After her confrontation with her brother, Erina slowly got back to her feet, trembling slightly. Her black hair fell in front of her eyes, concealing her profile. She walked down the dark corridor, one hand pressed firmly against her stomach, where blood continued to flow warmly between her fingers. Some of the maids, still paralyzed by the murderous pressure Drakayn had unleashed earlier, could only watch her pass helplessly. None dared to move. Beyond the visceral fear that had settled deep within their bodies, no one was permitted to heal a wound Drakayn had inflicted on Erina unless he explicitly authorized it—a permission he rarely granted.
Erina entered her room, yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a rolled-up scroll. She unrolled it, revealing a perfectly drawn magic circle: a Level 2 spell.
" 'Cure'," she whispered.
