The sound of knocking echoed at the door, followed by the stern voice of the grandmother calling from outside:
"The doctor has arrived."
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a man in his fifties with a light beard and sharp eyes behind round glasses. He wore a long brown coat stained with mud from his journey, and an old medical bag hung from his hand. Behind him came Jina, her face pale but composed, and Lilia, clinging nervously to her mother's hand.
The doctor nodded to everyone, then said calmly:
"Where is the patient?"
Oda silently pointed toward the bed. Olesya was lying there, her face terrifyingly pale, deep dark circles under her eyes, and her breathing was slow and worrisome. Her fingers were still dark, and her veins bulged black, like withered branches.
The doctor approached seriously, began examining her, moved her eyes, took her pulse, and asked:
"How long have these symptoms been present?"
The grandmother and Jina exchanged looks before the latter answered quietly:
"Just a few hours ago… this young man found her before it got worse."
The doctor gave Oda a quick evaluative glance, then turned his attention back to the patient. After several minutes, he finished the examination, sighed deeply, and said:
"This... is not a normal case."
The grandmother raised an eyebrow:
"You mean it's not a known illness?"
The doctor shook his head:
"It's more like something transitional… a rapid infection, but it doesn't follow any known pattern. The skin decays, the veins turn black, but the heart is still beating—slowly."
Lilia whispered in fear:
"It's the Black Withering… isn't it?"
The doctor gave her a silent look, then said:
"If it is, then it's in a very advanced stage, and I don't know how she's still alive…"
He paused for a moment, then added frankly:
"…There's no known cure for this illness. Some try sedatives… but they're just painkillers, nothing more."
The room fell into a heavy silence, like a thick curtain that only decisive words could lift.
Then Oda suddenly spoke, his voice calm and confident despite his exhaustion:
"We don't need sedatives… we'll find a real cure."
The doctor looked at him skeptically:
"And are you a doctor?"
Oda answered with a childlike tone, raising his bandaged hand:
"I'm just… a very eccentric man."
The doctor sighed deeply, then opened his old leather bag and pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper. It was a small, faded map from heavy use, marked with precise red ink spots.
He handed it to Oda and said seriously:
"This map shows several old clinics and labs in the city… Chicago."
Oda blinked lazily as he took the paper, then stared at it slowly as if trying to decode hidden symbols within.
The doctor continued:
"Most of these places have been closed for years, but some may still hold equipment, research files from old doctors… and maybe experimental drugs."
He looked directly at Oda and added:
"If you're serious about saving her, start with these points. But move quickly… her condition could collapse at any moment."
Oda gave a faint, grim smile and said:
"I don't promise miracles… but I have just enough madness to chase after one."
Then the doctor left, saying before closing the door: "Good luck."
Oda rolled up the map, tucked it into his coat, and stood up slowly, his body still heavy with fatigue, but his eyes filled with grim determination.
The grandmother approached him and said:
"If this is our only chance… go. We'll keep her alive as long as we can."
Then Ronwa interrupted with firm resolve: "I'm going too."
The grandmother's eyes widened, and she quickly snapped in anger:
"No! That's impossible. You will not leave this house—not a single step!"
Everyone in the room stood still, the silence thick as a curtain, waiting to be torn by decisive words.
Ronwa stood facing her grandmother, her eyes glistening with tears, her small body trembling with resolve. She was crying, but her voice was strong:
"I won't stay here while my mother dies out there! I want to help! I'm the reason Mr. Akamori is here! I opened that door! I must take responsibility!"
But the grandmother shouted back, her face tense, her heart breaking inside:
"No! I won't allow it! I already buried your twin with my own hands—I won't bury you too! Don't drag me back into that pain!"
Ronwa stepped back, then forward again, her voice shaking:
"Then let me live now… don't lock me inside fear! I'm scared too! But I want to be brave… for him… and for Mama!"
Everyone in the room — Jina, Lilia, the doctor, and Lucas floating silently in the air — remained quiet, watching the emotional clash.
Then Oda sighed very slowly, like someone too tired to argue.
He approached the grandmother and gave a half-theatrical, sarcastic bow:
"Miss Grandma… I completely understand your concern, and I truly get your refusal. Honestly… I don't respect it much."
The grandmother raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Oda continued with a serious tone that contradicted his sarcasm:
"First, no one can stop this little one if she sets her mind to something. Second, I'll be with her—and I happen to be the hardest creature to kill. Unfortunately."
He half-smiled and gestured to his injured hand:
"See… I'm rotting slowly but still running. Know why? Because this ridiculous child somehow makes me believe in something."
Then he leaned in slightly and whispered to her, softer and more sincerely:
"I'll bring her back, even if I break completely along the way. I promise you that."
The grandmother stood frozen, looking at Ronwa, who was clutching her fists to her chest, staring at her with deep, childlike pleading.
After a long silence… the grandmother closed her eyes and let out a searing sigh, as if exhaling a knot of years long tied inside her. Then she whispered:
"Come back… or don't come back alone."
Ronwa ran to her and hugged her tightly, crying and saying:
"I promise… I promise, Grandma!"