Sabrina watched Fang carefully, then slowly reached out her hand.
Fang leaned forward as if by instinct, bringing his head closer.
She was genuinely concerned.
Yes, he could be smooth-tongued and teasing, but he had helped her out more than once.
And in Sabrina's mind, Sentinels were no different from the soldiers she had known in her own world—dangerous, yes, but also brave, burdened, deserving of respect.
More than that—this was her responsibility.
By any measure—emotion or duty—she should act with kindness.
The moment her hand touched his forehead, a soft sound slipped from Fang's lips.
His entire body tensed.
He couldn't believe it.
Just that single touch—and it was as if a man lost in the desert had suddenly swallowed a mouthful of cool, sweet water.
The exhaustion, the heat, the suffocating agitation—all of it vanished in an instant.
Even his soul—once as lifeless as dry wood—seemed to stir, as if called back to life.
Hearing the faint sound he made, Sabrina blinked, puzzled.
His skin was cold. Far colder than a normal person's should be.
Perhaps it had something to do with the effects of mental contamination… or partial transformation.
Eugene's head had been warm.
She felt no sign of fever.
So she began to withdraw her hand, but suddenly, a cool hand covered the back of hers.
"…Don't…"
Fang's voice was soft, almost pleading.
"Like this… I feel much better…"
He opened his eyes slightly.
In the narrow frame of his gaze, those blue eyes shimmered like gemstones submerged in water—clear, luminous—and quietly, almost pitifully, imploring.
Sabrina frowned faintly and pulled her hand back with a bit more force.
She gestured quickly, then wrote:
[Your head is too cold. I can't tell. I'll go get a doctor for you.]
Fang lifted his hand again, gently holding her wrist as he read the note.
Leaning weakly against the door, he truly looked like a fragile beauty on the verge of collapse.
As he read the concerned words—and felt the lingering warmth of her skin—his cold body seemed to thaw, little by little, like something long frozen beneath sunlight.
Once, by virtue of his battlefield achievements, he had been granted a chance at purification.
A rare opportunity.
But that experience… was nothing like this.
The Guide—proud, distant—had made him sit far away, never once coming close.
Using only their spirit companion, they had "purified" his mind.
Five minutes.
That was all.
Yes, the pounding in his head had eased slightly, but it was no different from taking a sleeping pill and forcing himself into rest.
Before he had even left, that creeping, shadow-like agitation had returned.
He would never forget that day.
After saving up enough merit, waiting half a month for an appointment—he had gone in full of hope.
He knew Guides were rare. Precious.
Temperamental.
But when he finally stood there—and saw the cold, faintly disgusted look in their eyes—the pristine healing chamber had felt like an icebox.
Disappointment seeped into his bones.
It wasn't the wasted merit that stung.
It was the way he had felt—like a filthy, tail-wagging dog, begging for scraps of attention.
Sentinels might be tough, but they were not meant to be treated like something expendable.
When Sabrina pulled her hand away, it broke his thoughts.
Fang turned his head slightly, still dazed.
She waved another note in front of him.
[Wait here. I'll go get a doctor.]
He moved to reach for her again, but she had already turned and hurried off.
As she descended the stairs, Eugene was still there, his head stuck out of the hatch like a turtle unable to retreat into its shell.
Seeing her return, his grin widened.
"Little miss, have mercy on me~ You're the kindest, aren't you?"
Sabrina stared at him, utterly speechless.
She walked up to him and placed both hands on Eugene's head.
He closed his eyes, letting out another soft, almost indulgent moan.
Sabrina frowned, then pushed hard—
sending him straight back inside.
Before he could react, she slammed the hatch shut, cutting off any chance for further nonsense.
She was just about to go find a doctor when Fang's voice drifted down from upstairs.
"No need, Sabrina. I'm fine now."
Not only did he call her by name with easy familiarity, his tone had already returned to its usual light, teasing ease.
Sabrina paused.
Then she turned and went back upstairs, suspicion written plainly across her face.
Fang was still leaning there, eyes curved in a gentle smile as he watched her.
"It passed all of a sudden," he said lightly. "Thank you for your concern, Sabrina."
She shot him a glare.
Her pen moved swiftly across the paper:
[Don't joke about things like this. How am I supposed to know if you're actually unwell?]
Fang froze for a moment.
Then, the way he looked at her softened.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I won't joke like that again."
Seeing his cooperative attitude, Sabrina pressed her lips together, then wrote again:
[Are you really okay now?]
Fang's smile was faint but steady.
"I'm fine. If I'm ever truly unwell, I'll tell you."
But beneath that calm exterior—he was thinking.
Could it be that this seemingly fragile girl had awakened Guide abilities without even realizing it?
The simplest way to confirm it would be to call a doctor—to test whether his contamination level had decreased.
But if her identity as a Guide were discovered… the people from the White Tower would descend like hounds catching a scent.
And if that happened, he, trapped here in the Black Tower, would likely never see her again.
Better, perhaps, to let this unusual girl remain here quietly, untouched by that so-called "holy" place.
Better that than watching her be swallowed by that gilded cage.
But…
Downstairs, Eugene had also been trying to get her to touch him.
Had he noticed too?
A flicker of thought passed through Fang's eyes.
After collecting all the trays, Sabrina pushed her cart away.
The restless roars and agitation from above and around them had long since become background noise.
Those still lucid occupied themselves quietly, each passing the time in their own way.
Then, suddenly—
Fang spoke again, his tone unhurried.
"Eugene… the bruise on Sabrina's hand—that was from you, wasn't it?"
The question seemed random.
Most people only flicked their lashes slightly, not paying much attention.
Eugene, however, smiled lazily.
"Yeah. So what?"
Fang's voice remained calm, almost idle.
"We finally get someone who treats us all the same… and you can't restrain that madness of yours?"
Eugene let out a low chuckle.
The sound was strange—warped, faintly unhinged.
"You said it yourself. I'm insane. How's an insane man supposed to control himself?"
Fang hummed lightly.
"If you can't control yourself, and you scare her off… Then the next one who comes along will just call you a mad dog again. Won't that make you happy?"
Eugene went still.
Inside his room, the madness drained from his expression, replaced by something darker.
They had risked their lives out there, protecting everyone.
And for that, they were left with contaminated minds, confined bodies, twisted forms.
Reduced to something less than human.
So what right did those people have to laugh at them?
Only when Fang saw that Eugene was listening did he continue.
"Who knows… we might spend the rest of our lives here. Before you die, do you want to be a mad dog—or Eugene? You decide."
His words were calm.
But the meaning was unmistakable.
A warning.
Treasure this rare chance to still be treated like a human being.
Whether Sabrina's ability came from a hidden awakening—or something else entirely—if they wanted dignity… if they wanted even the slightest hope of leaving—then they would have to behave.