The night was cool and silvered, the kind of quiet that made thoughts echo louder than footsteps.Eiran walked alongside Luma, the city's hum a distant vibration beneath the street lamps.
"Luma," he said, eyes on the glimmering hospital across the road, "when we're in there, speak like a person, not a lab report."
She tilted her head. "Define 'person,' Master."
He sighed. "Someone who pretends to make sense of the world, but doesn't."
Her eyes flickered as if processing. "So… slightly confused?"
"Perfect," he said, smirking. "You'll fit right in."
System:I suggest maintaining professional conduct.
"Professionalism doesn't convince dying men," Eiran murmured, crossing the street. "Belief does."
At the entrance, a tall guard stepped forward, scanning them. "Sorry, visiting hours are closed—show your ID."
Before Eiran could speak, Luma stepped closer with a polite smile. "Of course." She touched the guard's wrist lightly. A faint spark of blue light flashed—barely visible.
The man froze, blinked twice, and then slumped gently against the wall, snoring.
Eiran blinked. "You just—"
"Short-term sleep induction," Luma said, smoothing her skirt. "He will dream of pleasant bureaucracy."
Eiran muttered, "I see subtlety isn't one of your features."
System:Effective methods require no apology.
"Efficiency's overrated," Eiran said, brushing past. "Charm wins wars."
The elevator hummed faintly as they rose. The hospital smelled like antiseptic and resignation — that sterile mix of medicine and fear.Eiran's reflection in the elevator glass looked calm, maybe too calm. His eyes, pale and quiet, carried the stillness of someone who had watched the world long enough to stop expecting it to change.
"Room 907," Luma said softly. "Eldric Vane. Billionaire industrialist. Admitted last night. Terminal systemic failure. Estimated life expectancy—"
"Don't finish that," Eiran said. "He already knows."
They entered the room.Machines blinked weakly beside the bed. Tubes, monitors, tired beeps — the orchestra of slow endings.
Eldric Vane lay propped up by pillows, his skin as pale as paper. His eyes opened as Eiran stepped in, their dullness sharpening with irritation. "Who the hell are you? I didn't call for another doctor. They've already tried enough experiments on me."
"I'm not a doctor," Eiran replied evenly. "They experiment with symptoms. I experiment with truth."
The old man chuckled weakly. "Truth doesn't heal organs, boy."
"Depends on what kind of truth you're chasing," Eiran said, stepping closer and pulling a small vial from his coat — faintly glowing, pale blue, like moonlight trapped in glass.
Eldric squinted. "What's that supposed to be? Another so-called miracle drug? I've swallowed enough promises to kill a whale."
"Then one more won't make much difference," Eiran said calmly.
That earned a dry laugh. "You've got confidence for someone half my age. What's in it?"
"Something beyond your medical dictionary," Eiran said. "An elixir. It can't reverse time, but it can extend your thread."
The old man's brows furrowed. "Extend… my thread?"
"Life," Eiran said simply. "For now."
Silence hung heavy between them — the kind that fills a room when reason meets madness. Then Eldric exhaled, the sound a quiet surrender."Why not? When you've been promised death, you start betting on anything. Even strange men carrying glowing bottles."
Eiran didn't respond, just passed him the vial. The old man stared at it for a heartbeat too long — then drank.
The change was slow, almost poetic.At first, nothing happened. Then the dull grey of his skin began to warm with colour. His breathing deepened, his eyes brightened, and the tremor in his hands stilled. The monitors beside him suddenly steadied, their erratic blips smoothing into rhythm.
Eldric stared at his own arms as if they belonged to someone else. His voice trembled, not from weakness now, but disbelief. "I… I can feel again. My chest doesn't burn. My fingers—" He clenched them into a fist, marvelling. "What in God's name have you given me?"
Eiran just watched quietly. "Proof."
"Proof of what?"
"That death's negotiable."
The old man turned toward him sharply, awe flooding through his voice. "The best doctors, the best machines—nothing worked. And you—" He laughed, breathless. "You walk in here with one bottle and undo what years couldn't. Who are you, boy?"
Eiran smiled faintly. "Someone who stopped being impressed by miracles."
Eldric's laughter softened. His tone shifted — no longer arrogant, but reverent. "Nothing in this world is free. What do you want?"
Eiran's gaze drifted to the window — city lights blinking far below like dying stars. "A place," he said. "Somewhere far from noise, from eyes, from laws. I need land — hidden, quiet, untouched. A foundation for… something new."
Eldric studied him carefully. "You sound like a man building a religion."
Eiran's lips curved in faint amusement. "Maybe a rebellion against one."
Luma, standing near the door, added softly, "He seeks knowledge, not worship."
The old man looked between them — the strange pair, the glow still shimmering faintly in Eiran's hand, the logic-defying medicine coursing through his veins. "You've got my attention," Eldric said finally. "And my curiosity."
"Keep them," Eiran said. "They'll be useful."
Eldric chuckled. "Tell me, where do you find words like that?"
Eiran shrugged lightly. "In books. Lots of them. Helps when you have no one else to talk to."
The old man smiled — not kindly, but with respect. "You're an odd one. But the world always moves because of people like you. You'll have what you need. I'll arrange the land, the money. Just promise me one thing."
"What's that?" Eiran asked.
"Whatever you're building…" Eldric's tone softened, almost pleading. "Don't let it die with me."
Eiran's eyes darkened slightly — not cold, but unreadable. "It won't."
As they left the room, Luma walked beside him, silent for a while before saying, "You handled that well, Master."
Eiran shrugged. "It wasn't persuasion. Just truth with better vocabulary."
System:Quest complete. Reward granted. Emotional loyalty secured.
Eiran ignored the glowing text in his mind. "System," he muttered quietly, "I think I understand humans a little more now."
System:Do you admire them?
He smiled faintly. "No. But I finally see why they keep chasing hope — it's the only thing that makes dying interesting."
Luma looked at him curiously. "And living?"
Eiran's gaze drifted to the horizon beyond the glass doors. "That's the harder question."
They stepped into the night. Somewhere behind them, a dying man was alive again — and the impossible had a new believer.