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When people think of healing practitioners, Shrine Maidens of the Saintess’ Church are the most iconic. However, they’re not the only ones; there are also freelance (or rather, unaffiliated) shrine maidens and male practitioners. Still, it’s said that even including all of them, the total number of healing arts users across the continent amounts to only a few tens of thousands.

For reference, even Cestlavie (who can only use beginner-level healing spells like closing small cuts or curing hangovers) is included in that number. That should give you an idea of just how rare individuals with healing aptitude truly are.

Because of this, shrine maidens of the Saintess’ Church generally refuse walk-in patients. Unless you have an introduction from a noble or a major merchant, they won’t treat you. And the treatment fees aren’t just exorbitant, but also unlimited depending on the illness. For the average person, it’s the kind of bill you’d need two or three lifetimes to repay.

As for me, healing doesn’t take anything away from me, so I’d love to heal the poor more often as a kind of volunteer service, but…

“No, it *does*. It really drains you, a *lot*. Even someone like me, who can only use the basics, gets completely wiped out in mana and stamina when casting healing spells. You, on the other hand, are constantly spewing out high-level healing art like a broken dam. Are you stupid? Show some restraint. Because of you, other shrine maidens are getting unfairly criticized by rude civilians, being called stingy or lazy. They’re suffering because of your example.”
“Seriously, Lady Clara, you should value yourself more. I know you’re casually curing terminal illnesses like it’s nothing, but I think it’s totally fine to say; *‘Life isn’t cheap. Pay me 50,000 gold coins’* I mean, I could manage your fees if you’d like?”

Since even my own companions scold me like that, or give me these harsh, back-alley-doctor-sounding suggestions, I’ve had no choice but to hold back somewhat.

Naturally, the small number of healing practitioners can’t possibly treat every injured or sick person on the continent. So in the cities and towns, you’ll also find medical doctors, herbalists, and curse-healers (in broader terms, witches also fall under this category). They provide treatment at more accessible prices, although even then, the cost is roughly equivalent to a month’s wages for a skilled laborer.

As a note, the medical science of this world is about on par with Edo-period *hondō-i* (i.e., internal medicine doctors). Internal medicine, based primarily on pharmacology and herbology, is the mainstream approach here. And the general level of healthcare is about the same as back then, too.

Minor illnesses or small cuts can be treated with medicine, but anything beyond that leaves you with only two choices: leave it to luck or spend a fortune to obtain a miraculous elixir or summon a healing practitioner.

Because of that, healing arts are often seen as more versatile compared to conventional medicine, but of course, they also have their limits.

First of all, they cannot bring the dead back to life —There are shady necromancy or corpse-resurrection spells that can make a corpse move, but at those points they’ve become monsters— Nor can healing arts regenerate major missing body parts or complex organs, like eyes or kidneys.

Then again… according to questionable legends, Lady Snow, the titular Saintess of the Saintess’ Church, was said to be capable of resurrection. But it’s common for the deeds of great people and those in power to be embellished over time, so it’s best to take those stories with a generous grain of salt.

In the first place, statistically speaking, once a story passes through just one person —like *“According to my dad…”*— it’s already said to be almost 100% different from the truth. It’s safer to only believe about half of what you hear, at most.

In fact, although it might sound odd coming from me, the current (fake) Shrine Maiden Princess of the Saintess’ Church, I honestly feel that Healing Arts and Resurrection stem from entirely different roots. At the very least, resurrection is not the final extension or ultimate evolution of healing. It’s something fundamentally *different*, a completely separate force. …At the very least, that’s what my experience as a healer tells me.

If that’s the case, then perhaps Lady Snow, who supposedly mastered both Healing and Resurrection Arts, wasn’t actually a single person but a fictional figure composed of multiple individuals. Or perhaps she wasn’t a Saintess at all, but a trickster merely bearing the title. And if, by chance, all those whispered legends are true, then she can’t possibly be human. Frankly, I’d find it more believable if she turned out to be an alien.

With that being said,

“—Good. The cut is clean. If that’s the case, I should be able to reattach it with Healing Art.”

With the help of Cestlavie and Regulus, I lined up the severed right arm of Mother Güllens and carefully checked the condition of the wound, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Well, there’s no way I could regenerate an entire arm, after all. I’m glad I held back just enough.”
“Ooooh, such splendid foresight and cunning. As expected of Lady Clara!”
“ “What do you mean, *held back*?!” ”

Coppelia nodded in agreement, but for some reason, both Cestlavie and Regulus reacted as if struck by lightning, shouting existential questions into the air. But honestly, things being this chaotic around me is par for the course, so I didn’t let it bother me and simply focused on performing the healing spell.

“Please hold it in place firmly. —「The Great Healing Hand shall kindle your flame of life.」”

My magic staff began to emit a soft glow. Mother Güllens looked puzzled for a moment, but perhaps sensing my intent and understanding what I was about to do on an instinctual level—

“Gygaaah!”
“Gugeegh!”
“Geh geh geh!”

The young Güllenses who had been watching anxiously from behind the stalactites suddenly began to panic—until Mother Güllens quickly hushed them all with a sharp command:
“Gegegeh-ro!”

“—「Regenerate!!」”

With a surge of energy and a firm final push. There might be some lingering nerve discomfort, but the right arm should now be properly reattached with no serious issues.

“Gero!? Gero-gero-roh!! Gee-ko geko ♪”

Eyes wide in amazement, Mother Güllens opened and closed the newly restored right hand, bending and flexing it experimentally. I had assumed some rehabilitation would be necessary, but the recovery is surprisingly fast. Honestly, her life force is almost on par with a planarian.

“Gerogero-gero♪”
“Gerogero♪”
“Gero-gero♪”
“Guwa♪”
“Gegegegegegegege♪”

The little Güllenses sang a joyous tune in their froggy language as they hopped around in glee, celebrating the fully restored Mother Güllens. At the center of the circle, Mother Güllens happily danced with great energy, prompting me to hastily call out in warning.

“Don’t start moving so vigorously all of a sudden! Even if it looks fully healed, the blood you’ve lost won’t come back. You need to rest and take in nutrients to replenish it—though I suppose you don’t understand what I’m saying…”

As I fretted over what to do, I felt a gentle tug on my sleeve. Looking down, I found Coppelia standing there with a smug, puffed-up posture.

“Heehee, Lady Clara. Have you forgotten who I am?” She gave a loaded, knowing smile.

“Huh? Is this a quiz? Umm… If I had to put it in one phrase, I’d say… a bomb without a safety lock?” Caught off guard, I ended up blurting out my honest impression.

“Hahahahaha, oh come now, you’re joking again.” Coppelia dismissed it with an infuriating smile. “Indeed… with a skeleton made of orichalcum, a perpetual engine in the form of a dragon gem for a heart, and a philosopher’s stone brain far surpassing human intellect—behold, the perfect maid: me, Ultimate Battle Automaton Coppelia!”

“Wait, what? A papier-mâché skeleton, a forever marginally functioning heart, and kidney stones in her brain that make her stray far from human common sense; the junk maid Coppelia?”
“Close enough.”

This was Coppelia’s usual boast, but unfortunately, thanks to the echoing of the croaking songs in the cramped cave, it was hard to hear clearly. Regulus repeated her words, slightly off, but somehow landing on a bizarrely accurate interpretation, and Cestlavie confirmed it.

Internally, I had to admit it was a pretty spot-on description. Fortunately or unfortunately, Coppelia didn’t seem to catch it, and she proudly puffed her chest out as she continued:

“It’s been 95 minutes since we first encountered these creatures. Using the data I’ve gathered, my superior brain has now achieved translation of their Croak language,” she said with a smug grin. “Now, let’s test it. Watch as I tell that Güllens over there to ‘Jump.’”

***

#Author’s Note:#

Healing Art automatically converts mana for its own activation (aka, regardless of the control of its user).

Normally, if there isn’t enough mana, the spell simply fails. However, the Saintess Church’s training method uses a workaround: when mana is insufficient, the caster compensates by converting their stamina or life force. Because of this, if they push past their limits, shrine maidens face life-threatening danger, and their average lifespan is only around forty to fifty years.

In Jill’s case, she follows a self-taught style supplemented by instruction from a beastkin holy maiden, so she doesn’t use reckless spells that push past her limits. Her innate magical reserves are extraordinarily large to begin with, so as long as it’s beginner to intermediate level healing art, she can cast it continuously for about half a day without issue.