The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment pulled me back to consciousness. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy as I struggled to open them. When I finally did, I found myself in a room that looked nothing like a hospital. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath cream-colored walls adorned with tasteful paintings. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting golden light across what appeared to be a lavish bedroom.
"He's waking up," a woman's voice said.
I turned my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck, to see a middle-aged woman in a crisp business suit standing near the door. Next to her was Isabelle Ashworth, the stunning woman who had given me the jade pendant before I blacked out.
"Ms. Ashworth, I still think taking him to an actual hospital would be more appropriate," the older woman insisted.
Isabelle dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. "Thank you for your input, Margaret, but I've made my decision. The private doctor has already examined him."
As Margaret left with visible disapproval, my mind raced through fragmented memories. The betrayal, Seraphina with Gideon, being thrown out of my home, and then... the strange pendant that had seemed to melt into my skin.
But there was something else—a dream so vivid it felt real.
In the dream, I'd stood in an endless field of swirling green mist. Before me was a regal man with features that somehow mirrored my own, though stronger, more defined.
"My son," he had said, his voice resonating with power, "I had hoped you would awaken under better circumstances."
"Who are you?" I'd asked.
"Your father, though I've been gone too long to claim that title with pride." His eyes had narrowed with disappointment. "Look at you. Weak. Timid. A loser who let others define his worth."
Each word had cut deeper than any physical blow.
"But blood calls to blood," he'd continued. "And though you've squandered your potential, it's not too late. My legacy is now yours—all my knowledge, all my power. Use it better than I did."
Then pain had exploded in my chest as green energy poured into me, filling a void I hadn't known existed—my dantian, the energy center of my body according to ancient texts I'd somehow suddenly understood.
"I won't abandon you as the world has," he'd said as the dream faded. "But neither will I coddle you. Rise, son. Become who you were meant to be."
"Mr. Knight? Can you hear me?" Isabelle's voice pulled me from the memory.
I blinked, focusing on her face. Up close, she was even more striking—flawless skin, intelligent eyes, and full lips pressed into a concerned line.
"Yes," I managed, my voice hoarse. "Where am I?"
"My private residence in Havenwood City." She moved closer, studying me with clinical detachment. "You collapsed after our meeting. I couldn't leave you on the street in that condition."
I struggled to sit up, surprised to find my body didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. "Thank you. That's... unexpectedly kind."
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't misunderstand. I merely fulfilled a family obligation."
A sudden fit of coughing interrupted our conversation as Isabelle covered her mouth with a handkerchief. The attack seemed to wrack her entire body.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
She waved away my concern, but I noticed the handkerchief she quickly folded contained specks of blood.
"Chronic asthma," she said dismissively. "I've had it since childhood. Nothing to concern yourself with."
As she spoke, something strange happened. Knowledge flooded my mind—detailed understanding of respiratory conditions, meridian pathways, and precise acupressure points that could alleviate her symptoms. I saw her condition clearly, as if I could peer through her skin to the inflamed tissues beneath.
The dream hadn't been just a dream. Whatever that jade pendant had done to me, it had changed something fundamental.
"I can help you," I blurted out.
Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
My heart pounded, but a new confidence urged me forward. "Your condition—I can treat it."
Her laugh was sharp and disbelieving. "Mr. Knight, I've consulted with the finest specialists across three continents. Are you suggesting you know better than they do?"
Before I could respond, the door opened and a distinguished older man in a white coat entered.
"Ms. Ashworth, I see our patient is awake." He approached, extending his hand to me. "Dr. Harrison. I've been monitoring your condition."
"He claims he can cure my asthma," Isabelle said with clear skepticism.
Dr. Harrison's friendly demeanor immediately chilled. "Does he now? And what are your medical qualifications, Mr. Knight?"
I hesitated. How could I explain the impossible knowledge now flowing through my mind? "It's... complicated."
"I'm sure it is," the doctor said dryly. "Ms. Ashworth, I'd advise caution. Men in desperate situations often make outlandish claims to curry favor."
His insinuation stung, but I couldn't exactly blame him. From the outside, I must have looked pathetic—bloodied, homeless, and now making grandiose claims to a wealthy, beautiful woman who'd saved me from the gutter.
But I knew what I knew. The knowledge pulsing through me was real.
"I understand how this sounds," I said carefully. "But I can prove it."
Another coughing fit seized Isabelle, worse than before. She doubled over, and this time I could see real concern flash across Dr. Harrison's face.
"Your treatments aren't working," I pointed out as her coughing subsided. "Her condition is worsening. The inflammation is spreading to her upper bronchi, and the medication you've prescribed is causing liver damage."
Dr. Harrison's eyes widened. "How could you possibly—"
"Let him speak," Isabelle interrupted, her voice raspy from coughing. Her eyes met mine, calculating and intense. "What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Knight?"
I took a deep breath. "I can open the blocked meridians in your lungs and clear the inflamed pathways. It's an ancient technique, but I know it will work."
"Ancient technique," Dr. Harrison scoffed. "Ms. Ashworth, this man is clearly delusional—"
"I want to hear more," Isabelle cut him off again, her gaze never leaving my face. "What would this treatment entail?"
I swallowed hard. "I would need to direct energy through specific points on your chest to clear the blockages."
Dr. Harrison threw up his hands. "This is preposterous! Ms. Ashworth, I must insist—"
"Doctor," Isabelle said coldly, "thank you for your concern, but I'll handle this matter personally."
Once the doctor had reluctantly departed, Isabelle fixed me with a penetrating stare. "Mr. Knight, I don't know what game you're playing, but I'll make one thing clear: if you're attempting to take advantage of my condition or my generosity, you will regret it deeply."
I met her gaze, feeling a strange new confidence rising within me. "I'm not playing games. I believe I was given this knowledge for a reason, and right now, that reason seems to be helping you."
She studied me for a long moment, then another coughing fit took her, this one leaving her gasping for breath. When it passed, a new vulnerability showed in her eyes.
"Very well," she said quietly. "I have tried everything else. But be warned—if this is some ploy, the consequences will be severe."
My heart raced as I realized she was actually agreeing. I stood from the bed, steadier than I expected, and moved toward her.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked.
I felt heat rise to my face as I realized what came next. "I, um... I need to place my hand directly on your chest, over your heart."
Her eyebrows rose sharply as my meaning became clear.
"Mr. Knight," she said slowly, "are you telling me you need to touch my bare chest to perform this treatment?"