Volume 1, Chapter 24 – The One Who Pleads for Hope

Claiming to avoid the crowd, when Yisi reached the intersection, she found the street completely blocked. The habit of rubbernecking existed in every world, and left with no choice, Yisi had to push through the crowd, though the process was utterly unpleasant.

As for what exactly had happened, Yisi gathered from the onlookers that a merchant had been attacked by monsters in the wild, and his daughter was severely injured. They had brought her to the nearest city, Niru, for treatment. However, the girl’s injuries were too grave for the temple priests to heal. Despite this, the merchant clung to the priest, desperately begging for help.

Though the merchant’s actions seemed unreasonable, Yisi could understand his emotions. As the only institution capable of healing, the church’s priests were the merchant’s last lifeline. To save his daughter’s life, he had no choice but to pin his hopes on whatever seemed possible.

The crowd was so dense that Yisi’s progress was painfully slow. Out of curiosity, she opened the Omniscient Map to check just how severe the injured girl’s condition was.

Less than 20% HP left? Wait, is it really that simple to measure life or death with just a single numerical value?

Would an elderly person nearing the end of their life and a young person display different HP values? Would someone with a cold have different HP from a healthy person? How much difference would there be in HP loss between a pinprick on the arm and a stab wound through the abdomen?

In a game, this would make perfect sense—after all, excessive complexity would raise the barrier to entry and shrink the player base. But in reality, it was hard not to question it. By what standard was HP measured here? What factors influenced it? Of course, even if she figured it out, it wouldn’t be of much practical use. Yisi was simply curious.

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After all, aside from her, most ordinary people were only around levels 1 to 3, with HP caps of less than 30 points. Under such conditions, if someone suffered a minor injury—say, a cut from a kitchen knife—how much HP would they lose? If it was 1 point, would it also be 1 point for Yisi, whose HP was in the five-digit range? Taking it further, if even a small cut could deduct 1 HP, would thirty such wounds be enough to kill a person outright?

The dissonance between numerical values and reality left Yisi baffled.

Well, let’s just chalk it up to a bug in the world’s system.

Setting aside these convoluted questions, Yisi continued weaving through the crowd with Camilla. The HP display might be unique to her, and asking theologians about it could arouse suspicion.

Come to think of it, I wonder how recovery potions from the game would work in reality. What about other game items capable of performing miracles?

Moreover, many pieces of equipment in the game could only be used after reaching a certain level—a restriction imposed by the game’s programming. But in reality, since she could withdraw gold coins from her inventory, she should theoretically be able to take out weapons and armor as well. The question was whether the level restrictions still applied. No—first, she should consider whether the equipment retained its in-game effects.

But just as Yisi was lost in these scattered thoughts, a hand suddenly grabbed the hem of her skirt.

Unbeknownst to her, during her musings, Yisi had pushed her way to the front of the crowd. The priest had already left, leaving behind only the despairing merchant. The man was clearly well-off—despite his bloodstained clothes, the expensive fabric was still discernible. Yet the mixture of tears, dirt, and blood on his face made him look utterly wretched.

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Contrary to her expectation that the merchant was lashing out at fate, he was simply kneeling before the crowd, trembling uncontrollably. Like a man fallen into an abyss looking up and pleading for light, he choked back sobs as he scanned the bystanders, shamelessly begging.

“By any means—if anyone can save my daughter, I’ll give them all the wealth I’ve accumulated! Please, I beg you! She’s my only child!”

Repeating these words over and over, the middle-aged man crawled on the ground, beseeching each person in turn. With trembling hands, he pulled coins from his pocket and scattered them on the ground. The crisp clinking of gold drew audible gulps from the crowd, but no one dared to pick them up. Provoking a desperate man’s wrath over a few coins was hardly worth the risk.

“Hmm—” Yisi let out a low hum, glancing at the bloodstain now on her skirt before shifting her gaze to the blood-soaked girl lying behind the merchant. Judging by her size, she was around ten years old. Her body—including her face—was covered in savage bite marks, some so deep that bone was visible. The sight of the mangled, pinkish-white flesh was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Considering the risk of infection, even modern medicine would likely be powerless to save her.

Yisi turned to Camilla. Thanks to her combat training, Camilla hadn’t lost her in the crowd.

“Can injuries like that be healed?”

“If a third-tier holy or light-attribute spell is used, her life might be temporarily preserved. But she’ll never walk again—she’d be bedridden for the rest of her life.”

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There was no trace of pity in Camilla’s eyes—just her usual impassive expression.

“Then why didn’t the priest heal her earlier?”

“Only a high priest or higher can cast third-tier healing spells. The high priest of Niru isn’t capable of that.”

“What about medicine? Well—I mean magic potions.”

In this world, aside from herbal remedies made by apothecaries, there were also alchemically brewed potions imbued with magical effects. Magic potions were known for their potent efficacy and rapid action. From what Yisi recalled of the Count’s eldest daughter’s memories, even a mid-grade healing potion could instantly mend broken bones.

“A high-grade healing potion could cure her, but those are extremely rare. They’re treasured by royal families across nations—ordinary people have no way of obtaining them. Even if they did, money alone wouldn’t be enough to buy one.”

“Miss, you must have a healing potion, right? Please, save my daughter! I’ll find a way to repay you, no matter the cost!”

Whether he had overheard Yisi and Camilla’s conversation or was simply struck by Yisi’s opulent attire—mistaking her for nobility—the merchant crawled toward her again, clutching her skirt as he wept and pleaded.

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Had this happened in a secluded place, Yisi would have helped without hesitation. Saving the girl wouldn’t have been difficult for her. If a third-tier spell could stabilize her, then Yisi—capable of even higher-tier healing magic—could have had the girl up and running in no time.

But this was a crowded street. After learning how rare third-tier magic was, Yisi had resolved to keep her abilities hidden. Without knowing the full extent of this world’s top-tier combatants, recklessly revealing her hand was far from wise. After all, healing magic was far more coveted than offensive spells.

Besides, by all accounts, the Count’s eldest daughter didn’t seem like the type to lend a helping hand. Frankly, if she didn’t pour pepper spray on someone’s wounds, they should consider themselves blessed by the gods.

After a moment of internal struggle, Yisi forced her expression into one of cold indifference and glanced down at the merchant with detachment.

“Would you mind letting go?”

“H-how could you…?”

“I have no interest in wasting experimental materials on livestock.”