The Divine Healer and His Many Identities

Chapter 03

Two years earlier, a man had appeared at the clinic's door, desperate for help. His body was covered in painful sores, and after countless visits to different doctors, no one had been able to diagnose his condition. Word had reached him about the Divine Healer, so Daniel sought out the mysterious man.

However, the old healer wasn't there that day. Instead, it was Alistair—a young apprentice with striking green eyes and a mess of blond hair—who treated Daniel. Back then, Alistair was just learning, but now, with Master Alberich retired, he had taken over as the Divine Healer himself.

"Alistair Woods, I can't express how grateful I am!" Daniel said, a broad smile lighting up his face. "Look at me—my face is nothing like the last time you saw me, right? Thanks to you, I feel healthier than I've ever been!"

Daniel opened a worn leather bag he had brought with him and took out two wine bottles, each bearing an ornate, special red seal.

"These wines are something special, Mr. Woods," Daniel continued, leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially. "Consider them a token of my gratitude—they're worth about a hundred thousand dollars each."

Alistair could see the man's sincerity, but he was taken aback by such an extravagant gift. He hesitated, glancing at the bottles. "I appreciate your generosity, Daniel, but... why now, after two years? What made you decide to give me these wines today?"

Daniel's eyes twinkled mischievously, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "Well, you can't exactly visit your future father-in-law empty-handed, can you?"

Suddenly, it all made sense. Alistair nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. He accepted the bottles and set off for the Anderson residence.

The Andersons were a modest, middle-class family in town. Adam Anderson, clearly anxious, was waiting at the entrance and, upon seeing Alistair approach, engulfed him in a bear hug that nearly crushed the air out of his lungs.

"You've grown so much, Ally!" Adam exclaimed, beaming. "Come in, come in! Remember me?"

Alistair squinted slightly, combing through his memories. Adam’s face seemed familiar, but it was hazy.

"Ah, you were just a boy! I lived at the Woods residence for years after my family threw me out," Adam explained, his eyes softening. "Your father took me in when I had nowhere else to go, and I owe everything I am today to him."

"I think I do remember you," Alistair replied, an image of a kind man who used to play with him flickering briefly in his mind.

"Wonderful!" Adam beamed even wider. "Now, we need to head to the Public Registry Office right away to register your marriage with my daughter, Lisa."

A sharp voice cut through Adam's excitement. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself!"

Alistair turned to see the speaker: a woman dressed elegantly, her expression disdainful. Next to her stood a young woman with dark hair, her arms crossed tightly, eyes narrowed in displeasure.

"I'm not getting ahead of myself, woman! Ally here is the best partner our daughter could hope for!" Adam insisted, his enthusiasm unwavering.

The mother and daughter exchanged exasperated looks. "I don't understand what you see in this village boy," the woman sneered. "He has nothing."

Alistair, sensing the tension, decided to show the gifts that Daniel had entrusted to him. He didn’t particularly want to marry Lisa, but he couldn’t disobey an order from the Master. He presented the two bottles to Adam, who accepted them with a broad smile, oblivious to their true value. To Adam, it was enough that they were a gift from Alistair.

"What are these supposed to be?" Cathy, Lisa's mother, asked with a huff, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "Just a couple of bottles?"

Clearing his throat, Alistair explained, "Mrs. Anderson, these are bottles of 1982 Lafite wine."

Cathy took one of the bottles from her husband, inspecting it with a scornful expression before scoffing audibly. "That's even more absurd!" she said, her voice dripping with derision.

Adam frowned, clearly confused. While he wasn’t a wine expert, he knew enough to understand that Lafite wasn’t cheap.

"Cathy!" he scolded, but she merely curled her lip.

"You really expect us to believe that a poor village boy like you could afford such wines?" Cathy stepped closer to Alistair, her eyes filled with disdain. "Two bottles of Lafite? Each must cost at least fifty grand!"

Alistair met her gaze evenly. "A hundred," he corrected, his voice calm. "Each bottle is worth a hundred thousand dollars, Mrs. Anderson."

Cathy's eyes widened, her scorn faltering for a moment. She scrutinized the label again, clearly struggling to process his words. Silence hung in the air, heavy and tense.