The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Cross estate's guest room, painting soft gold over fine sheets and a traveling satchel propped neatly near the door. Clarisse Cross — healer, noble, and aunt to the young prodigy Baker — stretched quietly, stifling a yawn. Her long auburn hair was only half-tamed, and her posture far too relaxed for a woman of noble birth.
She glanced toward her mirror and sighed.
"Four months every year on the road, and I still can't break the habit of slouching," she muttered.
Her head maid, a silver-haired woman named Meryl, adjusted the white-and-gold scarf hanging over Clarisse's shoulders — the Healer's Scarf, marked at both ends with the sigil of the Healing God, Althea.
"My lady, perhaps you could refrain from such… common speech while in the manor?" Meryl said delicately.
Clarisse smiled sheepishly. "I know, I know. I'm supposed to be the refined noble aunt visiting her brilliant nephew. But honestly, maintaining that noble poise all day is such a pain."
Meryl raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you'll be expected to dine with Lady Ventis and her son shortly after breakfast. Do try to remember which fork to use this time."
Clarisse chuckled, tying her hair up and checking her travel pouch. "Right. The left fork for bread, right fork for salad, middle one for pretending I know what I'm doing."
The maid sighed. "Hopeless."
---
Clarisse had always been the unorthodox one in her family. Though noble-born, she had chosen the path of a healer rather than a political match. For twenty years, all recognized healers were required to take part in The Wandering Mandate — traveling four months every year to temples, healing commoners free of charge.
Clarisse had just finished her final year of pilgrimage. Her golden scarf — worn from countless washes and battles with the elements — still shone faintly with divine energy. Around her wrist glimmered a small silver band engraved with Healer's Endurance, her awakened skill. It allowed her to reduce the mana cost of all healing spells by nearly half — a boon she had earned through exhaustion, compassion, and persistence.
Now, she was finally free to return to family life — or, at least, to meet the nephew she'd only heard stories about.
"Do you think he'll be shy?" she asked, glancing at Meryl as they walked through the courtyard.
"I've heard he's studious and polite," Meryl replied. "But I imagine he's as curious about you as you are about him."
Clarisse smirked. "Good. I like curious children. They make the best students."
---
Later That Morning
Breakfast at the Cross estate was served in the sunroom. The aroma of fresh bread and roasted Mandearoz filled the air. Clarisse greeted Ventis warmly, her noble manner returning like a well-practiced mask — graceful, poised, each gesture refined.
But when she caught sight of Baker sitting at the far end of the table, his eyes bright with curiosity, her smile softened naturally.
"So this is my nephew," she said gently. "You've grown well, Baker."
Baker stood and bowed politely. "It's an honor to meet you, Aunt Clarisse."
They sat together after breakfast, sipping light tea. Clarisse leaned forward, the corners of her lips quirking upward. "I heard you've been studying quite a bit — history, magic, and cooking?"
He nodded. "Yes, Aunt. I'm… kind of fascinated by both magic and the kitchen. I've even started writing my own recipes."
Her eyes brightened. "Oh, then we'll get along just fine."
---
Later That Day – The Lesson
They moved to the courtyard, where the morning air still carried a hint of dew. Clarisse placed her hands together and whispered a soft incantation. Pale green light bloomed between her palms — gentle, soothing, radiating warmth.
"This is Basic Healing. Not difficult, but it requires steady focus. Healing isn't about forcing wounds to close. It's about guiding the body to remember what being whole feels like."
Baker watched, wide-eyed, as the light pulsed softly over a small cut on her hand and vanished.
"Try," she said, motioning to a leaf she'd torn in two.
Baker mimicked her movements, focusing his mana carefully. It wavered — a faint, trembling glow that flickered before solidifying into a soft pulse of light. The leaf mended.
Clarisse grinned proudly. "Good! Most people can't even form the base light on their first try."
Baker smiled back. "You make it sound simple, Aunt."
She laughed. "Simple? Hardly. But you've got talent — and that's half the battle."
---
As their lesson continued, Baker noticed something odd. Every so often, Clarisse would drop her noble composure entirely — squatting down to adjust his stance, clapping her hands, or letting out a delighted "Ha! That's perfect!" whenever he got something right.
When he pointed it out, she only laughed, brushing her scarf aside.
"I may have noble blood, dear nephew, but I spend most of my time patching up farmers and adventurers. Etiquette doesn't matter much when you're elbow-deep in mana burns and monster bites."
Baker chuckled. "So… the graceful noble healer is just a mask?"
She winked. "Exactly. But don't tell your mother. She still thinks I act proper all the time."
They both laughed — the sound carrying gently through the courtyard as sunlight glinted off Clarisse's scarf.
And for the first time, Baker felt that maybe nobility wasn't as far removed from warmth and humanity as he'd once thought.