The first explosion happened at dawn.
It wasn't a dramatic blast that shattered walls or sent smoke into the sky. This one was sharp, contained, and precise.
And it came from inside my clinic.
I was halfway through reorganizing the supply shelves when the window behind me shattered inward.
Glass covered the floor.
I turned just in time to see a pink-haired girl tumble through the opening, hit the ground in a clumsy roll, and slam shoulder-first into the leg of the treatment bed.
She groaned loudly.
"Ow. Okay. That… definitely cursed harder than expected."
I stared.
She lay sprawled on the stone floor, one leg bent at an unnatural angle, faint purple symbols crawling up her arm like living ink. Smoke curled from a singed sleeve.
"…Are you alive?" I asked.
She lifted her head, bright amber eyes fixing on me with intense focus.
"Oh good," she said cheerfully. "You're in."
"You broke my window."
"Yeah, sorry about that." She waved her hand weakly. "I'll pay for it. Or fix it. Or enchant it to explode less next time."
"Next time?" I echoed.
She grinned. "Optimism."
I moved quickly, kneeling beside her before my brain could process how absurd the situation was.
"Don't move," I said. "You've fractured your leg and—"
"Ooo, you can see that already?" she interrupted, eyes lighting up. "Nice. Is that part of your pleasure-healing thing or are you just observant?"
"Both," I muttered. "What's your name?"
"Lyra Vex," she said brightly. "Second year. Curse specialization. Frequent flyer."
That explained everything.
I placed my hand near—but not on—her leg, letting my diagnostic sense activate.
Multiple curse feedback loops. Magical backlash. Minor internal bleeding. And…
I frowned.
"…You cursed yourself," I said slowly.
She winced. "Define 'cursed.'"
"You etched a recursive hex into your casting array," I continued. "It rebounded. Hard."
She shrugged as much as she could while lying on the floor. "Science."
I looked at her flatly.
"Mad science," she added.
I shifted my hand closer, allowing contact. The warmth flowed instantly, the glow brighter than I expected.
[Patient Receptiveness: 38%]
[Curse Interference: Moderate]
Lyra sucked in a sharp breath.
"Oh. Wow," she said. "Okay, yeah, that's different."
"Different how?"
"Like… my nerves just woke up," she said, eyes widening. "That's wild."
I focused, channeling the warmth carefully, unraveling the broken curse threads first. Her leg realigned with a soft crack as bone knitted itself back together.
She gasped—not in pain, but in surprise.
[Healing Output: Moderate]
[Structural Damage: Stabilized]
"Hold still," I said.
"I am holding still," she protested. "I'm just… verbally enthusiastic."
I snorted despite myself and adjusted the flow, targeting the bleeding next. The glow pulsed in time with her heartbeat, steady and controlled.
Within minutes, the worst of her injuries were gone.
I withdrew my hand slowly.
"Alright," I said. "You're stable. Sit up carefully."
She did—then paused, blinking.
"…Huh."
"What?"
"It doesn't hurt," she said. "Like, at all. Usually after backlash I feel like garbage for hours."
"That's because I treated the underlying damage," I replied. "Not just the symptoms."
She looked at me as if I had performed a miracle.
"Oh, I like you."
I stiffened. "This was medical."
"Relax," she said, waving her hand. "I'm not flirting. Yet."
"Yet?"
She laughed, swinging her legs off the floor and hopping onto the bed with more energy than she should have had ten minutes ago.
"So," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "you're the infamous Pleasure Healer."
"I hate that title."
"Shame," she replied. "It's catchy."
I crossed my arms. "You broke into my clinic."
"Through the window," she corrected. "Doors are boring."
"And you injured yourself."
"On purpose? Yes."
"That is not acceptable," I said firmly. "I am not here to fix reckless experimentation."
She tilted her head. "You didn't say that when the combat students came in half-dead."
"They were injured in training," I said. "You—"
"—were injured in research," she finished. "Same difference."
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Damn it.
She smirked. "Thought so."
I sighed. "Why did you curse yourself?"
She leaned back on her hands, looking thoughtful. "Because I needed to know if your magic worked on curses."
"And?"
"And it does," she said happily. "Beautifully."
"That wasn't a reason," I said.
She glanced at me, then away.
"For the record," she added lightly, "I didn't plan to crash through your window. That part was an accident."
"Reassuring."
She chuckled, then grew more serious. "Look. Curse magic is messy. It's unstable by nature. Most healers won't touch it unless they're desperate."
"I noticed."
"Your magic doesn't suppress it," she said. "It rewrites it. That's huge."
I frowned. "You summarized that from one session?"
"I analyze everything," she said. "It's how I stay alive."
There was a beat of silence.
Then she grinned again. "Also, I was curious."
"About?"
"Whether the rumors were true," she said bluntly.
I rubbed my face. "Let me guess. Screaming?"
"Oh, totally fake," she said. "But the part about you being able to heal stuff no one else can? That checks out."
I looked at the shattered window, then back at her.
"You owe me repairs," I said.
"Deal," she replied immediately. "I'll enchant it to be curse-resistant."
"…You're banned from self-inflicted injuries," I added.
She pouted. "Define 'self-inflicted.'"
I gave her a look.
She laughed. "Kidding. Mostly."
I stood, grabbing a spare robe and tossing it to her. "Get dressed. And next time, knock."
She caught it easily. "No promises."
The door knocked sharply before I could respond.
I turned just as Headmistress Valentina Cross stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on the broken window.
"…Explain," she said.
Lyra raised her hand cheerfully. "Hi! I fell."
Valentina's gaze turned to her. "You are?"
"Lyra Vex. Curse track. Second year. Currently not bleeding thanks to your healer."
Valentina looked back at me.
I sighed. "She tested my curse interaction. Without permission."
Valentina studied Lyra for a long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
"Bold," she said. "Reckless. But informative."
Lyra beamed. "Thank you!"
Valentina turned to me. "She stays."
"What?"
"She stays," Valentina repeated. "Under observation. You will document everything. Curse interactions are rare data points."
Lyra pumped a fist. "Yes!"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "This is my life now."
Valentina's smile widened slightly. "It will only get worse."
She turned to leave but paused.
"Oh," she added casually, "and Theo? Word reached the Church this morning."
I stiffened. "Already?"
"They are sending an observer," she said. "Arrives in three days."
The door closed behind her.
Silence followed.
Lyra blinked. "Wow. You're popular."
I stared at the broken window, the curse specialist on my bed, and the system quietly humming in my head.
Three days.
That was all it took for my life to become a political problem.
And somehow, I suspected Lyra Vex was going to make it much, much worse.