Big Sister Therese drank some water, and after the nursing staff assisted her with her needs, she lay back down in bed.
Her breathing gradually grew peaceful.
The shallow, rapid gasps shifted into deep, slow breaths.
"...You should sleep for a while."
When I said that, Big Sister Therese nodded slightly, her eyes still open just a sliver.
"Rein... thank you for curing me..."
As I watched her slowly close her eyes, I pulled the duvet up to her shoulders.
I stood up and turned around.
Mira was standing right behind me. I could tell she had softly exhaled the breath she had been holding. Near the door, Lina slowly relaxed her tightly clenched hands.
By the bedside stood the slaves who had been ordered to provide nursing care. Until a moment ago, they had been standing by with faces that looked as if they had given up on everything.
Now, those expressions had transformed.
They had resigned themselves to infection and death. But now, they were filled with the hope that they might survive.
Looking at their faces, I knew what I had to do.
If Big Sister Therese could be cured, then the people of the city could be saved as well. The process would be the same.
The only question was how to begin.
◇◇◇
People were still collapsing across the city even now. We didn't have a single moment to waste.
First, I had to relay these results to Marquis Ahrens. It was necessary to clear any suspicion of infection, including for myself.
I called out from a distance to a servant walking down the hallway.
"I have a message for Marquis Ahrens."
"Yes?"
The servant replied, looking bewildered.
"The Saint has been saved. This isn't a contagious disease—it's poison. That means detoxification magic can cure it."
The servant's eyes widened. However, I could see a flicker of doubt in them, as if they couldn't quite believe it was the truth.
"I have two more requests."
I slowly laid out the plan I had constructed in my head.
"First, gather as many people who can use detoxification magic as possible. I suspect the high-ranking members of the Church should be able to cast it. The more hands we have, the more people we can save."
"Second, please let me go to the clinic. It must be overflowing with patients by now. I will treat them there and prove this isn't a plague."
If I was going to treat people, it was best to go where the sick were already gathered. The clinic would have recovery magic users and beds. Even in my current attire, I wouldn't look out of place there.
Then, I turned to the nursing staff by the bedside.
"I have a request for you as well. At the clinic, everyone will likely be too afraid to touch the patients. Could you please help me? Since you’ve seen Big Sister Therese recover with your own eyes, I know you can do it."
The nursing slaves snapped their heads up.
"...Yes. Understood. We'll do it."
A light shone in their eyes that hadn't been there before.
I readjusted my hood, tucking my long silver hair completely inside. Then, I closed my right eye.
Mira stood silently beside me. Lina followed suit, tucking her long ears neatly into her hood before falling in behind us.
Together, we headed for the clinic.
◇◇◇
The clinic sat in the center of the city.
The moment I pushed the door open, I froze.
A stifling stench rolled over me. Sweat, vomit—and beneath it all, a scent I knew too well. The smell of the dead. It was a scent I had been forced to endure more than I ever wanted to back when I was a slave.
There weren't nearly enough beds. Patients were packed together on the floor and against the walls without a gap between them.
Some shivered incessantly. Others stared into empty space, muttering to themselves. There were those whose fingertips and toes had turned black and withered.
It wasn't just the sick inside. Bodies that no longer moved were covered with cloths and shoved into corners. Everyone seemed to have given up even on carrying them out, fearing they would catch the "plague."
Groans. Sobbing. Voices calling out names over and over. The sounds filled the hall in a constant, mournful drone.
Without a cure, this was simply a place where people were brought to die. That was the reality of the clinic.
Several adults stood near the corners and the entrance. They were likely sent to confirm the report I had sent, but they didn't dare approach us. They didn't fully believe it yet—that this was all caused by poison.
But it didn't matter, as long as they watched me work. They would believe soon enough.
I knelt before the first patient.
I looked at him with my one open eye. His fingertips were starting to blacken and were trembling slightly. His symptoms were further along than Big Sister Therese’s had been, but the necrosis wasn't complete. If I removed the poison now, he might still recover.
I held my hand over him, kneeling my mana into the form of detoxification magic.
A green light bloomed from my palm and seeped into the man's body.
I focused on expelling the impurities and mending what had been damaged.
The shivering stopped. The color of blood returned to his blackened fingertips. His ragged gasps smoothed into deep breaths.
"...Ah."
The man opened his eyes.
A small stir ran through the adults watching from the shadows.
I turned to the slaves who had followed me from the manor.
"Please move the recovered patients to a separate area and bring the next person to me."
I moved on. The green light flashed again, and another person regained consciousness.
After I had cured several people, an old man in white vestments approached from the back of the hall. Now that they had seen proof of a cure, they must have summoned a high-ranking priest capable of detoxification magic.
"...Sister. Is that magic truly detoxification?"
"Yes."
"May I assume my casting will yield the same result?"
"Yes, it should."
The Priest slowly knelt before the patient next to me and held out his wrinkled hands.
A green light flickered to life.
The patient's tremors ceased, and their breathing stabilized. Under the Priest's hands, the poison was successfully purged.
The Priest stared at his palms with a conflicted expression.
"...If only I had realized sooner..."
"It couldn't be helped. Black Finger Disease hasn't been seen for over a hundred years. No one alive today has seen the real thing."
Encouraged by this success, other detoxification users timidly entered the hall. One by one, they knelt before the patients and summoned the green light.
Every time they did, another person sat up.
The adults who had been watching from afar no longer kept their distance. They began carrying patients, providing water, and supporting those who were waking up.
The atmosphere of death had been set ablaze by the sudden hope of survival.
But the influx of patients didn't stop. If anything, the number of people being brought in increased as rumors spread.
Though word had been sent to every available healer, there were only a few of us here. No matter how fast I worked, the line outside the doorway only grew longer.
It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
No matter how many I cured, I couldn't keep up. People were still collapsing. Somewhere, right now, someone was being poisoned. Unless we stopped the source, this would never end.
I beckoned over a guard from the Marquis's house standing in the corner.
"I have a request. Please, investigate whether the victims all consumed the same thing. Water from a specific well, food from the same shop—there has to be a common link."
The guard nodded, though he looked uncertain.
The green light flared, and another person sat up. I didn't stop. There were still more people being carried into the clinic. Even if it was just one more life, saving them was the only thing I could do right now.
◇◇◇
That night, I stood by the window of my office.
Reports from the clinic arrived by the hour. Whenever that person held out his hand, those who had been left for dead by the Black Finger Disease stood back up. Not a single doctor, priest, or slave who assisted him had fallen ill. Seeing this, even the most skeptical were finally convinced that this was no plague.
I must lift the blockade.
Our food supplies were critical. We needed to end the quarantine and restart transport immediately. However, the source of the poison remained a mystery. Even if I sent word that the city was "safe," the forces surrounding us would not take my word for it. They would demand proof.
If I claimed it was poison, I had to identify exactly what it was in a way that was undeniable.
Furthermore, the number of new patients showed no signs of slowing. Healers capable of detoxification magic were rare, and reports suggested thousands were already affected. If we didn't stop the source, the healers would eventually collapse from exhaustion, and we would be right back where we started.
Beyond the window, the darkness was punctuated by the bonfires of the troops blocking the highway.
I reflected on the message that person had sent through my guard—to find a common link among the victims.
For now, all I could do was pour every available resource into that investigation.
I continued to issue orders, one after another, late into the night.