this.

Her warmth, her breath, the delicate pressure of her mouth against his—every sense overwhelmed by her presence.

When she pulled back, it was like stepping out of a dream.

Her smile lingered, soft and knowing, her dark eyes burning with a hunger he hadn’t seen before.

"Come with me," she murmured, her voice low, intimate, a sound that seemed to vibrate between them, pulling him closer.