“Was that orphanage fun like this one?” the girl asked innocently.
Liz’s gaze turned distant. “No... It was more like a prison. Many children were crammed into tiny rooms like tools, and the best food we could hope for was a piece of moldy bread every three days. Otherwise, we had to make do by ourselves—dig through the dirt, gnaw on rocks, dive into a spring, and scavenge for anything we could eat, like grass or bugs...”
“Sis, you’re gonna scare her. She won’t be able to sleep like this,” Gina pointed out.
“Oh dear! I’m so sorry,” Liz said, coming back to her senses. “Forget all about that, Lyla.”
Lyla stared intently at Liz. “Poor Liz! But why did you make another orphanage here, then?”
Liz hummed thoughtfully. “Things were harsh back then, but maybe I wanted to start over in this place because it’s where I met my benefactor,” Liz explained with a soft smile.
To craft this into a new place for themselves, they’d cut down trees, cleared the forest, built houses, and expanded the fields. Years had passed since, with many children having been welcomed into the fold, and many others having left the nest.
“Benny-factor?” Lyla echoed.
“Yes. Thanks to him, I could meet you and everyone else here,” Liz explained.
“Ohh. Then I’ll thank him too!” the girl said with a bright grin.
A crowd of children burst into the room shortly after. “Lyla! Finally!” one of them said.
“You were here all along? No fair! I want a hug from Liz too!”
“Me too! I want a hug!”
The room suddenly grew lively, and Gaion clicked his tongue. “Hey brats! It’s bedtime, you know!”
“Oh! It’s Gaion! Are you back from hunting?”
“Play with us!”
“Hey! Wait a second! Hey, now!” Gaion protested, still doing push-ups as the children climbed onto his back, laughing and squealing joyfully.
“Honestly,” Liz said with a sigh.
Lyla smiled brightly. “Liz, tell us more about your benny-factor!”
The other children’s ears perked up curiously. “Benny-factor?”
“Huh? Who’s that? What do you mean?”
“Oh! Liz told me about him,” said an older girl proudly. “It’s her childhood friend, right? They say he became a national hero!”
“What, seriously? Wait, is this—”
“Liz, you know him?!”
“What? What? I wanna know too!”
The children’s sparkling eyes all turned to Liz. She glanced at Gina, then sighed deeply. “I suppose I could tell you. Just for a bit, though. Then you need to go to sleep, okay?”
Calling him “a national hero” felt at odds with the carefree demeanor of the man in Liz’s mind. He’d just done what he always did, with a nonchalant expression all the while. The pitch darkness out the window reminded Liz of the coat he used to wear.
The fireplace near the wall crackled and popped, its warm, gentle light illuminating the curious faces of the children.
“That man...was with me in the old orphanage, the one that was here before we built this one,” Liz said in a relaxed tone, as though reading a bedtime story. “He healed wounds, saved people, and set the world right before anyone knew it. Nowadays, people call him a national hero, but I’m sure he’d hate that. He doesn’t like standing out, you see. He’s always been elusive, never the type to push others aside and step forward. He disliked the spotlight so much that he ran a clandestine clinic in the shadows. I misunderstood him at first, and went through a lot because of that!”
Liz chuckled as she looked over the children.
“This is a story about my somewhat unusual benefactor. The tale of a shadow healer in a corner of the ruined city...”
Afterword
Hello! I’m Sakaku Hishikawa.
Thank you so much for picking up a copy of the third volume of The Brilliant Healer’s New Life in the Shadows!
They say truth is stranger than fiction, and with how much recent events have indeed surpassed the world of fiction, I’m truly grateful that I could bring this story to you. My gratitude knows no bounds!
And on a complete change of topic, I recently started a vegetable garden in a plot within walking distance to try and be a little more self-sufficient, food-wise. It’s a tiny field, but I’ve been diligent about tilling rows into the soil in my spare time, having conversations with the earth.
I tried my hand at growing strawberries this season, and they turned out unbelievably sweet—to the point that I don’t think I can ever go back to store-bought after eating them! There I was, feeling like a strawberry-growing prodigy, happily stuffing strawberry after strawberry into my mouth, when one of them had this strange texture. I spat it out, and lo and behold, a bunch of ants were chilling inside the strawberry.
In honor of this once-in-a-lifetime strawberry encounter, I did not kill the ants, and released them back into nature. Thus concludes my tale of but the tip of the iceberg of the difficulties of agriculture and the harshness of nature.
And now I’m inspired to work even harder in my creative fields as well!
Now then, on to acknowledgments.
