As quickly as I regained consciousness, it slipped away again, casting back into the void. I couldn’t tell how much ti had passed since the encounter at the city gates, but when I finally woke for real, sothing felt wrong. My wrist was tight, bound too firmly for comfort.
The first thing that reached was the sll of herbs. Beneath it lingered sothing faintly sweet, almost pleasant. Curiosity stirred, but the mont I opened my eyes and grasped my situation, my heart sank.
The room was dark. A single thin ray of sunlight pushed through a crack in the window, its boards nailed shut, illuminating only the swirling dust in the air.
"Where... am I?" I whispered, dizziness clouding my head as I tried to pull my arms down. They were numb, left hanging in the air for far too long.
My wrists burned where coarse rope bit into them, tying to a thick wooden pole anchored in the ceiling. The more I struggled, the deeper it seared my skin.
"Mhm..." A faint moan drifted from the right, pulling my attention. I was sitting upright, giving a clear view.
There, in a bed so worn it looked ready to collapse, lay a young woman, about my age, in this body. Her complexion was pale, feverish, her breathing ragged.
She’s dying... Was my first thought. My instincts surged to life, drowning out my own predicant. I hardly cared about my ropes anymore; all I saw was the wound on her pelvis.
A deep cut, darkened to purple and black, spreading rot through the flesh. With dicine in this world, her fate was sealed. No surgeon here could save her. Only aggressive surgical removal of infected tissue could fix it. But here, with no antibiotics or sterile tools, her death is certain... Can I even do anything about it? I sank into thought, but the sound of the old door creaking open tore my focus away, spilling just enough light into the room to break the darkness.
My eyes t a tall, bulky figure. His hair was long, dark brown, and wild, as though it hadn’t seen a brush in years. His eyebrows were just as thick, shadowing his weary gaze. His eyes were brown, his age difficult to place... Perhaps fifty, maybe sixty? The thick beard and the ragged, worn-out clothes that hung on him like rags made him look even older.
He groaned when his eyes landed on , the sound carrying both annoyance and, strangely, a flicker of apology, or so it seed at first glance.
In his hands he carried a wooden tray. Resting on it was a ceramic bowl, steam rising in thin trails, the scent of fresh herbs filling the room the mont he stepped inside. The aroma struck hard, my mouth watering, saliva threatening to spill. Old instincts from my previous world must have been kicking in; it slled like soup.
Is that... for ? I wondered.
But the man turned instead toward the girl in the bed. I guess not...
Disappointnt pricked at , but curiosity followed close behind. Who was she to him? And more importantly... why was I the one tied up here, trapped in this room against my will?
From the many books I had read over the years, I knew there was no point in interfering, screaming for rcy, or even questioning his intentions if he hadn’t approached first. So I stayed quiet, watching, studying the situation carefully while trying to summon my powers to secretly manifest that scalpel again. With it, I should be able to cut through the ropes and escape once he left.
John, or so I assud his na was from the conversation near the gates, fed the girl. She barely managed to swallow, never even lifting her head. After so ti, he finally rose, his tall fra moving toward .
He reached behind himself, and for the first ti, I panicked. His hand ca out with a small knife, and with a single quick slash, too fast for to react, he cut across my wrist. Blood welled instantly, flowing into the ceramic bowl he held out. Numbness spread through my arm, dulling sensation until I felt nothing at all above the wrist. It happened too quickly for to even comprehend.
He caught the blood carefully, as though every drop mattered.
"I have to say..." His deep voice made the air tremble, or maybe that was my nerves. "...You’re tougher than I expected, and extrely mature for your age. But that’s to be expected from the royal vampire."
His words were heavy. My eyes widened. I tried to kick at him, but my strength betrayed . My body was far too weak to resist.
"Sorry for this. Just endure a little longer. I need you alive."
What happened next left stunned. After collecting my blood, he cut open his own wrist and tilted it over my head. His filthy fingers forced my mouth open, and warm liquid flooded in. The tallic taste filled my tongue, revolting and yet... intoxicating.
I wanted to spit it out, but my body betrayed . Why does it taste so good? My heart raced as vitality surged through , my limbs trembling with sudden strength. It was like magic. I had never tasted anything this intoxicating in my life.
And yet, the ropes held fast.
When he finally turned back to the girl, I glanced down at my own wrist and froze. The wound was gone. Healed completely, as though it had never existed.
"Who are you?" The question slipped out, conflicted. My heart couldn’t decide if I should thank him... or curse him.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he crushed several herbs between his fingers, tossing them into the blood-filled bowl, then soaked an old cloth in the mixture. Carefully, he pressed it against the girl’s festering wound.
My stomach twisted. Foreign blood introduced into a rotting wound should only worsen the infection. Does he want to kill her?! I almost scread at him to stop, but then I saw the impossible. Steam rose from the wound, dark and acrid, as though the rot itself was being burned away.
He repeated the process again and again, until the blackened flesh looked cleaner, the corruption eased. My mind reeled.
"What sort of magic is this?" I breathed, not aning to let it out loud.
But he heard . A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and his eyes t mine.
"This?" He set the bowl aside. "This is the grand healing technique of the Saint of dicine. Tell , are you curious enough to learn?"
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