My Vengeful Former Lover

She frowned at the blood that flowed and the wound she saw for the first time.

Her fingers trembled and started feeling numb that she had to hold her hands together and spoke to herself over and over again.

“It’s alright. You can do it.” Deatrice murmured, closed her eyes, and stretched out her hand on the bare skin of his back.

She may not have performed it since her mother’s death, but her divine powers effortlessly flowed out at will and wrapped around Lucius’ torso. But at the same time, burning heat and indescribable pain slowly coursed through her body from her outstretched arms and onto her back.

She fiercely bit her lip from the pain she felt and it drew blood.

His wound healed slowly, but the pain that was being transmitted to her was getting even more painful by the second. She felt her back burning.

Strand-like tissues slowly appeared from both sides of the wound, connecting until his injuries are slowly covered by newly formed skin.

Deatrice thought dazedly about how it was as if his wounds had been directly transferred to her. Like how it wasn’t his blood oozing from an open wound but hers.

The sheer amount of pain made her unable to breathe and she marveled at how it was a miracle that Lucius could still manage to endure the trip back home despite feeling such intense suffering.

It hurt so much that Deatrice couldn’t help but scream, but she couldn’t stop.

Not yet.

When his wounds had at least healed by half, she couldn’t bear it any longer and had to let go of him.

She collapsed on the bed where Lucius was lying. Her dark hair splayed against bedsheets like curling tendrils, her forehead all sweaty and matted with baby hairs.

When Deatrice rested her left cheek on the best, she caught sight of Lucius’ hand wrapping around the handkerchief she had given her.

“All the suffering you endure is an illusion. They’re not real.”

“Everyone who uses divine powers has their limitations, but in your case, it is your limitations that cause you pain.”

“All those who possess divine power have to become priests because it is only when they work with the gods can they gradually overcome their limitations.”

“Although you are not a priest, it might be possible to remove that limitation in a similar way.”

A priest who once looked over her prayers said that. The gist of what she meant was to get her closer to her god and be freed from whatever was restricting her. She could understand that part, but she was furious at how the priest assumed that all the pain she had suffered was simply an illusion.

How dare he claim it wasn’t real?!

He wasn’t the one who experienced his senses screaming out to him as they had no choice but to accept the bombardment of pain tormenting her body and spirit!

But now, looking at Lucius and recalling the pain that was transmitted to her, she thought that maybe—maybe—all of this is an illusion.

Because when she broke up with him and felt his absence, she suffered the same kind of pain. It wasn’t like someone had stabbed her with a knife—no. It was the kind of pain where she felt her lungs clinging close to her heart, begging it to forget its woes and let them breathe.

“Did you even love me?”

That sentence was stuck inside her head in an agonizing cycle. She couldn’t help but shed tears when he said those words again in the Cathedral of the Dawn and spent the next few nights in the illusion of pain.

Deatrice clenched her fists, burying her tear-stained face in the sheets.

***

Lucius opened his eyes, feeling that his body had become lighter.

He knew he was treated with divine power because it had always left a unique sensation after they were done. He had also realized that he was healed far quicker than he had expected.

Is the priest still here?

They must’ve utilized many resources and manpower to get him to arrive this quickly.

Lucius tried getting up when he inhaled sharply and frowned. His back still felt sore, probably because it wasn’t completely healed yet. He stretched his hand behind his back to check the wound, but then he quickly noticed Deatrice was right next to him, sleeping.

It was strange that she would fall asleep in that kind of uncomfortable position, bent over the edge of the bed as she sat on a chair. He hoped she wasn’t sick.

Lucius softly called out.

“Deatrice.”

Gently brushing the hair that covered her face with his fingers, Lucius saw her small and delicate face had a serene expression, not even a grimace nor any sign of discomfort.

Why is she sleeping here?

There was no one in the room save for the two of them. He didn’t think she would go out of her way to take care of him and his injuries, and then fall asleep after tending to him.

Then why is she here?

Whilst grumbling over his thoughts, Lucius could not stop the corners of his lips from quirking up as he stared at the sleeping Deatrice’s face.

If he had to use an excuse for his actions, it would be because he was half-asleep and not in his right mind. Like there was this strange energy enveloping his body, rendering him helpless.

Lucius slowly stretched out his hand.