Mary's Spies! Save a Life, Belong for a Lifetime!

The sky was overcast and the air was hot and humid, signs of heavy rain.

However, the temple remained bustling with people, and every path winding between the ancient buildings was as busy as ever. Countless priests in grey robes were sowing seeds, feeding chickens, and teaching children...

That vibrant and uplifting spirit instantly swept away the gloom and restlessness brought about by the dense clouds and sultry atmosphere.

The Temple of Melitele had anticipated their return, and soon after they left the secluded back mountain, Lyra and several priests came to greet them.

After a brief examination of the injuries of Bont, Big Iron Shield, and Furi, they took over the care of the three wounded.

While the old doctor was treating the injuries to the Big Iron Shield and Furi, Lyra nervously scanned Ailin's body for a long time. Only after seeing no injuries did she breathe a sigh of relief.

She gave Evans, who looked dazed and confused, a strange look, and said:

"Ailin, who is he?"

"He doesn't need to be worried about him," Ailin said. "Lyra, you left in a hurry yesterday, don't you know how Huus's injury is?"

"Huus' surgery went smoothly yesterday, and the High Priest said he will wake up today."

"That's good."

Although they had expected it, when they heard the good news that Huus was alright, Ailin and the other witchers were all relieved.

Dante glanced at Lyra, whispered a few words to Vesemir beside him, and then his expression turned serious.

"Is it Lyra?" He suddenly looked at the priestess. "I heard from Ailin and Vesemir that if it weren't for you, Huus would have..."

Dante paused, closed his eyes, and said solemnly:

"I, Dante, owe you a favor."

Seeing Dante's reaction, Lyra quickly waved her hands, "No, no, it was just good luck. I just happened to run into him. Even if it wasn't him, someone else would have saved Huus..."

Dante shook his head. "That's not how it is..."

"Alright, Dante," Vesemir interrupted the two of them, "We're all family, just keep that in mind. If you keep arguing, we'll become distant."

"Family members?" Dante was taken aback.

The terms used can vary depending on the closeness of the relationship: acquaintances, friends, family...

He glanced at the mischievous grin on Vesemir's face, and then saw Lyra remain silent but lower her head, her cheeks flushed red on the side facing him. He immediately realized something and looked towards the center of attention for all the young witchers except Fred — Ailin.

"Ah... I see." Dante's tone trailed off, his teasing tone becoming meaningful. "Then there's no need to be so formal."

Ernie, Klar, and the others also started making "oh oh oh" noises, like a flock of geese.

"Quiet down!" Ailin said. "The doctors are still treating the wounded..."

He hadn't finished speaking...

"It's alright, it won't affect anything, you can continue!"

The old nanny in front of Furi turned around with a smile, her nasolabial folds showing she was watching the show.

The other two priests nodded in agreement, echoing, "That's right, that's right, it won't affect anything, it won't affect anything!"

Ailin, interrupted, paused for a moment. Looking at their movements, they were so skilled that she could do it with her eyes closed.

Before he could figure out how to stop the "riot,"

"Of course we're family, Master Dante, no need to be so polite..." Lyra suddenly raised her head and joined the battle.

Ailin suddenly turned around and looked over.

The young priest awkwardly lowered his eyes, a nervous smile on his face.

When Ailin looked over, the little priest winked at him, as if to reassure him, and then continued:

"My life was saved by Ailin, and it was Lady Vesemir who brought me to the temple. Of course we are family, so let's not talk about owing favors."

"Otherwise..."

"How can I ever repay this life-saving debt?"

A few seconds of silence followed, then some oblivious witcher suddenly blurted out:

"To redeem a life, and to belong to it for a lifetime?"

This is a common line from a popular chivalric novel set in the Northern Continent, featuring a classic hero rescuing a damsel in distress plot.

The priestess, who had just mustered the courage to help Ailin out of the predicament, subconsciously turned her head to look at Ailin. After realizing the meaning of "redeeming one life, belonging to one's whole life," she let out an "ah" and suddenly lowered her head, as if she wanted to bury it in the ground.

"Alright, alright, let's get down to business," Ailin glared at Kray, who was hiding in the crowd. "Lyra, Mother Ianna at the temple right now? We need to talk to her about something."

"The High Priest is in the reception room."

Lyra pretended nothing had happened, but the flush on her fair neck betrayed her.

However, Vesemir and Dante were both experienced and knew that they had reached their limit. If they continued teasing them, something bad might happen, so they didn't expose them.

"The reception room? The temple has guests?" Ailin was taken aback.

"Lady Tissaia de Veres of Aretuza," Lyra said, "Arrived suddenly shortly before you arrived, and the High Priest and Nannick were receiving her."

Do you know what it is?

"I don't know," Lyra shook her head. "Lady Tissaia de Veris just arrived, and the Good Girl flew down from the sky. The High Priest sent me to bring people to pick you up."

Should I go ask now?

"No need." Ailin and Vesemir exchanged a glance, thinking that it was probably news from the spies that Tissaia de Veres had sent to Ard.

However, it's good that Tissaia de Veris is at the temple, saving them the trouble of making another trip to the Duke's castle in Arland to show their sincerity.

After thinking for a moment, Vesemir said, "Then I entrust Bont, Big Iron Shield, and Furi to you all..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Suddenly, Nannick appeared on the path not far away.

"Ailin, Vesemir, and me... and who is this?" Nannick's gaze lingered on Evans for a moment before landing on Dante.

"Dante, the Witcher Master of the School of the Wolf," Vesemir introduced briefly.

Nannick and Dante exchanged a brief greeting and bowed to each other.

"Lady Nannick, is the High Priest looking for us?" Ailin asked.

"No," Nannick shook his head, "It's Tissaia de Veres of Aretuza. She has something to tell you."

Ailin and Vesemir were stunned for a moment, then looked at each other in bewilderment.

Unexpectedly, Tissaia de Veres, whom they had just been talking about, was now also looking for them.

but...

What could Tissaia de Veres possibly need to talk to them about?

"Ailin, Master Vesemir, Master Dante, you should go quickly," Lyra said. "Leave this to me, Gisela, and Lady Ilyana."

"Thank you for your help!"

Ailin nodded, and after leaving a group of young witchers to lend a hand, he, Vesemir, and Dante followed Nannick toward the gate.

"Still looking, girl? You're already far away!"

The sound behind her startled Lyra. She turned around and saw Gisela looking at her mischievously, while the other young witchers glanced at her and whispered among themselves.

"If you're so reluctant to leave, why don't you follow them?"

"How could I be reluctant?!" Lyra turned her gaze away from the deserted path. "Besides, I still have to help you guys!"

"Help with what?" Ilyana shook her head with amusement. "Gisela, what do you think we need Lyra to help with? Change bandages, stop the bleeding, move medicine, or pray for Divine Art?"

Gisela's face crinkled with laughter at Ilyana's words. She chuckled for a while before becoming serious and listing everything in detail:

"Changing bandages and stopping the bleeding shouldn't be necessary; the two of us are enough. And those strong young men are there to carry the medicinal herbs, so that shouldn't be needed either. As for Divine Art, Lyra is probably beyond the realm of magic; she'd have trouble even treating minor injuries..."

"Oh—I've got it?" Gisela deliberately drew out her words. "Lyra's staying behind is indeed useful; she has an irreplaceable and invaluable purpose!"

"What did you think of? What great use is it?" Ilyana pretended to play along.

Gisela's eyes crinkled with laughter. "Of course, it's to keep an eye on us two old women on behalf of our great hero, Sir Ailin!"

"Girl Gisela! Aunt Ilyana!"

Lyra's mouth puffed up like a goldfish with anger, her pearly teeth biting her lower lip until it left a crescent-shaped mark, and she stomped her little feet angrily several times.

"Okay, okay, I won't say anymore! I won't say anymore!"

Lyra's voice was harmless, but Gisela and Ilyana still laughed and begged for mercy.

They joked and laughed for a while.

"Alright," Gisela waved her hand. "Didn't you ask me how to suture a wedge-shaped wound?"

"Come over here and let me teach you how to stitch up your wound."

Faced with the temptation, Lyra could only helplessly and obediently walk over and squat down next to Gisela.

"Wedge-shaped wounds are common injuries... well... they're also one of the most common types of wounds for Witchers..."

"Girl Gisela!" Lyra scolded playfully.

"Alright, alright, I was just reminding you. Let's get back to the main topic," Gisela smiled kindly. "Because the incision is so large, the suturing technique after cleaning and disinfection will greatly affect the subsequent recovery. Now watch carefully."

"The fine needle should first be threaded through the inner gold thread, then looped around a small section on the outside, and then threaded through like this... and then like this again..."

"You must be precise, fast, and ruthless. Don't worry about causing harm, otherwise you'll suffer secondary damage and only then can you achieve a good result..."

Ilyana also offered some pointers and filled in any gaps in her knowledge.

After a while, once Lyra understood, Gisela found another wound on Furi and instructed her to suture it herself.

"That's right, that's exactly it." Gisela nodded repeatedly.

Lyra wiped the sweat from her forehead, looking at her somewhat immature but fairly neat stitches on her wound with satisfaction, and was about to ask what to do next.

"Lyra," Gisela suddenly whispered in her ear, "Not only when sewing, but you have to be precise, fast, and ruthless. Your nanny is telling you, you have to be like that no matter what you do..."

Lyra paused, tilting her head. She saw that Gisela's eyes weren't teasing or mocking, but rather unusually serious, speaking with earnestness.

"Girl Gisela?"

Gisela took off her gloves and gently touched Lyra's hair:

"Especially feelings, Lyra."

"Once you've chosen the wound you want to stitch, you can't be distracted by other wounds. If you hesitate and don't dare to start, and don't stitch it up in one go, the wound will bleed, it will be difficult to heal, and someone more experienced, more accurate, faster, and more ruthless than you will take your place."

"Lyra," Gisela's aged eyes stared into hers, as if piercing her heart, "Do you wish to be replaced?"

Do I... want to be replaced?

Lyra stared blankly at her freshly stitched wound, a blonde girl flashing through her mind.

They stood in the square, gazing into each other's eyes, and danced in each other's arms.

Amid cheers and blessings from the crowd, she donned a crown and garland, and the float paraded through the park...

How many times...

Countless times in her dreams, she imagined that "she" was herself, Lyra cheering, embracing, dancing, and kissing Ailin...

She even dreamed countless times of that intense body temperature that seemed to melt her.

But when she woke up, she was all alone with only her own warmth.

"But...but I wasn't the one who chose the wound first..." Lyra avoided Gisela's gaze. "Is this...is this okay?"

Wasn't Lyra the first one there?

Gisela paused, muttering a curse at the lucky bastard, and cautiously asked, "So they're officially dating?"

Lyra thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Probably not..."

She paused for a second, then added helplessly, "Ai... Ailin, I don't know why, but right now it seems like she... she doesn't have that thought..."

A Witcher from the School of the Wolf wouldn't have those kinds of thoughts.

Are you sure?

Gisela was silent for a few seconds before saying, "That's alright. Since we haven't established a relationship, it won't violate the Lady's teachings."

"Lyra, it doesn't matter who comes first, what matters is who makes it to the end..."

"And since you already have competitors, you should be even more proactive!"

"I'll say it again..."

Do you want to be replaced?

"No! Absolutely not!" Lyra answered decisively.

The thought of that scene happening made my heart feel like it was blocked by a huge, cold block of iron, so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

"That's right."

Gisela and Ilyana exchanged a glance and nodded in satisfaction.

Nearby, Evans, Klar, and a group of young witchers, who had pricked up their ears but pretended not to hear anything, exchanged bewildered glances. Their expressions were so complex that they even seemed to be having a conversation out of thin air, the content of which was roughly...

"What should we do? Miss Mary's house is about to be raided!"

"Sigh~ Miss Mary, why couldn't you just stay in Kaer Morhen? If you had come along, everything would have been fine."

"I think Priestess Lyra is actually quite good. She saved Huus, is beautiful, gentle, and knows both medicine and Divine Art..."

"Klar, you traitor!"*6

"Priestess Lyra is certainly good, but have you forgotten how Miss Mary treated us? She saved us from Master Aristo many times!"

"Wait! Why do we have to choose one? I see that all the nobles have lovers, and the captain is a noble now, so can't the captain have them all?"

The syllogism is logically clear and meticulous.

The exchange of expressions fell silent at this moment.

"This... this seems like a good idea! But we still need to tell Miss Mary when we get back!"

"That's right! Loyalty!"

"Loyalty" *6

At this moment, Lyra herself was unaware that there were already seven spies among her rivals, ready to betray her.

She bit her lower lip, the thought echoing in her mind, "Redeem one life, belong to one for life!"

yes...

Since he saved my life, he has long been the one to whom I belong for the rest of my life.

I was the first one here!