The sharp, clinical sting of antiseptic and the heavy, earthy aroma of concentrated herbal decoctions were the first things to greet Eins's senses as his consciousness slowly drifted back to the surface. He tried to flutter his eyelids, but they felt as though they had been cast in lead. His vision remained a distorted blur of shifting shadows and flickering candlelight, but the throbbing, rhythmic agony radiating from every fiber of his being served as a brutal confirmation: he was still among the living.
Eins attempted to shift his weight to sit up, but a sharp, ragged groan escaped his parched lips. His face felt thick and heavy with swelling; his right hand was entombed in a tight, rigid bandage with deep indigo bruising peeking through the gaps in the fabric. His left leg sat heavy in a plaster cast, a testament to a fracture that had come dangerously close to being permanent.
"I'm... a total wreck," Eins whispered to the empty air, his voice a dry rasp.
There was a suffocating tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his broken ribs. It was the weight of perceived uselessness. As a man, and as a partner, he felt he had failed a fundamental test of character. He was supposed to be the one guiding Lysara through the complexities of this new world, yet he had ended up as a liability, a broken burden she had to carry back to safety on her own back. All his journals, the meticulously recorded data, the fragments of a lost age he had labored to preserve—all of it had been reduced to formless gray ash.
His spiral into self-loathing was interrupted by a warm, steady weight pressing against the side of his bed. He adjusted his gaze to find Lysara. She was asleep in a seated position, her head resting on the edge of the mattress right next to his uninjured hand. Her usually stoic, porcelain-like face looked haggard and drained; even in sleep, the faint lines of a deep, lingering sorrow were etched around her eyes.
Eins let out a long, shaky breath of relief. "Thank goodness... you're safe," he murmured. He knew she was powerful, but seeing her like this—exhausted from guarding his bedside—made a spark of warmth flicker in the cold hollow of his chest.
Suddenly, Lysara's long, tufted ears twitched. Her eyes snapped open, and her gray irises immediately locked onto Eins's brown ones. For a heartbeat, time seemed to suspend its breath. Then, the dam holding back her emotions finally burst. Without a word, she lunged forward, embracing him with a terrifying gentleness—as if she feared that the slightest pressure would cause his fragile human frame to shatter all over again.
"Eins! You're awake... thank the stars... I thought I had lost the only light I had left," Lysara sobbed, her voice muffled against his shoulder. The icy stoicism that had defined her for a thousand years had completely thawed into a river of raw, unfiltered grief and relief.
"I'm here, Lysara. I'm not going anywhere just yet," Eins said, using his free hand to stroke her back, trying to anchor her.
Once her sobs subsided into soft, ragged breaths, Eins asked in a gravelly tone, "What happened to... Sei's group?"
Lysara's gaze hardened instantly, turning as cold as a mountain glacier. "I hunted them. I made sure they felt every ounce of the pain they inflicted on you—and then I doubled it. I systematically broke them so they would understand exactly what it feels like to be the weak and the prey."
Eins remained silent for a long moment. He felt a pang of guilt; he was the reason she had been forced to descend back into that primal, brutal state. Yet, there was a dark, hidden part of him that was grateful she had listened to his moral plea. "You didn't... kill them, did you?"
"No," she replied softly, looking down at her hands. "Because you told me not to. I left them alive, though they might wish I hadn't."
The quiet of the infirmary was suddenly shattered by a commotion from the Guild clinic's outer hall. The air was filled with the frantic shouts of healers and the heavy, hurried footsteps of porters. A group of passing adventurers had just arrived, carrying the mangled, broken remains of Sei's party. They were in a state of absolute ruin—comatose, shattered, barely clinging to life, yet technically breathing.
Lysara let out a sharp, cynical huff. "They got exactly what they deserved. To be honest, life is a mercy they don't deserve."
Eins reached out and squeezed her hand, his fingers interlaced with hers. "Let the Guild's justice handle them now. For us, the focus is only on healing."
Later that night, as the clinic's oil lamps were dimmed to a low, amber glow and Eins drifted into a deep, chemically induced sleep, Lysara remained wide awake. She stared at him with a gaze of absolute, unwavering devotion, her heart aching at the sight of his labored breathing. She couldn't bear to see him suffer for another minute.
Lysara lifted her index finger. With a single, sharp flick of her retractable claw, she sliced the tip of her own finger. A thick, vibrant drop of deep crimson blood welled up—Ancient Beastfolk blood, pulsing with a thousand years of concentrated vitality. She leaned over and held her finger over Eins's slightly parted lips, letting the life-giving essence drip into his mouth.
"This is a fragment of my soul, Eins. Heal for me," she whispered into the dark.
The following morning, a medical miracle unfolded. Eins woke up feeling an impossible lightness in his limbs. The stabbing, localized agony in his leg and ribs had vanished, replaced by a strange, tingling warmth. He experimented by wiggling his toes inside the heavy cast; there was no pain, only the sensation of perfectly mended bone.
He saw Lysara standing by the window, silhouetted against the rising sun. Eins pushed himself off the bed. His legs were a bit wobbly at first, but to his shock, he stood upright without the need for a crutch. He walked slowly, step by step, toward her.
Lysara turned around and immediately pulled him into another embrace. "Forgive me... I gave you my blood. The blood of the Ancient Beastfolk possesses a terrifying regenerative capability when consumed by a human. It stitches broken tissue and knits bone in hours, so long as the spark of life hasn't fully extinguished."
Eins was stunned. This was a piece of forbidden lore, a discovery that likely existed in no archive in the world. "Your blood... it saved me?"
"Only because you still had the will to stay with me," she replied, her voice thick with sincerity.
Eins looked deep into her eyes, and a new, iron-clad resolve took root in his heart. He would never let this woman cry for him again. "Thank you, Lysara. I promise you, I will become stronger—in my own way."
A few moments later, Ena burst into the room, her face a mask of worry. She nearly dropped her tray of medicines when she saw Eins standing by the window, looking perfectly healthy.
"Eins?! How is this even possible?!" she shrieked, her green hair practically standing on end.
Eins sat her down and explained the situation in a hushed, urgent tone. Ena, being sharp-witted, immediately grasped the geopolitical weight of the secret. "This is insane... but I understand. I'll keep this under lock and key with the Guild Master. But listen to me: you have to play the part. Keep those bandages on and use a crutch for at least two days. If people see you healed overnight, they'll start asking questions—and we don't want the whole world hunting Lysara for her 'miracle' blood."
Two days later, they finally checked out of the clinic. Though his body was in peak condition, Eins maintained the ruse, wearing a white bandage around his forehead and leaning on a wooden cane.
However, a significant shift had occurred in their dynamic: Lysara had become overwhelmingly, almost aggressively, protective and affectionate.
The Ancient Beastfolk woman refused to let go of Eins's arm. As they walked through the market, she insisted on hand-feeding him skewers of grilled meat, ignoring his protests that his hands were perfectly fine.
"Come, open your mouth, Eins. You need the protein to ensure your bones stay fused," Lysara said, her face stoic but her eyes filled with an intense, mother-hen-like focus.
"Lysara, people are staring... I can feed myself—"
"No. Open."
Eins could only comply, his face turning a vivid shade of red as other adventurers looked on with expressions of pure envy. Not only that, but she insisted on carrying every single heavy shopping bag. At one point, she decided he was walking "too slowly" and simply hoisted him onto her back without warning.
"Lysara! Put me down! This is humiliating!" Eins shouted, burying his face in his researcher's hat to hide from the public.
Lysara only let out a rare, melodic chuckle. "You're as light as a feather, Eins. Just enjoy the ride."
That evening at the inn, the air grew thick with a new kind of intimacy. Lysara emerged from the washroom wearing a soft, short pajama set they had recently purchased. She walked over to where Eins was sitting, embraced him from behind, and buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.
"The scent of Eins... it calms my heart," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.
Eins's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He had never been cared for or approached with such raw affection since he was a small child. It was a dizzying cocktail of warmth, anxiety, and profound happiness.
As they lay down together in the quiet dark of the room, Eins realized that their bond had transcended the boundaries of researcher and subject, or even adventurer and partner. An invisible thread of emotion now bound two souls who had both been scarred by the world, weaving them into a single, inseparable story.
To be continued...