The Substitute Healer (BL) Chapter 114: “Will y-you spare me

Knowing how critical and complicated Caelum’s position was and with his Crown Princess, Maristella, already entangled in the political web, he understood that even the smallest personal action could be twisted into sothing dangerous.

As much as he wanted to et Soren face to face, to hear his voice directly instead of relying on fragnted reports, he restrained himself. The palace was no longer a place he could move freely in. Every corridor had ears, every servant could be bought, and every step he took beyond protocol would be scrutinized under watchful, prying eyes.

Now that his coronation was officially being planned, the atmosphere within the royal court had grown even more suffocating.

Preparations were grand on the surface such as celebrations, alliances and formal invitations but beneath it all lingered unrest. His younger brother, Cael was also set to be granted a title, a ceremonial gesture that subtly confird what everyone already knew.

Cael no longer had a legitimate chance to inherit the crown.

And yet, despite that, factions within the nobility who had never favored Caelum still whispered his brother’s na in shadowed chambers.

Ironically, Cael himself had been acting in ways that distanced him from the throne, almost as if he wished to avoid it. But that did not matter to those who sought to undermine Caelum. To them, Cael was not a willing candidate, he was rely a convenient alternative.

A symbol to rally behind.

And a pawn to move against the future king.

With the coronation approaching, tensions sharpened like blades and Caelum was not naïve as he knew that the mont the ceremony date was announced, those hostile toward him would grow desperate.

And desperate nobles were the most dangerous kind.

Assassinations disguised as accidents, scandals crafted overnight and allies turned traitors, he had already anticipated it all as he had no illusions about the price of the crown.

Because of that, he limited his movents. He only t only essential figures. Conversations were shortened and appearances are being calculated while the trust were chosen carefully. It was not coldness but survival.

But that did not an Soren was unimportant.

If anything, Soren’s existence had begun to weigh on him more than most matters of state. And precisely because of that, Caelum chose distance. Not out of indifference, nor neglect but protection since anyone seen close to him now would inevitably beco a target.

A weakness to exploit.

Caelum could endure threats against himself but he could not bear the thought of Soren becoming a collateral damage in a war for a throne he had never even have sothing to do so.

Caelum already knew that Soren had many problems to deal with on his own. He understood that Soren was already carrying heavy responsibilities, so he didn’t want to add more pressure to him.

Because Caelum was extrely busy with royal matters and coronation preparations, he didn’t even have the chance to write Soren a letter. There was barely any private ti for him, and even sending a letter could be risky if soone intercepted it.

Instead, he quietly ordered his most trusted n to investigate whether anyone had discovered Soren’s location. He made sure the investigation was done discreetly, without written records, so no one in the palace would suspect anything.

At the sa ti, Caelum was also preventing Cael from digging too deeply into Soren’s disappearance. He redirected Cael’s attention by assigning him other duties and delaying any information related to the matter.

It wasn’t because he hated or distrusted his brother, but because he knew that if Cael found Soren, others in the court might find him too and he also didn’t know what Cael might do to Soren again once he et him again.

Right now, Caelum had to be careful.

If anyone realized that he was sheltering a commoner, they might use it as a way to scrutinized him or worse, use Soren as a way to hurt him. And that was sothing Caelum would never allow.

anwhile, far from the palace, in the western district of the capital, Cael sat inside a dimly lit room, completely at ease. He leaned lazily against the couch with his one leg crossed over the other and a cigarette resting between his fingers as smoke curled slowly into the air.

His posture looked relaxed, almost bored but the coldness in his eyes said otherwise.

In front of him, there was a man who was kneeling on the floor.

The man’s condition was miserable.

His eyes were bloodshot from crying and exhaustion. The expensive clothes he once wore were gone, replaced with nothing but a thin white sleeveless shirt and shorts. His lips were split and bruised, and dark marks covered nearly every part of his body that it was obvious he had been beaten badly.

"W-why? Why are you doing this to ?" the man stamred while his voice was shaking. "Your Highness... did I offend you sohow? If I did, I humbly apologize. I didn’t even realize what I did wrong. What a fool I was... Please, Your Highness, please spare !"

He even repeatedly brought his palms together in desperate pleading while bowing his head over and over as tears stread down his face. His cries were loud enough that even the knights stationed outside the door could clearly hear every word of his desperate begging.

But instead of feeling satisfied by the man’s fear and desperate pleas, Cael only felt disgust. The sight of him groveling on the floor did not entertain him but in the contrary, it irritated him. With a faint scoff, he rolled his eyes, stood up from the couch and walked toward the trembling figure.

Without warning, Cael pressed the burning end of his cigarette against the man’s bare shoulder letting a sharp sizzling sound filled the room.

"Ugh!" The man’s body jerked as his face twisted in pain. "Hngh... hic..." He cried harder while his shoulders are shaking as tears and mucus ran down his bruised face but Cael just watched him coldly, as if observing sothing beneath him.

"Who else were involved with you in this... line of work, Viscount?" Cael asked calmly while his voice was almost bored despite the cruelty of his actions.

The man kneeling before him was Viscount yer, a nobleman who had secretly been involved in human trafficking. He was known for buying off gifted healers under false promises. Instead of turning them over to the palace or properly employing them, he and his associates subjected them to assault, abuse, and constant harassnt that many of the victims had disappeared without a trace along with their suffering being buried under money and influence.

Now, stripped of his status and dignity, Viscount yer trembled at Cael’s feet.

Weeks earlier, Cael had co across that report on purpose.

He had been searching relentlessly for any trace of Soren’s whereabouts while refusing to accept the possibility that Soren was dead. No matter how many rumors spread, no matter how many empty leads he chased, Cael denied them all.

Soren couldn’t be gone and he simply refused to believe it.

Because of that stubborn denial, he began digging deeper, far deeper than he normally would. His search eventually led him to a circle of nobles known for operating underground businesses, illegal trades, human trafficking, assault, harassnt and in so cases... quiet killings that never reached official records.

While going through confiscated docunts and hidden reports, sothing caught his attention.

One of the victims listed had a na that made his chest tighten.

Soren.

Next to the na was a sickening nickna written almost mockingly as the pain freak.

Cael rembered how his hands had stilled as he continued reading as the torture described in the report was painfully detailed. It ntioned repeated whippings, toenails being pulled out over and over again and skin being burned while the victim was beaten at the sa ti.

The cruelty was written so painfully detailed that it made his stomach churn.

And yet, according to the report, Soren had not scread, cried or even begged. Even under that level of torture, there was no record of him making a scene and reading it had made Cael feel throbbing pain crawling across his own skin.

And then, mories from the North resurfaced.

He recalled the ti Soren had been stabbed by a Wendrisk while tending to the wounded.

Soren himself had already been injured, yet he hadn’t noticed the blade sinking into him. Or perhaps he had noticed but simply didn’t react. He hadn’t made a fuss and complained.

In fact, Soren had never once said he was in pain.

Not once.

Looking back, there had been countless signs for Cael to know about it. There are so many opportunities for Cael to see the truth, to question or understand that sothing was deeply wrong.

But he hadn’t as he hadn’t realized it at all.

Worse than that, Cael knew he had added to Soren’s suffering. Though not physically, but emotionally. His coldness, harsh words and his indifference. Thinking about it now made his chest feel tight, almost suffocating.

There had been so many chances to notice. And he had missed every single one.

Going back to the present, Cael never did feel entertained and intrigued anymore. When Soren was gone, it was just a frustrating day for Cael to the point that he couldn’t stay in one place anymore but to do sothing else just to unwind every other minute or else, his thought will only go deeper towards Soren.

Unfortunately for him, when Cael also discovered that Soren was actually been subjective to sexual assault, his guilt deepened.

"So, who else were involved with you, Viscount? Are you deaf?" Cael’s voice turned sharp while losing the lazy calm from earlier. "Do you even realize who you’re speaking to?"

He then tilted his head slightly while his tone was lowering into sothing far more dangerous. "You’d better tell everything in one breath. If I have to ask twice, your death won’t be quick."

Cael also bent down while gripping Viscount yer’s chin and forcing his face up that their eyes t at an uncomfortably close distance. The prince’s glare was icy and rciless, close enough that the viscount could feel his breath against his skin.

The tension alone made him tremble even harder.

"Go on," Cael murmured coldly. "Why don’t you whisper their nas into my ear? At least make your death useful, yes?"

"I...I’ll..." the Viscount stuttered with trembling voice. "Will y-you spare if I tell you everything, Your Highness?"