According to Raka, the cases he had found that resembled Lucian’s were rare. However, they all shared the sa circumstances that led to it.
Most of them had worked in factories handling certain chemicals and had been exposed to a particular type of air over an extended period. They were predominantly older n, with the youngest in his late thirties — though given that Lucian’s exposure had apparently begun in his "teenage years," that discrepancy made sense.
"That’s why I’m asking if you ever worked in a factory." Raka looked at Lucian with a flat expression, sipping his coffee. "There’s no sha in it."
He delivered the diagnosis as casually as if comnting on the weather.
Ashley and Lucian processed his explanation in silence. She turned to Lucian, catching how tightly his brows were drawn together.
I don’t know much about his life before our marriage, she thought. But I can’t imagine he had any reason to work in a factory.
As far as she knew, Lucian had grown up privileged — the heir to the previous don of Dominion.
Lucian, for his part, knew with certainty that he had never worked in the conditions Raka was describing. He glanced at Ashley and gave a quiet shake of his head.
"Are you sure it’s just that?" Ashley asked, turning to Raka. "I an — if it’s sothing inhaled, how is he the only one affected?"
"Did you work in the sa factory?"
Ashley pressed her lips together. It was complicated. They had told Raka everything relevant — Lucian’s lifestyle, his insomnia, the broader picture. But there were things they couldn’t disclose, and it wasn’t because they feared Raka would talk.
It was because knowing more could put him in danger.
Silence settled over the office. Ashley turned it over in her mind while Lucian quietly watched Raka finish his coffee. Then, after a mont, Lucian asked the only question that truly mattered.
"Can it be cured?"
Ashley snapped out of her thoughts and looked up, eyes fixed on Raka.
Raka drank from his cup. He blinked at them, tilted his head, and held the cup loosely against his chest.
"You’re already treating it."
The couple stared at him.
"What?" Ashley blurted out.
Raka shook his head and set the cup down on the table. "Give more," he said, and — as if she were his personal attendant — Ashley refilled his cup without a word.
"You ntioned months ago that he was having trouble sleeping, which eventually progressed into insomnia," he began. "But because of his lifestyle changes and the tea he’d been taking, it served as a aningful intervention before the poison could fully compromise his system."
He cleared his throat and stood. "Here, let show you."
Raka picked up the results from his desk and returned to the couch across from them, spreading the imaging out on the table in chronological order.
"This is his first scan, from when he was initially diagnosed."
Lucian and Ashley leaned in, eyes moving across the images as Raka walked them through each one.
"As you can see, every scan after that is nearly identical — until he began taking the tea," he continued. "And this one here is after he started the liquid dication."
The couple studied the most recent result — the one that had set everything in motion. Their brows drew together.
"It looks... worse," Ashley murmured, glancing up at Raka. "I’m not an expert, but compared to the others, this one looks worse."
Raka nodded. "It does look worse. That’s exactly why his previous doctor revised his life expectancy from five years down to one month. But look at this part."
He pointed and circled specific areas, placing two images side by side.
"This earlier scan shows more of these cobweb formations — but here, in the recent one, they’re gone." He tapped the image. "And in these larger areas, the recent scan actually appears clearer than the first. It’s easy to assu that ans it’s gotten worse. But it’s the opposite."
To simplify: the first scan had looked cleaner because the poison had already seeped deep into Lucian’s organs and was destroying them from the inside. The recent scan appeared more pronounced because Lucian’s system had begun actively rejecting it, pushing it out.
"Hence the coughing up blood and the chest tightness," Raka said, stressing each word. "It wasn’t getting worse. That was his body’s only way of expelling the poison."
Silence fell over the office again.
They had never considered that it was even possible.
"The tea..." Ashley trailed off, looking up at Raka. "It was healing him?"
"Isn’t that why you had him take it?" Raka frowned. "I checked the components — it’s a well-balanced combination, not just for insomnia but for building immunity. It’s not sufficient on its own, but it made a significant difference."
For a mont, Ashley’s thoughts went blank. She pressed her lips together. Beside her, Lucian exhaled softly and smiled.
She saved again. Without even knowing it.
He was certain that he owed his life entirely to Ashley.
"Auntie Liza," Ashley whispered, her expression softening as she thought of the woman who had given her the tea and continued to supply it to this day — which was why everyone in their forces had been taking it.
Liza had made it specifically for her own husband: sothing for a stronger body and mind. Who could have known it would also be enough to save Lucian?
"The tea alone isn’t enough, though," Raka said, clapping once to draw their attention back. "I still need to prescribe him sothing. There may be more coughing up blood during treatnt, but my miracle pill is miraculous for a reason."
He smirked. "Once the course is done, I’ll give you a hundred percent guarantee he’ll be perfectly fine. Strong as a horse."
*****
Ashley and Lucian walked out of Raka’s research facility with smiles on their faces.
She bit her lip as she glanced at him, holding his arm. Even without a word, he understood what her heart was screaming.
"Still, I wonder what caused it," she murmured as they made their way to where their modified car was waiting. They got in — Ashley behind the wheel, Lucian in the passenger seat.
"I wonder," he said. It remained the biggest mystery between them.
The couple fell quiet as they hit the road, driving ho in silence, at peace with the promise of a better tomorrow. But as they rged onto the freeway, Ashley glanced to her side and caught a man in the next lane driving with his window rolled down, arm resting on the door, a half-lit cigarette between his fingers.
"Shit," she whispered, turning to Lucian, who had already looked back at her. "It’s the cigarettes."
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