[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke-Chapter 188: Xion Has a Crush on His Grace

The door to the lab creaked open.

Xion stepped out carrying the weight of a large bag hanging at his shoulders. It was packed with potions, scrolls, and tools he carefully selected.

The cool morning breeze brushed past him like a greeting, tugging lightly at the hem of his new white shirt.

For a moment, he could only stand there, taking in the sight quietly.

The valley stretching before him was the same battleground where orcs and humans had fought to the death just hours ago. And now, it was bathed in a soft golden hue as if the previous destruction was just an illusion.

The sun had barely risen, still nestled low on the horizon like a shy guest peeking through the curtains of the world. Light spilled over the treetops in warm, gentle waves, brushing the sky with hues of lavender, peach, and blush-pink.

It was beautiful. No, it was breathtaking.

The kind of beauty that made you forget any nuisance, even just for a second. That made you pause mid-thought, mid-step, mid-exhaustion, just to feel.

He hadn’t realized just how long he’d been inside.

In the lab, time passed differently. Ten hours in the lab equalled one in the real world. And yet, even with that advantage, it had felt like he’d been away for a long time.

And now out here... everything felt new to him.

He instinctively let out a slow breath. His nostrils were filled with the intoxicating scent of earth freshly wet with the dew.

A few breaths in such a peaceful sight and his mind felt clearer than it had been in days.

"Alright," he murmured, shifting the strap of the bag to a more comfortable position. "Let’s give it a shot."

The path ahead was long, maybe even suicidal. If he failed, it wouldn’t just be Darius who suffered. His own life would be on the line too.

But even considering that, one thing was clear to him. There was no more time to waste.

Xion was soon back in the camp. His boots crunched over broken twigs and damp leaves, each step echoing faintly in the still air.

Morning had only just begun, but the camp was already stirring with movement.

The aftermath of the previous night’s chaos still lingered. People were bustling between tents, carrying herbs and bandages.

Knights patrolled with tense vigilance, double-checking barricades. Without a doubt, they all were wary of another attack.

The soft murmur of voices mixed with the occasional clang of armor and the low groans of the wounded filled the air.

As he walked through the camp, he could feel the weight of countless eyes on him. Among them were members of Joy.

Xion silently bowed his head slightly, his fingers curled over the straps of his bag as he quickened his pace.

Yet, the longer he walked, the heavier those gazes became.

But it wasn’t the kind of heaviness he had braced himself for. It wasn’t judgment, nor suspicion. In fact, it wasn’t negative at all.

The people around him were actually grateful. If not for him, many of them would have been digging graves this morning instead of tending to the living.

And then there was the healing. Xion had treated injuries without hesitation, charging only a single copper.

Truthfully, even if he had demanded silver, they would’ve paid without complaint.

Aside from their gratitude, there was something else flickering behind the many glances sent his way... curiosity.

Xion’s clothes, though the simplest he could find, still looked nothing like what anyone around here wore. A white shirt paired with fitted black pants.

Just one look and they could tell that the fabric was far too refined, the cut too sharp. It was subtle, but it still stood out all the same.

Who dressed Lord Xion like that? More importantly, where did one even get clothes like that?

But of course, no one dared to ask. They could not afford the ire if they accidentally made Lord Xion angry.

Xion, unaware of the hushed conversations and curious glances trailing behind him, headed straight for the central tent surrounded by many knights.

"You’re finally back!"

Ray was the first to notice him. But the little purple-haired shadow darted forward before anyone else could move.

Noxian was already at his side in the next heartbeat.

"Brother! Let me carry your bag. It must be heavy, right?"

Xion just smiled while skillfully sidestepping the boy’s outstretched hands. Those dim eyes tugged at something deep in his chest, but even so, he couldn’t let Noxian touch the contents.

"You can’t," Xion said gently, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. "Not unless you’ve sanitized your hands."

By now, both Allen and Noxian were well-acquainted with Xion’s near-obsessive cleanliness. Rumors floated around camp that Lord Xion wouldn’t even sit on a chair if someone else had touched it.

While most of it was exaggerated nonsense, the root cause wasn’t entirely false.

After all, he had been staying by the Archduke’s side and Darius openly disliked others’ touch more than anyone.

"Ah, got it." Noxian’s dim eyes lit up. As long as his brother didn’t avoid him like he did a few hours ago, everything was fine.

Despite the smile, Xion had no plans of letting the kid follow him into the tent.

As he pushed past the flap of the heavy curtain, a sharp, metallic stench hit him square in the face. It was blood.

His gaze immediately fell on the crimson-stained garments folded neatly to the side along with used bandages stacked beside them.

Behind the partition, Allen sat silently beside the tub to keep an eye on his grace. He didn’t speak as Xion entered, only gave him a nod.

And there, in the center of it all, lay Darius.

He was submerged in the special healing potion. The glowing blue liquid shimmered with the pulse of magic.

But the man inside it... looked drained. His skin had turned even paler than usual, so much so that the contrast with the potion made him look like a ghost barely clinging to life.

His long hair was carelessly sprawled over the edge of the bathtub before falling onto the carpet.

Despite his state, there was something eerie — something too perfect about him.

A vampire. That was the first word that floated through Xion’s mind. Regal, dangerous, beautiful. Even in his weakest state, the archduke radiated that same unsettling grace.

Then, just as Xion took a step forward, Darius’s eyelashes twitched before they cracked open.

Green and blue — like forest and sky. So different, and yet, when their eyes met, it was as if the elements themselves collided... and settled into harmony.

Xion froze.

His entire body locked in place like someone had slammed the pause button on him.

His heart, a traitorous organ that it was, decided this was the perfect time to attempt acrobatics in his ribcage. Loudly at that.

For a split second, he forgot why he was even here.

This was fine. Totally fine. Just the dangerously beautiful, possibly immortal man he may or may not have risked his entire existence for staring directly into his soul. No big deal.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Abort mission. Brain, please reboot!

Xion’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white.

Don’t be a fool. Don’t pull a Sakura. You will die.

He tried to steady his breath, to remember that he was a professional doctor, or healer in this case. Not a teen protagonist in a badly written romance novel with sparkles in his eyes and no survival skills.

Although Xion indeed was not skilled in martial arts and fighting, at least he was aware that if wanted to live a peaceful life he should avoid the nobles. Even if the said noble was the hottest person he had ever seen.

Xion, "..." Why am I thinking like a pervert? Idiot!

Finally scolding himself enough, his thoughts circled back to the beginning of it all.

Not in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine the first person he might develop a crush on would be this terrifying.

When had it started? Maybe when he’d been caught off guard by Darius’s absurdly handsome face. Or maybe it was that moment Darius saved him from Soren and Nikolai with no hesitation.

His grace had even stood between him and the emperor. And the Vaelis family. Again and again.

Now that he was thinking about it... maybe it was all of it.

All those little things stacked up until they quietly became something more. Until running into danger to protect Darius felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Like an idiot, he even jumped in front of that orc without any care for his own life!

It is really so absurd.

"You are late."

Xion came back to the present when the low baritone voice with perfect roughness at the edges drilled into his ear.

Ah. There it is. That voice again. That stupidly unfair, hot voice that made his ears tingle like a damn teenager hearing his crush say their name.

Despite the strong urge to smack his own forehead and possibly crawl into a nearby bush, Xion walked forward with a faint smile. "I’m not, Your Grace."