The long-awaited day finally arrived. Rafael left his home early, heading toward the old well where he had agreed to meet Sophia. She was already there—this time with a man beside her—the doctor.
For the first time, Rafael approached Sophia without his cloak hiding his face. The moment she saw him—really saw him—she froze. A faint blush coloured her cheeks, though she quickly looked away and pretended not to notice her own reaction.
Rafael cleared his throat. "Let's go." He escorted them swiftly back to his small house at the edge of the village.
Inside, Sara lay wrapped in a blanket, unmoving—her breaths shallow, barely noticeable. As they entered, something shifted quietly behind the house: Malrek, curled inside a barrel like a cramped cat, held his breath and listened.
The doctor stepped forward.
He was a brown-haired man with round glasses, dressed in the formal healer's attire of the main province: a black cloak, white gloves, and a white bird-like mask hanging at his side. He set down his briefcase with care, then knelt beside Sara without saying a word.
After a long, silent inspection, he finally turned to Rafael. "How long has she been like this?"
"Two years," Rafael answered. The doctor nodded once. Then he reached into his case, pulling out two gold medallions etched with strange symbols. He placed one on Sara's forehead and held the other above his own head.
He whispered an incantation. The air shifted. Both medallions glowed with soft gold light. For a moment, the doctor's eyes shone the same golden hue—bright, knowing, unnerving. Then, as quickly as it began, the spell faded.
Rafael stared in awe. He had never seen magic like this. The doctor pocketed the medallions, his expression unreadable.Then he spoke. "She is not suffering from any disease." Rafael's breath caught. Sophia gasped softly. "What?" Rafael asked. "Then why is she like this?"
"It is her life force," the doctor replied. "It's draining. Fading slowly." Rafael frowned. "How?" The doctor shrugged lightly. "Only two things can cause such a collapse of life energy… excessive use of divine magic, or exposure to black magic. Nothing else."
Rafael's confusion deepened, but before he could question more, the doctor continued.
"There is nothing I can do for her. But—" he stood, brushing dust from his cloak, "there is something you can do."
He reached into his case again and handed Rafael a clear, palm-sized crystal. Rafael held it carefully. "What is this?"
"A vessel," the doctor said. "For life force." Sophia's eyes widened with dread.
The doctor went on, voice calm, clinical, disturbingly casual. "To restore what she lost, you must give her life energy from another source. A life for a life. Kill someone… let the crystal absorb their life force… and then channel it into her. Only then will she wake."
Rafael felt the room tilt. The crystal suddenly felt as heavy as stone. "That is the only cure," the doctor added. "There is no other method."
He packed his belongings. Rafael paid him the agreed amount, though his hands trembled.
Moments later, the doctor and Sophia stood outside the house.Sophia hesitated, torn, before stepping back inside with Rafael.
Rafael stared at the crystal in his palm—clear, cold, innocent-looking.His jaw clenched. Even Sophia did not know what to say. She simply watched him, worry etched in her bright green eyes.
Rafael stood there, gripping the crystal so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Rafael didn't sleep.
Sophia's last words looped in his mind —I'm not sure what you'll do, but I have faith you'll make the right choice.Faith. As if that made the decision any easier.
Now he sat on the cold stone floor of the tiny house, back to the wall, knees pulled close. Sara's breathing was weak… thinner than in the morning. Every exhale sounded like a thread snapping.
Malrek sat beside him, unusually quiet, knees pulled to his chest. Rafael had already told him everything the doctor had said about Sara, and for once, the masked idiot who always joked about everything didn't even try to speak. He'd been caught just as off guard.
Rafael's fingers curled slowly around the crystal. He stared at Sara's sleeping form—skin pale, lips dry, chest barely rising. His jaw clenched.
"Fuck it."
He pushed himself up. Malrek jolted, looking up.
Rafael's eyes were cold, determined. "I have to do what has to be done. If I stay here… Sara will die. And I'm not letting her die in vain. I won't."
He turned to Malrek. "It's time to collect another bounty." Malrek blinked. "…You're serious?" Rafael nodded. "I kill a wanted criminal. Take their bounty. Take their life force. And save her. It's risky, but it's the only option."
Malrek was silent for a long moment—long enough that Rafael wondered if he'd refuse. But then he stood and exhaled sharply.
"…Fine. I'm coming with you." Rafael didn't argue. Instead, he grabbed two black cloaks from a crate and tossed one to Malrek. "Then put this on." Malrek twirled it once before swinging it around himself dramatically. "Does this make me look mysterious?" he asked.
"No," Rafael deadpanned. "But maybe it'll hide your idiot face." Malrek shrugged. "Can't hide greatness."
Rafael ignored him and began arming himself—multiple kitchen knives tucked into his belt, the worn machete strapped to his side. Malrek mirrored him, securing a machete of his own. Rafael looked back at Sara one last time. His grip tightened. "Hold on… I'll bring you back."
The two cloaked figures stepped out into the night. The town was quiet, moonlight spilling over rooftops like silver paint. They walked toward the police guard's office—the place where wanted posters were kept.
They reached the guard station—a squat stone building lit by a single flickering lantern. Rafael stopped at the door.
"You wait outside," he said quietly. "If anyone here recognises you, this whole thing falls apart." Malrek pulled his hood lower. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be invisible." Rafael shot him a look. "Just stay out of sight."
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room fell silent.
Two guards sat behind a wooden desk cluttered with scrolls and useless paperwork. At the sound of the door, they both turned—and froze. Rafael's black cloak, shadowed hood, and the cold emptiness in his eyes made him look less like a villager and more like a ghost on two legs.
Rafael didn't blink. He just stared back with eyes that looked dead, hollow, and dangerous—eyes belonging to someone who had already decided to spill blood tonight. The tension snapped across the room like a drawn bowstring.
"Evening," said in a cool, calm voice. He stepped forward. "I'm here for a bounty."