In the comfortable and warm house, I was immediately greeted by the warmth of a fireplace, and countless pieces of worn yet deeply-loved furniture. In the corner of the house, I saw a small kitchen, and down the hallway, I saw a hallway lined with lanterns and countless rooms. The middle-aged woman carried me to the bathroom with a solemn expression, setting me down in the tub.

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  Without a word, she unwrapped the bandages around my upper torso, letting the blood from the bullet wound flow freely, staining the cloudy water beneath a slight shade of red. She opened her mouth to speak, but refrained from doing so as she reached into an upperhand cabinet, taking out a myriad of supplies.

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  She gestured for me to roll onto my back, resting my head on the edge of the wooden bathtub. From the supplies, she extracted a pair of metallic tweezers, her other hand gently cupping the skin around the wound, pinching it harshly. At this moment, she froze and looked down at me.

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  "I'd rather not hear you scream."

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  "W-what?" I felt my blood run cold, deeply taken aback by her statement.

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  Upon taking notice of my worries, her expression softened. Opening a lower cabinet, she took out a gingham-style cloth, handed it to me, and instructed me to put it inside my mouth to stifle any noises I might make. Then, she continued the process. She immediately pinched the skin around my wound, raising it upwards to get a better view of the bullet.

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  According to her initial impression, the bullet had only pierced a few centimeters of muscle, but didn't make contact with anything too worrying. Using her tweezers, she slowly parted the mottled, purplish-colored skin surrounding it, diving in slowly with almost surgical precision. I closed my eyes tightly, tears pricking my cheeks as I bit down with the force of a rabid wolf, my entire body trembling as if a live wire had been hooked straight through me.

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  "You're trembling," she said softly, parting the hair that obscured my neck.

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  Her eyes widened upon seeing a trail of ink-black veins moving upwards from the location of the wound, gathering in a spot on the back of my neck. Using a gloved hand, the woman slowly traced the contours of the wound, feeling the veins pulse and ripple as if they possessed an almost liquid quality.

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  "These wounds... they're reacting strangely."

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  "What do you mean?" My voice came out muffled through the cloth in my mouth, already stained with saliva that leaked onto the wooden floor.

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  She fell silent, her brows furrowing. "I'll need to look deeper into this."

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  With a final pinch of the tweezers, she grabbed the bullet lodged in my back, pulling it out and unceremoniously tossing it into the nearest trash bin. Following this, she tied her hair into a messy bun and began her other work.

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  "Are you allergic to any spices?"

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  "Not that I know of—" I was cut short by a rippling surge of pain emanating from the now-empty wound.

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  She had used a herbal spice to lodge the wound, a red-colored spice that was labeled with healing qualities. By now, tears were openly flowing down my face.

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  "I know, it hurts a lot." Her voice dripped with sympathy, expression soft as she grabbed a roll of cotton bandages, setting them aside.

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  "But it'll help the wound. Calicus is a vital spice used in many medical fields."

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  After treating my wound, she took a step back and clasped her hands together, admiring her handiwork. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and Kael, now clad in relaxed attire, walked in with a small smile. She turned to him, also smiling.

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  "He took the treatment like a warrior."

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  "A warrior..." Kael paused, chuckling under his breath as he pointed in my direction. "This boy?"

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  He turned to me, scoffing as he ran a hand through his blood-colored hair. "You should be honored."

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  My cheeks flushed a small amount, and I looked away as my stomach fluttered a bit from all the embarrassment and attention I was receiving. I never wished to be the one people felt sorry for; receiving all this help was kind of nice.

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  "Will I ever get to go back?" I suddenly asked, letting go of the rag in my mouth whilst looking up at Kael.

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  The man with elven ears knelt, shaking his head slightly. "For the meantime, I'd like to say no."

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  "Will it ever be a possibility?" I continued.

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  "Stop with the questions—put your head back." Kael's tone suddenly grew a little sharper, making my skin crawl.

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  I put my head back in the tub, letting the warm water touch my hair and most of my body. Kael reached for a bar of soap, squeezing it in between his fingers until it dissolved into a fine powder. He then sprinkled the powder into the bathtub, gradually making the cloudy water bubbly and voluminous. The entire time, I felt like a young child receiving a bubble bath, but I couldn't defend myself or attempt to do anything else besides just submit—the pain in my back was still killing me even after the bullet was removed.

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  "You're on the run now; I'd recommend fitting that into a new pair of shoes." He spoke softly, more like a fatherly figure than someone who I had just seen massacre a pack of wolves for a midnight snack.

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  His hands slowly found their way to my hair, running a hand through my dark-brown locks.

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  "A wise, profound man once said the key to becoming new is to embrace all changes. You may want to look back, but the dwelling behind you is resentful."

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  At this moment, Kael reached into his bag, taking out a small vial of blackish powder. He unscrewed the lid, putting a generous amount onto a nearby rag.

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  "Remove your glasses; we don't want to stain the lenses," Kael spoke softly, a small smile on his face as he began to run the rag through my hair, gently caressing the locks to their roots. I closed my eyes, sinking slightly as I let out a low, exhausted sigh.

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  "You're still pretty beat up, covered in bruises and whatnot."

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  "I know..." I replied, not bothering to give much physical effort.

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  Deep down, I wanted to turn around and run back to the kingdom, but my arms and legs were tired; they didn't want me to move. My mind raced with thoughts of my friends, but my emotions and heart ached at the memory of them. I wanted to be held and hugged, but my body was too cold—too harsh for someone to embrace.

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  I wanted to go back home—to embrace the people who cared about me—but I knew they had seen the massacre in the room. They glared at me with wide eyes, tear-stricken and filled with terror. I had seen my nightmares, and they caused me to assault Catherine. I had tried to truly suppress that darkness within me—that guilt, but the world cackles at those who want to change. I had drunk the potion to get power in a world where the powerless suffer and die, but the changes that came with it brought about suffering and calamity.

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  I had failed, failed to protect those I cared about. I made a promise to Damien that I'd be the father he lost... but I too succumbed and abandoned him because of fear. I wanted to befriend Ayumi because she was kind to me, and I had felt guilty for not stopping her harassment. When I met Shinso, his expression softened even a sliver upon seeing me.

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  Humans try to trick themselves with miracles of bliss and happiness, but an illusion is only an illusion when you wake up, not when you open your eyes, but when the vision you've been seeing fades all away.

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  "I have some clothing for you." Kael's voice shattered the atmosphere like it was made of glass, making me flinch slightly.

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  He pointed to a pile of clothing at the edge of the room, brown and grayish-colored garments folded in the corner of the bathroom. I nodded my head, slowly moving to stand up, but I winced and fell back down.

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  "Do you mind helping me?"

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  "Not at all."

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  Kael helped me out of the tub, walking me to the corner of the bathroom. He positioned me on the floor, drying me off with a towel. After this, he grabbed the shirt, revealing it to me. The first had cross-woven stitching obscuring the neckline by a small amount, and a raised collar that would frame the neck. When he slipped it over my head, I stuck my arms through the sleeves, feeling the warm fabric against my skin.

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  It was much better than my previous freezing garments. The pants, dark gray and made of a soft fabric, were also quite soft and comfortable. It was drastically different from what I've seen the people of Seraphis Kingdom wear. While I saw fringes, makeup, and expensive jewelry, here I saw rural attire, loose clothing, dogs and cows, and a sort of tangible recklessness.

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  The recklessness wasn't due to a lack of care, but a lack of danger. Here in Clifton, people didn't seem to care about the politics or intricate plots of nobles and kings, only the people around them.

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  "Can you walk?" Kael asked, arching an eyebrow.

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  "My back is still killing me..." My face flushed a little.

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  Hearing this, he smiled. Suddenly, crimson flames descended from his palm, taking the form of a small wooden walking stick. It was simple in appearance, having no intricate details or patterns carved into its wooden exterior. The top of the stick was curved ninety degrees, allowing me to grab the handle and slowly raise my body.

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  I felt like an elderly person. It was like this new town wanted me to feel like everybody at once.

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  "How about we walk for a bit? You'll get exercise, and we'll get a bite to eat."