The atmosphere outside the Healing Hall shifted the moment the first two patients emerged.
Brennar with his perfectly restored arm.
Marella, with her breathing, lively infant pressed to her chest.
Two miracles — witnessed by dozens.
A ripple of awe moved through the waiting line like a gust of wind, stirring excitement, hope, and disbelief all at once. People leaned forward, whispering urgently to one another. Some clutched their chests in prayer; others rose on their toes to see better. A few even took an instinctive step closer to the entrance.
But the ring of armored guards surrounding the hall remained steady and imposing.
Spears crossed gently but firmly, reminding everyone that no matter how desperate, how eager, or how overwhelmed they felt…
Order must be maintained.
So the citizens of Eddleguard swallowed their excitement, tucked their trembling hands close, and waited — hearts pounding, breaths shallow, eyes fixed on the wooden doors that had just released two miracles into the world.
The line no longer felt like a simple queue.
It felt like a living, breathing thing — taut with anticipation, humming with hope.
Inside the Healing Hall, another day of quiet miracles was only just beginning.
Patients came in one after another.
A man with shattered ribs.
A young woman whose arm had been crushed under a cart.
A cook with blistering burns covering half his torso.
An elderly mason is coughing up traces of blood from internal bruising.
No matter who stepped into the Healing Hall, they left whole — astonished, grateful, and whispering praise that spread through the streets like wildfire.
By the time the sun reached its peak, casting warm rays through the stained-glass windows, midday had arrived.
Saphy let out a tiny breath. Her mana remained nearly full — an impressive 99% — but her stomach, on the other hand, gave a soft but unmistakable growl.
She pressed a hand against her abdomen, cheeks puffing slightly in embarrassment.
So this is what happens when you're stuck in a tiny child's body…
Hunger always came faster.
Sir Alaric noticed her shift in the chair. "Lady Sapphire? Are you feeling unwell?"
Saphy shook her head lightly. "No… just a little hungry. It's almost lunch time."
Alaric smiled faintly, relieved. "That is easily fixed. Shall we prepare a short break for you, my lady?"
Saphy shook her head again, more firmly this time.
"I don't want any serious patients to suffer while I'm eating," she said softly. Then she glanced toward the entrance, expression thoughtful. "Could you ask one of the guards to check outside? If there are any emergency cases — anyone with life-threatening injuries — please bring them to me first."
Sir Alaric straightened, placing a hand over his chest in a respectful salute.
"At once. I'll send someone immediately."
Saphy nodded with a small smile. "Thank you. After I treat any emergencies… I'll take my lunch break."
Alaric allowed himself the smallest hint of a warm smile. "Very responsible of you, my lady. We'll handle the rest."
As he strode toward the doorway to relay her instructions, Saphy's stomach rumbled again. She pressed both hands against it this time, cheeks reddening.
Evelyn, the bubbly nun assistant nearby, suppressed a giggle.
"Lady Sapphire… shall I prepare tea and a snack to hold you over?"
Saphy's eyes sparkled. "Yes, please."
Even miracles needed fuel — especially when the miracle worker was a hungry little girl.
A few minutes after Sir Alaric gave the instruction, one of the household soldiers returned — not with one person, but six.
All six were clearly in urgent condition:
A man clutching his side, breathing in short, painful gasps.
A woman with blood-soaked bandages along her leg.
A young boy whose arm hung limp and unnaturally twisted.
An elderly woman with burn marks darkening half her shoulder.
Two miners, bruised from a recent collapse.
The moment they were brought toward the front, the waiting line stirred.
Whispers rose first.
Then grumbles.
Then clear notes of dissatisfaction.
"What—? Why are they cutting the line?"
"We've been waiting for hours!"
"Is this fair?"
"I came early! Why are they passing ahead of us?"
Even if the crowd didn't dare act rashly — not with dozens of knights guarding the hall — the frustration was unmistakable.
The soldier escorting the injured stopped mid-step, let out a long, weary sigh, and turned to face the crowd.
He raised his voice just enough for everyone to hear, but kept it calm and firm.
"Everyone, listen carefully."
The murmuring quieted.
"Lady Sapphire has been working nonstop since morning. And you must not forget—"
He paused, scanning the crowd meaningfully.
"—She is still five years old."
A ripple of silence spread.
Some people lowered their heads, guilt pricking their hearts.
The soldier continued,
"These six are in critical condition. If we let them wait any longer, their lives may be in danger. Lady Sapphire will attend to them first."
He shifted his weight, lowering his voice slightly, not unkind.
"After she treats these emergencies, she will be taking her lunch break."
People exchanged glances — a few embarrassed, a few sheepish.
"In the meantime," the soldier added, lifting a brow, "you may do whatever you wish. It's nearly lunch. Go eat something, rest, or stretch your legs. The line will resume once Lady Sapphire returns."
With that, he gave a respectful nod and turned to escort the injured inside.
The crowd slowly dispersed into small groups, the earlier grumbling replaced by understanding — and a deeper appreciation for the tiny healer who had been working tirelessly for them since sunrise.
After the six people came out looking good as new, the doors of the Healing Hall closed firmly behind them.
A wave of murmurs rippled through the waiting crowd. Some people dispersed to sit or eat the lunches they had brought from home, while others stayed near the entrance, hoping to keep their place in line.
Inside the hall…
One of the nuns approached Saphy with a gentle bow.
"Lady Sapphire, should we fetch meals from the church kitchen?"
Saphy quickly shook her head.
"No need. I already brought chefs from home — and ingredients as well."
She smiled softly. "This is exactly why I built a big kitchen in the hall. We'll take care of everyone."
About half an hour later, the back doors opened with a soft creak as servants pushed out carts piled high with food.
The soldiers and Astley knights relaxed at the familiar sight — but the Church guards, the Templar Knights, and even members of the Royal Guard stared with open curiosity.
The dishes weren't refined noble cuisine.
Just simple comfort foods:
• crispy chicken fry
• several varieties of potato chips
• golden french fries
On the side were small bowls of condiments: ketchup, mayo, mixed sauce, and a rich cheese sauce.
There was also a makeshift sandwich, put together using crude local bread.
The filling was simple but enticing — a chicken breast pounded flat, deep-fried, topped with a fresh tomato slice, a thin slice of cheese, and a drizzle of mixed sauce.
Even though the aroma filled the hall and the food looked irresistibly tempting, the guards remained stiff and disciplined, hands still on their weapons, eyes forward.
Saphy couldn't help but giggle quietly as she watched several of them gulp.
"Everyone," she said gently, "there's no need to be so reserved. I brought plenty of ingredients from home. Enough for all of you — please, enjoy."
With that, Saphy gave a small nod to the red-haired female knight at her side.
Rista stepped forward, clearing her throat confidently as all eyes turned to her.
"These dishes may look unusual," she said, "but don't worry — I'll explain how they're eaten."
The moment Saphy took that first dainty bite of the sandwich, a subtle but unmistakable shift rippled through the hall.
A single crunch, a faint squeeze of the juicy tomato, the soft melt of cheese combined with the crispy, golden chicken… it was enough.
One by one, the guards and knights followed suit, hesitantly at first.
Marielle's eyes widened as she bit into a piece of chicken fry. A warm, rich flavor coated her tongue, the savory crispiness perfectly balanced by a hint of seasoning and the tangy drizzle of mixed sauce. She let out a soft, involuntary sigh. "This… this is incredible," she whispered, almost to herself.
Liora took a bite of fries dipped in cheese sauce. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I've… I've never tasted anything like this before. So… comforting."
Evelyn, of course, had already sampled a sandwich and was practically bouncing in delight. "Oh wow! The bread is soft but sturdy, the chicken so crunchy… and that sauce! I could eat a hundred of these!"
The Church guards were far more stoic, but even they couldn't hide it. One veteran guard muttered under his breath, "By the Seven Virtues… this is… exquisite." Another carefully tore a piece of chicken, dipping it into ketchup. The moment it touched his mouth, his eyes nearly rolled back from the burst of flavor. A faint, appreciative groan escaped him. A younger guard looked around nervously, as if tasting a forbidden treasure. "I… I didn't know simple food could be this… perfect…"
The Templar Knights had expected nothing special, just sustenance. Instead, the sandwich and fries hit like a revelation. One knight chewed slowly, savoring every layer — the crispy fried chicken, the sweet juiciness of the tomato, the mellow melt of cheese, and the kick of mixed sauce. He let out a long, contented hum, almost embarrassed at how much he was enjoying it. Another dunked a chip into the cheese sauce, crunching sharply. His eyes lit up like a child discovering candy for the first time. "This… this is sinful. Sinfully good!"
Even Conor Barrete, usually so composed, allowed himself the smallest flicker of surprise as he tasted a chicken fry dipped in mayo. He blinked, then slowly chewed, analyzing the texture and flavor. "Crisp, juicy… the seasoning… subtle yet perfect." He exhaled softly, almost in relief, as though the meal itself was a balm. A junior guard beside him bit into a sandwich and froze mid-chew, wide-eyed. "It… It's like… a perfect balance of everything!"
The hall quickly filled with murmurs, soft exclamations, and quiet laughter. Plates emptied, fingers wiped clean, and even the most disciplined knights and guards stole second bites before anyone could notice.
Saphy watched it all with a small, proud smile. Her simple creations — humble by appearance, extraordinary by flavor — had united everyone in a moment of pure, shared delight.
Even in a hall built for healing, today, food itself had performed miracles.
At last, the meal drew to a close. The final touch — ice-cold orange soda — was brought out, glasses fizzing and glinting in the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows.
One by one, the knights, guards, and nuns raised their glasses. The first sip was electric: the tangy sweetness tingled on their tongues, the icy chill sliding pleasantly down their throats.
Evelyn squealed softly in delight. "Ahh! This is amazing! So refreshing!"
Even the usually stoic Conor allowed a faint, approving hum as the cool liquid cut through the richness of the meal. "Unexpected… but perfect," he murmured, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
The templar knight who had declared the sandwich "sinfully good" just leaned back, eyes closed, savoring the combination of flavors, letting out a contented sigh. "I could get used to this," he muttered.
Marielle giggled softly, clinking her glass lightly against Rista's. "It's… perfect. Everything tastes so good together!"
Saphy watched quietly, her small smile warm and satisfied. From the first bite to the last sip of soda, it had been more than a meal — it had been a moment of comfort, joy, and simple happiness shared by everyone in the hall.
Even the most disciplined soldiers and knights, for once, had let themselves enjoy it fully. It was, Saphy thought, the perfect ending.
Even though the new dishes had left an overwhelming impression on everyone, Saphy herself wasn't satisfied.
Munching thoughtfully on the sandwich, she frowned slightly, her small fingers absently pressing the edges of the bread as she chewed.
"These breads…" she murmured under her breath, almost to herself, "they're made with baking powder and baking soda… no yeast yet."
She took another careful bite, shaking her head slightly. "Yeast… yeast bread has that fluffiness, that softness… this… this doesn't have it. It's missing… something. Life."
Saphy set the half-eaten sandwich down, her small lips pursed in thought. "I'll find yeast someday. Then I'll make bread that's perfect — soft, light, and airy… something everyone will want more of. Even better than this."
She let out a quiet sigh, the faintest hint of frustration in her voice. "Even if it tastes good… It's not perfect. Not yet."
Her sapphire eyes gleamed with quiet determination. "One day, I'll make it perfect. I won't settle for anything less."
After lunch was over, the hall doors opened once again. Soon, patients began arriving one after another, each bringing new ailments.
A fisherman limped in, his leg twisted from a recent accident at sea. A young woman carried a swollen wrist, bruised and sore from a fall while fetching water. An elderly man coughed violently, clearly suffering from severe bronchitis. A small boy limped in with a scraped knee and fever. One young laborer staggered forward, his arms burned from a furnace accident, and a mother hurried in with her coughing toddler, cheeks flushed with high fever.
Saphy moved calmly between them, hands glowing faintly as she healed broken bones, soothed burns, and restored weary bodies. Her tiny figure barely seemed to contain the soft, radiant magic flowing from her.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened. Dusk approached, painting the cobblestone streets in long shadows. The patients, conscious enough to respect her generosity, began leaving on their own, murmuring quiet thanks. In their minds, Saphy had already been kind enough to provide free healthcare — they did not want her to overwork herself.
Saphy herself prepared to leave. She had no intention of working through the night. With a small wave, she asked a soldier standing nearby, "Please inform the people outside — I will resume tomorrow morning."
The soldier bowed and nodded, hurrying to pass the message along.
As Saphy tidied the Healing Hall, arranging her things with meticulous care, one of the nuns — the cheerful, energetic Evelyn — approached, tilting her head curiously.
"My lady," she asked, bouncing slightly on her heels, "so… have you decided on a name?"
Saphy looked up, mildly puzzled. "A name? What do you mean?"
"The Healing Hall," Evelyn said with a grin. "It doesn't have a name yet."
Saphy tilted her head, shrugging nonchalantly. "Does it really need one?"
"Yes, yes! It needs a fitting name!" Evelyn insisted, clasping her hands together.
Another nun, Marielle, chimed in more seriously, "We can't just call it… 'The healing hall.' It's not a name, it's the discretion."
Saphy raised a brow. "Alright… then let me hear your suggestions."
Evelyn's hand shot up immediately. "How about… The Hall of Eternal Sunshine!" She nodded vigorously. "It's cheerful and inviting!"
Liora, ever the practical one, suggested softly, "The Place of Soothing Hands?" She glanced at the others, unsure if it sounded too dramatic.
Celestine frowned slightly, thinking. "The Miracle Hall," she offered. "Short, simple, memorable."
Marielle, trying to sound dignified, said, "Sanctuary of Healing Light." She blushed immediately at how formal it sounded.
Evelyn bounced again. "Nooo! Too serious! Too boring! I vote for… The Happy Hall!"
Another quick chirp came from Rista, who had been watching silently. "The Hall of Helping Hands!" She folded her arms, looking proud of her suggestion.
Saphy listened to the flurry of suggestions, her small hands tightening slightly on the table. She couldn't hide a faint sigh — the names were… well, chaotic, to say the least.
Exasperated, she closed her eyes and muttered softly to herself, "How about… Sanctum Medica Heim?"
The nuns blinked, exchanging puzzled looks. "Sanctum… Medica… Heim?" Evelyn repeated slowly, her voice uncertain. "What does it mean, my lady?"
Saphy opened her eyes, her sapphire gaze calm and composed. "It's from an ancient language," she explained. "Sanctum means 'holy place.' Medica refers to healing and medicine. And Heim… it means 'home' or 'safe place.' Together, it is… the 'Holy Home of Healing.' A place where anyone in need can find care and safety."
The nuns' eyes widened as they processed the words, their earlier chatter falling silent. Liora tilted her head, absorbing the elegance of it. "It… it sounds perfect."
Marielle's lips curved into a gentle smile. "It's dignified, respectful… and fitting for Lady Sapphire's hall."
Evelyn, still blinking at the strange language, finally grinned. "It's… actually really cool. I like it!"
Even Rista, ever blunt, gave a small nod of approval. "Simple, strong… I can respect that."
Saphy gave a small nod in return, satisfied. "Then it's settled. From now on, this hall shall be known as Sanctum Medica Heim."
A quiet sense of reverence settled over the room. The nuns moved about with renewed energy, tidying the hall with purpose, as if the name itself imbued the space with a new, solemn importance.
Outside, dusk deepened into evening. The last of the patients had left, the line dispersed, and the Healing Hall stood quietly, its windows glowing faintly with the soft light of magic. Inside, Saphy tidied the last of her things, the hall now hers in name and spirit.
As she looked around, a small, satisfied smile curved her lips. This was just the beginning. Sanctum Medica Heim would stand as a beacon of hope and healing for all who needed it.
The first day of miracles was over, and a new chapter had begun.