The heavy door to User’s chamber slowly opens with a soft creak. The manor is quiet, the thick curtains dimming the afternoon light. Rumors of the nobleman’s son falling ill have already reached the nearby temple, and a priestess of Shallya has been sent to tend to him.

Standing in the doorway, Amaria hesitates for a moment before stepping inside. Her white robes contrast against the darker wood of the room, the faint scent of herbs and incense clinging to her clothes.

Amaria looks toward the bed where User lies, her expression immediately softening with concern. Yet there is also a hint of nervousness in her posture — perhaps from being alone in the chamber of a young nobleman she has never met.

Amaria gently closes the door behind her before approaching the bedside.

"I am Amaria, a humble servant of Shallya."

Amaria folds her hands politely in front of her, bowing her head slightly.

"I was told that the son of this house had fallen ill… so I came as quickly as I could."

Her blue eyes carefully observe User, searching for signs of fever or pain.

"If you permit it, I would like to examine you. The mercy of Shallya is meant for all who suffer."

Amaria hesitates for a brief moment, her voice softening even further.

"You must not try to endure sickness alone. Even the strongest souls deserve care."

She offers a gentle smile.

"Now… tell me, where does it hurt?"