Good Healer

Luma town was abuzz. News of Old Mrs. Gable's miraculous recovery, fueled by whispers of "pleasure massage" administered by young Dray, spread through the village like wildfire. The reaction was, predictably, a chaotic mix of awe, disbelief, scandalized curiosity, and outright mockery.

The younger villagers, especially those prone to aches and pains from farm work, were cautiously intrigued. "Pleasure healing, you say?" young Thomas, the carpenter's apprentice, asked Kray hesitantly one morning, catching him near the well. "Does it… really work?" His eyes darted around nervously, as if afraid of being overheard.

Kray, emboldened by Mrs. Gable's testimonial and a growing trickle of Love Points from his animal massages, stood a little taller. "It does seem to help with pain and stiffness," he replied, keeping his tone deliberately vague. He wasn't ready to fully explain the "pleasure" aspect to just anyone, especially not the village lads who were more likely to spread ribald jokes than genuine curiosity.

"And… the pleasure part?" Thomas pressed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Is it… really pleasurable?"

Kray's cheeks flushed a familiar shade of red. "It's… relaxing," he mumbled, avoiding direct eye contact. "Very relaxing." He quickly changed the subject, inquiring about Thomas's carpentry projects, eager to steer the conversation away from the potentially scandalous aspects of his healing method.

The women of Luma, however, were a different story. They were less concerned with ribald jokes and more interested in tangible relief. Many suffered from chronic aches – from years of arduous housework, farm labor, and childbirth – ailments that dandelion tea and hopeful wishes did little to soothe. They observed Mrs. Gable's newfound mobility with keen interest and whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones at the market.

Elara, the baker's daughter, now sporting a significantly less swollen ankle thanks to Kray's impromptu, post-fainting massage, became an enthusiastic, if somewhat embarrassed, advocate. "Honestly," she confided to a group of women gathered near the well, her voice low but fervent, "it was… strange, but it really helped. My ankle felt so much better afterwards. And… well, it did feel… quite nice." She blushed furiously, avoiding details, but her words sparked a definite ripple of intrigued whispers amongst her listeners.

Soon, a tentative trickle of female clients started approaching Kray. First, it was Widow Willow, whose back had been perpetually knotted since her husband's passing. Then, Martha, the weaver, plagued by aching wrists from years at the loom. And then, surprisingly, even the blacksmith's wife, Bertha, known for her stoicism and skepticism, appeared at their farmhouse door, complaining of a persistent shoulder stiffness.

Kray's kitchen became a makeshift massage room, filled with the scent of his herbal attempts mingling with a new, less tangible aroma – the subtle scent of female anxieties and hesitant hopes mingled with something akin to… anticipation? He tried to maintain a professional demeanor, focusing on the healing aspect, but the inherent intimacy of massage, the soft touches, the hushed sighs and murmured thanks of his female clients, constantly reminded him of the perverted undertones of his skill.

Not everyone, however, was swayed by Mrs. Gable's recovery or the hesitant testimonials of Kray's new clients. The older, more traditional villagers remained deeply skeptical, muttering about "newfangled nonsense" and "indecent practices." And leading the charge of skepticism, with the unwavering conviction of tradition, was Elder Maeva, Luma town's esteemed herbalist.

Elder Maeva was a woman of formidable presence, her face a roadmap of wrinkles etched by years of sun and wisdom, her eyes sharp and discerning, her voice deep and resonant. She had been Luma's healer for decades, dispensing herbal remedies, poultices, and age-old folk wisdom. She viewed Kray's sudden popularity with thinly veiled disdain, seeing his "pleasure massage" as a frivolous fad, a dangerous departure from time-honored healing practices.

"Charlatanry!" she declared loudly one afternoon in the town square, addressing a gathering of villagers. Her voice boomed across the square, silencing the usual midday chatter. "Young Dray's 'pleasure healing' is nothing but quackery! Herbs and time-tested remedies are the true path to healing, not these… these… sensual manipulations he's peddling!" She spat the word "sensual" with open disgust.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some nodded in agreement, clinging to the familiar comfort of tradition. Others shifted uncomfortably, glancing towards Kray's farm in the distance, remembering Mrs. Gable's improved mobility and their own persistent aches.

"But Elder Maeva," young Elara dared to pipe up, her voice trembling slightly, "Mrs. Gable is walking without her stick now! And my ankle… it healed much faster after Dray's… massage."

Maeva fixed Elara with a withering glare that could curdle milk. "Coincidence, child! Or perhaps the power of suggestion! These… pleasure massages… they prey on the weak-minded, offering fleeting sensations instead of true healing. Mark my words, this will lead to nothing but trouble, and likely more indecency than actual recovery!"

Her words hung heavy in the air, fueling the existing whispers and solidifying the "pervert healer" label that had begun to attach itself to Kray. Many villagers, swayed by Maeva's authority and the inherent scandal of "pleasure healing," became even more dismissive, reinforcing their mockery and skepticism.

Kray, hearing about Maeva's public denouncement from a sympathetic neighbor, felt a familiar pang of humiliation. But this time, it was tempered with a newfound resolve. He had tasted the tangible effects of his skill, witnessed the relief it brought, and even felt the warmth of genuine gratitude from his clients. Elder Maeva's words, though cutting, felt… less impactful than the jeers of the crowd had once been.

He wouldn't let the negativity deter him. He wouldn't let Elder Maeva's scorn diminish the nascent hope that was beginning to bloom within him. He had a path now, a purpose, even if it was unconventional, even if it was… perverted. He would focus on refining his skill, on helping those who sought his unconventional healing, and on proving, through actions rather than words, the validity of his unique, pleasure-infused path to wellness.

Ignoring the whispers, the skepticism, and Elder Maeva's public disapproval, Kray continued to hone his [Pleasure] skill. He practiced on animals, he massaged his mother and sister, and he diligently attended to his growing clientele, mostly women at this point, drawn by a mixture of desperation, curiosity, and perhaps, a secret, unspoken desire for a little… pleasure along with their healing. He was, after all, the Pervert Healer of Luma town, and he was just getting started.

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Name : Kray(18)

Class : Healer

Level : 1 (0/10)

LP (Love Points) : 5+3

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Skills : [Pleasure : Lvl 1]