I Raised the Demon Queen (Now She Won't Leave Me Alone)-Chapter 67 : Elias’s New Job

It turned out healing people wasn't so different from putting out magical fires—both required steady hands, a strong will, and a tolerance for the smell of singed hair.

Elias rolled up his sleeves, pressed his fingers against a boy's shoulder, and murmured the incantation. A golden lattice shimmered over the wound, sinew knitting beneath the light.

The boy flinched, then stared as the pain vanished.

"There," Elias said, smiling gently. "Try moving it."

The boy rotated his arm. No wince. No hesitation. "You're amazing, sir!"

The ward nurse beamed from across the room. "He's the best we've had in a year."

"Just doing my job," Elias muttered, ears faintly pink as he moved to the next patient.

The capital's central magic hospital—Candlethorn—wasn't quite the sparkling tower of enchantment he'd imagined. More like a semi-haunted cathedral full of overworked mages and complaints about mana quotas. But he liked the work. Healing came naturally. It always had.

Still, popularity was new.

He was used to being invisible. Here, even the senior healers nodded when he passed. Apprentices asked for tips. A fire witch from burn ward had slipped him a sweet bun with a note written in flame-script.

He hadn't known how to respond to that one.

And if he sometimes caught himself smiling when no one was looking, well, that was between him and the mana circuits.

Meanwhile, Revantra was on a mission.

She adjusted the oversized scarf around her neck, stuffed cotton in her cheeks to feign swelling, and practiced her most pitiful expression in the mirror of the lobby's public restroom.

Too dramatic. Too dead-eyed. Too regal.

She tried again.

Better.

The receptionist barely looked up when Revantra limped in, dragging one foot like it was an injured war relic.

"Name?" the woman asked.

"Uh... Rina. My throat is—" She coughed weakly. "And my foot is... fractured. Maybe. Probably."

The receptionist frowned. "Are you a registered patient?"

"No. But my, uh, my uncle works here."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Elias. He's... tall. Brown hair. Soft voice. Might smell faintly of healing herbs and chronic awkwardness?"

The woman stared at her.

"I mean," Revantra corrected quickly, "he's very good at his job."

"Wait here."

Revantra waited. She did not fidget. Fidgeting was for amateurs.

Ten minutes later, Elias appeared in the hall, eyebrows high and expression half-dismayed, half-exasperated.

"Rina," he said, enunciating carefully. "Why are you here?"

"I have... injuries," she said, gesturing vaguely to herself.

"You're faking."

"I prefer the term 'investigative curiosity.'"

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You could've just asked."

"But then I wouldn't have had a dramatic reveal."

"You're wearing cotton balls in your mouth."

"I was going for a glandular look."

He gave her the long-suffering glance of someone used to her antics but still mildly disappointed in the universe.

"Come on," he said. "You're already here."

The back corridors of Candlethorn were lit with warm orbs and smelled faintly of incense and disinfectant. Mages in pale robes moved briskly between wards, trailed by floating charts and whispering familiars. Revantra watched it all with the intensity of a foreign dignitary evaluating an enemy capital.

"You're popular," she noted as two nurses passed and nodded at Elias like he'd saved their kittens.

"I'm efficient." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"You're liked."

"That too, apparently."

She glanced at him sideways. "Does that make you happy?"

He paused, caught off-guard. Then nodded. "Yeah. I think it does."

Her expression softened, just a breath, before she scowled. "I still think your robes are hideous."

"They're regulation."

"They make you look like a cursed bakery apprentice."

"Noted."

They passed a ward with children playing catch with small glowing orbs, each one laughing too loudly. Elias slowed.

"I sometimes volunteer here on weekends," he said. "They recover faster when they're allowed to use their magic."

Revantra watched a girl float a ball with shaky telekinesis. "You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't want to make you feel like you had to come."

"I don't have to come," she said, brushing imaginary lint from her sleeve. "I chose to."

Elias smiled faintly.

"Which," she added, "you should be honored by."

"Oh, I am."

They stopped outside the diagnostics lab. Revantra peeked through the glass.

"What's this room?"

"Mana scans. It reads fluctuations in spell alignment."

"I bet I'd break it."

He considered. "Almost definitely."

She smirked. "Good."

After the tour, they found an unused observation room and sat on the bench by the window. Candlethorn's central garden stretched below—neatly arranged hedges, blue lanterns swaying from hook-vines, and a mana well bubbling quietly at the center.

"You really belong here," she said after a moment.

Elias blinked. "Here?"

"Helping people. Wearing ugly robes. Smelling like salves. It suits you."

He looked away. "Thanks... I think?"

She nudged his arm with her shoulder. "Don't get cocky."

"You snuck into a hospital to spy on me. I think we're well past cocky."

"I was making sure no one was flirting with you again."

He turned. "Again?"

She froze.

"I mean—still! You're susceptible to manipulation."

"I'm not."

"You are. You made a healing potion for our landlord when she complained about her knees."

"She's eighty-seven!"

"She also raised rent the next day."

"...That's fair."

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the wind outside stir the lanterns.

Finally, Revantra said, quietly, "I like seeing you like this."

Elias looked at her.

"You used to flinch every time someone mentioned your magic," she added, not meeting his eyes. "Now you're... comfortable."

"I'm getting there," he said.

She reached down and fiddled with the hem of her borrowed skirt, the silence thickening with things unsaid.

"Do you miss it?" Elias asked softly. "Your old life?"

"No," she said too fast. Then, quieter: "Sometimes."

He waited.

"It was... easy. Being feared. Being in control. But it was lonely. And I didn't realize how much until—" She trailed off.

"Until?"

"Until some stubborn idiot pulled me out of a hole and started making me eat vegetables."

Elias huffed a laugh.

"And now," she went on, "I have to go to school and wear a skirt and pretend I'm not the most powerful thing in the room."

"You might be."

"I am. But I'm also..." She gestured vaguely. "Learning. And I hate it. But it's also... sort of..."

"Good?"

She made a face. "Tolerable."

They smiled.

After a beat, she said, "Do you want me to visit again? Here?"

Elias nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Even if she only came to keep watch. Even if she did it under the pretense of being sick. Even if she'd always find a way to turn it into a performance.

She cared. That was enough.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see that being normal—boringly, frustratingly human—could still be a kind of power.

To be continued...