When Lynch regained consciousness, all he saw was a hazy dimness.
Am I still alive? Did I sleep for too short a time, or did I pass the critical window safely?
Subconsciously wanting to reach into his coat for his pocket watch, Lynch suddenly discovered that his arms wouldn't move.
Oh no, was I really infected?
However, he immediately realized that his arms were just numb from being pressed under heavy weight, having lost all sensation.
What's going on?
Rubbing his bleary eyes with effort, Lynch looked down.
...
Well then. On his left and right, two ladies were resting their heads on his arms, sleeping soundly.
Seriously? It's one thing to stay close, but to sleep so soundly... Are you two crazy?! Are you afraid you'd miss out if you didn’t get bitten?!
Although deeply moved and secretly enjoying it, Lynch's face still turned green. If the person waking up right now had turned into an infected, both of these girls would be joining him in the afterlife.
He leaped up with a yell, which startled the infected in the neighboring cells. The dungeon immediately echoed with roars once more, like a melody of a frantic sonata.
Both ladies were jolted awake on the spot.
Officer Natalie instinctively executed a low roll along the floor, putting distance between herself and the source of the noise. By the time she stopped, her sword was already drawn, though her eyes were still slightly dazed.
Miss Diana, on the other hand, rubbed her eyes and sat up, offering Lynch a groggy smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Lynch. Did something happen?”
“What are you yelling for? You scared me to death!” Officer Natalie finally confirmed there was no danger and sheathed her sword. Her morning grumpiness took over as she snapped, “Senseless fool, you'd better actually have a good reason for that!”
“You two are the crazy ones! How could you dare sleep so soundly beside me when my condition was unknown?!” Lynch's momentum was instantly extinguished, but just as he was about to apologize, he suddenly caught himself. Why were these two turning it around on him? “No matter the reason, you shouldn't have done that! How can you blame me for yelling?!”
Both ladies froze for a second, exchanged a look, and burst out laughing.
“It seems you slept quite well last night, Mr. Lynch, completely unaware of what happened.”
Looking at the young countess's fluttering, big eyes, Lynch was momentarily stunned. He had indeed slept very well last night, though he vaguely remembered being woken up once in the middle of the night by people whispering near him. It seemed to have been these two girls, and his arm had felt like it was bitten by a mosquito.
Wait, that wasn't a dream?
Lynch looked down at his arm. On the skin inside his elbow, a tiny red dot remained, looking remarkably like a mosquito bite.
A needle mark.
Lynch instantly pieced it together and shook his numb arm. “You injected me with medicine? Does that mean Dr. Sven has already formulated the cure?”
“Mm.” Miss Diana nodded with a smile. “It's an experimental version to confirm it isn't harmful, though its effects aren't fully stable yet. She finished a batch around three in the morning and decided to test it on you first. Seeing how soundly you were sleeping, we didn't wake you and just injected it directly.”
“So fast? Didn't she say it would take until noon?”
“This was just an experimental dose that still needs further stabilization. The real cure probably won't be ready until noon.” Miss Diana pointed to the pile of straw beside them. “As for the speed, you have her to thank.”
Turning his head, Lynch saw Judy curled up on the neighboring straw bed, sleeping like a child. He wondered if the real Judy in that world of flames was like this too.
“Turns out she possesses the most extensive knowledge of forbidden occultism among us, including many Third Age techniques that don't carry the risk of exposing her identity,” Officer Natalie added. “With her help, Dr. Sven was able to make such rapid progress. We were truly fortunate to bring her along this time.”
So that's how she ended up driving herself into this state. Lynch let out a sigh and asked, “What time is it now?”
“It should be nearly eight in the morning.” Both ladies broke into bright smiles, and Officer Natalie patted Lynch firmly on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Lynch. The critical period has passed.”
“Uh, so the medicine actually worked?”
“Who knows?” The young countess spread her hands. “No one knows if you were actually infected in the first place, so there's no way to evaluate the drug's effectiveness. But at least you're safe and sound, so let's give the medicine credit. After all, you're still completely normal right now.”
Phew, it really is good to be alive.
Only now did Lynch let out a long breath. No matter how calm he had acted before, anxiety had inevitably lingered in his heart.
A narrow escape from death.
Lynch was in a wonderful mood—so good that both girls looked considerably prettier to him, bringing a mischievous smirk to his face.
“That might not be true. Who's to say I haven't already gone mad?”
Saying that, he bared his teeth, waved his hands, and lunged toward the two girls with a mock roar. However, Officer Natalie casually pinned him onto the straw bed almost instantly. One pinned smoothly, the other was pinned smoothly—a seamless display of silent coordination. Watching them, Miss Diana puffed her cheeks, who knew what she was thinking.
It wasn't until Judy was woken up by the noise and let out an angry roar that the three of them finally broke off their shamelessly affectionate goofing around. The four of them straightened their clothes and returned to the surface.
The guarding soldiers had no idea someone had just walked the line between life and death. Thinking these four had some bizarre preference for sleeping in a smelly dungeon, their gazes toward them were distinctly odd.
Upon asking, they learned that all those injured last night had succumbed to the illness around dawn, without a single exception.
Those dozen or so people were still alive, locked in the depths of the fortress awaiting the completion of the cure. As for those clever individuals who had pretended to be injured, they had ultimately been driven away by the soft-hearted soldiers instead of getting the martyrdom they sought, which left Lynch feeling a slight sense of regret.
The four went straight to Dr. Sven's temporary research room. The moment they pushed open the door, flickers of firelight greeted their eyes.
It was a spacious room with a fire pit in the center. The firewood inside burned fiercely, supporting a large ceramic pot above it. Green liquid bubbled and frothed inside, giving off waves of an acrid, pungent odor.
When the four walked in, Dr. Sven was sprinkling a handful of ash-like residue into the pot. Though it was merely dropped into liquid, the flames in the pit suddenly surged high, filling the air with a burnt smell.
The female doctor paid no mind to the visitors, focusing entirely on stepping in a bizarre rhythm, slowly spinning around the pit and the pot while chanting mysterious words in an unintelligible tongue. As she chanted, the fierce fire rapidly dimmed, all the flames retracting to the base of the large ceramic pot. Immediately after, the liquid inside tumbled even more violently. Strange animal corpses and plant remains at the bottom floated to the surface from time to time, making the unidentified liquid look all the more ominous.
After circling a few times, Dr. Sven suddenly let out a low shout and came to a sharp halt. Drawing a dagger, she pricked her finger and used her blood to draw four consecutive symbols on the floor around the large pot.
With every symbol drawn, the liquid's boiling intensified. Yet the moment the fourth symbol was finished, the boiling surface defied all laws of physics, instantly becoming calm and smooth as glass. The green liquid turned purple in an instant, wafting a faint, chilly vapor.
This wasn't Lynch's first time seeing Dr. Sven work—he had seen it yesterday as well—but no matter how many times he witnessed it, he found it ripe for commentary.
He had yet to witness the Fifth Age pharmaceutical process in this world, but he had at least visited the apothecary room of the Church of Suffering. Bright, spotless, and tidy, with rows of large medicine cabinets lining the walls filled with various strange or normal ingredients. In the center stood several workbenches stacked with test tubes, crucibles, gas stoves, and alcohol lamps, looking quite modern and reminiscent of his previous life.
Yet Dr. Sven's concoction process reminded Lynch of the legendary witches from back home—especially that big-nosed wizard with the dumb cat from the cartoon full of little blue men, an uncanny resemblance. However, before he could indulge in any more disrespectful thoughts, Dr. Sven temporarily paused her work, turned to look back at him, and let out a gentle sigh of relief.
“I am glad to see you walk in normally, even though I constantly feel like your eyes are filled with malice.”
“Ahem, that's slander.” Lynch smiled and offered a deep bow. “Thank you for your trouble.”
“Your friends helped a great deal. There's no need to thank me, I...”
Before Dr. Sven could finish speaking, the door was pushed open once more.
Knight Terry, whom everyone had worried about all night, walked in with a grim expression.
The very first sentence he uttered plunged all five of them into silence.
“I think I saw the young master. Alive.”
Rate on N.U.
