Chapter 52.3: For The Sake of Secrets

  Never ask more questions than you need. That was the creed every member of the Seah family lived by. Yet Jeremiah had to consciously rein in his curiosity. There had to be more than what he had read from old records. He gulped. If he were to take a stab at the tension between Dante and Dr. Lee, he would not be able to make a dent in it.

  Man, I gotta stop thinking too much about this! Jeremiah tugged at his collar as he gulped again, watching as the fabric of Dante’s top slid off to reveal his bare torso.

  Scars crisscrossed the skin of Dante’s chest. Most of them were largely faded, and prior preliminary observations told Jeremiah that most of them were from accidental injuries. However, there was one scar that intrigued him. It was perfectly perpendicular to Dante’s left collarbone and no larger than a coin slot on a piggy bank. Its edges were startingly clean, as though someone had deliberately carved a section of flesh out of Dante’s body with a scalpel.

  But it was the scars on Dante’s back that made Jeremiah forget the most gruesome of injuries he had encountered on his job. As he guided Dante onto his stomach, he turned his gaze away, but images of it leapt to the forefront of his mind.

  Jagged scars of varying thickness and lengths wove the skin on Dante’s back. There was not a shred of untouched skin on it. Jeremiah could tell that many of the scars healed badly as portions of the skin had fused to form bumps that resembled melted wax. Though Dante was a stranger to Jeremiah, his heart ached at the sight of such extensive injuries.

  No wonder Dr. Lee had to put Felix to sleep. It was to preserve his sanity.

  From his brief dive into the database, Jeremiah had gathered the necessary information. The injuries were caused by Halved Night, an infamous instrument for punishment. The whip was said to have thousands of blades woven into its fibres, imbued with the blood of the dozens of sliced fingers that worked on it. One strike from a vengeful wielder was fabled to cut the recipient’s remaining lifespan in half because of how devastating the lash was.

  Dante had been sentenced to death by a hundred and forty-six strokes of Halved Night for first-degree murder. The most inane questions filled up the inside of his head; questions that he answered himself to distract from the horrid sight. How did you survive? No doubt Dante’s Will had been stronger. Did they know you survived? If they did, there would be no need for such secrecy. Who did you kill? A person, of course. All lives were equal, and the murder of a politician was just as heinous and despicable as that of a destitute person. Strangely, the name of the victim had been redacted in the reports he perused.

  “Jeremiah.”

  “Y-Yes?!” Jeremiah’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Put the cat in its carrier,” Dr. Lee said as he pointed at the long-haired cat. “It’s going to get in the way.”

  Nova had been rubbing its nose on the side of Dante’s head as he lay face down. Jeremiah scooped it into his arms easily. It was like carrying a baby, and he had plenty of experience dealing with babies. There was some resistance from Nova as it twisted in his arms, but he managed to coax it into its carrier after much gentle insistence.

  “It’s only going to take a while. Is that alright, baby girl? I won’t close the gate,” Jeremiah said as he slammed the gate in Nova’s face.

  Nova’s yowls came at the same time as Dante’s scratchy shout of pain. Jeremiah turned to see that Dr. Lee had inserted two needles in his back. A bridge of purple Essence linked the tops of the needles, and Dr. Lee twisted raw, white Essence with it, drawing out another groan that was muffled with a pillow to the mouth.

  “Please don’t suffocate yourself,” Jeremiah said softly as he rubbed Dante’s shoulder. “Or bite your tongue off.”

  Dante turned his head to glare at him. His eyes were like cracked glass. A line of spit rolled down his stubbled chin as he gasped.

  “Okay, talk to me,” Jeremiah whispered as he cast a glance at Dr. Lee, who was preparing yet another needle.

  “I… don’t really want to…” Dante squeezed his eyes shut. The bed shook slightly from the trembling of his body.

  “Trust me, it will take your mind off the pain,” Jeremiah said. “It’s common for scars to hurt. Do your scars flare up?”

  Dante nodded haltingly just as the third needle pierced his skin. Blood oozed from his lower lip as he bit into it to stop himself from screaming. “I need you to think about any past flare-ups you’ve experienced,” Jeremiah urged.

  “When it’s cold… or about to… rain,” Dante choked out.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Ache…”

  “Hold on to that feeling. Whenever you feel a pinch, extend it so that it ebbs away to an ache.”

  Jeremiah held his breath as the fourth needle made its mark. There was a moment of silence and stillness before the needles started to vibrate. The next scream sank its claws deep into Jeremiah’s soul. Dante slammed his face into the pillows and heaved like a winded kettle.

  Shit, I made it worse!

  There was a soft clank as Dr. Lee dropped his next needle into a metal pan. “I can’t work like this,” he said flatly.

  “Why aren’t we giving him medication to manage his pain?” Jeremiah demanded.

  “You forget,” Dr. Lee said. “Medication dampens the flow of signals to the brain, which is not what we want in his treatment. I need every single thing to be alight when I reconnect what is broken.”

  With a wave of his gloved hand, Dr. Lee directed Jeremiah’s attention to Dante’s mottled back. “See as I see.”

  Without giving any warning, Dr. Lee leaned across the bed and grabbed Jeremiah’s head. Jeremiah gasped as his vision went dark and the bright yellow outlines of Dante’s anatomy sprang up. There was a gnawing pressure between his eyebrows as Dr. Lee pressed his thumbs against it.

  “What do you notice?” Dr. Lee asked.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I er… His back! The muscles!” Jeremiah struggled for words to describe what exactly he was seeing. “The… the external and internal oblique… Why are they partially fused?”

  Dr. Lee released his grip on Jeremiah’s head. Jeremiah let out a winded breath as his vision went back to normal. “Back then, the muscles in his back were nearly eviscerated by Halved Night. First Lady Meng and I had to do some rearranging and modifications to his body with the limited time we had. We established a new network of nerves, muscles, blood vessels and channels for Essence before we closed him up. It was an adequate job.”

  “But if you did all the repairs… why does the skin on his back still look like this?”

  “The lashes from Halved Night can never heal completely,” Dr. Lee said quietly. “It’s said that the shape of one’s soul can never regain its former glory when struck by it. Tell me, will you be able to lift your head after you have been struck so many times until your blood nurtures the next generation of seedlings?”

  Jeremiah opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He could only stare at Dante, who had been silent throughout Dr. Lee’s impromptu lesson. Their conversation and the pause in treatment had brought him temporary relief.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Dr. Lee answered his own question, his gaze hardening. “This is why it is extremely difficult to treat such injuries. You cannot expect a wound to close when the patient keeps digging their fingers into it, consciously or unconsciously.”

  Even then, we cannot let them suffer. Jeremiah rummaged through his pockets, searching for something that would alleviate Dante’s pain.

  “What are you looking for?” Dr. Lee asked.

  “Something with ridges or spokes.”

  Dr. Lee sighed audibly. He jerked his chin toward Felix. “Search that kid's pockets. He usually has a comb to preen his hair.”

  Jeremiah marched towards Felix. He ripped open the Velcro pockets and slid his hands into them. Sweets, receipts, hair sticks and keys tumbled out of them. Jeremiah’s heart leapt with delight as he felt the shaft of a comb. He returned to Dante’s side and tapped on his arm. Dante turned his head, his eyes fluttering open. Jeremiah had to swallow his guilt to meet Dante’s glassy stare and slip Felix’s comb into his hand. “Take this. Squeeze it whenever you feel pain,” he said. “You got this.”

  It was a trick that Jeremiah learnt to help pregnant women in labour manage their pain. It had to help Dante somehow; otherwise, he would truly be at a loss for the first time in his career. Every healthcare professional must have a Plan B to Z, Jeremiah. You can’t screw this up.

  Dr. Lee continued with the treatment, and by the tenth needle, the tremors subsided significantly. Jeremiah could see Dante’s hand squeeze around the comb every time a new needle was inserted. He no longer made a sound, aside from the occasional rustle when he wiped his sweat-slicked face into the pillow.

  Dr. Lee clicked his tongue and shook his head. “There’s quite a bit I have to do,” he remarked.

  “Could you teach me how this works?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Why else would I bring you here, hm? To be a cheerleader? To improve your bedside manners?” Dr. Lee eased another needle into Dante’s back with a deadpan expression on his face. “Watch what I am doing.”

  Dr. Lee pointed at the latest addition to the growing forest of needles. “First Lady Meng imbued these needles with her Essence, bestowing them with a subset of her ability: Spring Day. With my enhanced sight, I’m able to locate all the established nodes. Ideally, all nodes must have at least one child, and they should form a closed network so that they receive a steady flow of Essence should they become points of exit. Nodes with no children are called leaf nodes, and that is where I have to place a needle, as every node should have a backup supply. Because of how everything is so intricately intertwined, when I repair the paths, these needles also heal surrounding tissues.”

  “But I’m not like you,” Jeremiah spoke up. “I know this is similar to acupuncture, but in acupuncture, there is a standard diagram that I follow.”

  “And this is why I have prepared a detailed diagram for you and documents on how to treat this particular patient. He’s the only sorcerer with a hybrid core, two entities separated by a seemingly infallible barrier, so it adds many layers of complexity to his treatment,” Dr. Lee said. “But the key mechanism of this particular treatment is how the Essence network is repaired. Once there are two or more needles, the heads would light up and find their original parents. Once found, I have a line. What I have to do is to link these two nodes with raw Essence, and this meshes with First Lady Meng’s Essence to link these two nodes together and expand the new link.”

  “So it’s like a tube and stent mechanism?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Correct.” Dr. Lee picked up another needle and raised it to his face. It was the longest needle that Jeremiah had seen. “But the complexity lies in hitting the nodes that First Lady Meng had put in place all those years ago. Each is located at a different depth. Now, if you could hold his legs down for me.”

  Jeremiah found himself gripping Dante’s calves. This time, Dr. Lee practically shoved a good third of the needle into the small of Dante’s back. The muscles in Dante’s calves seized under his hands to the point that he could feel each sinew. Jeremiah grunted as he placed his weight to keep the legs from moving. There was a loud snap. Dante had broken the comb. Dr. Lee immediately went to turn Dante’s head to the side. The network of purple and white fizzled out rapidly before their eyes.

  “He passed out,” Dr. Lee stated. “We’ll take a break.”

  “This is torture!” Jeremiah rushed to attend to Dante. He fished out a small first-aid kit which he kept with him at all times. He had to carefully pry Dante’s fingers open to tweeze out the shards of plastic, which had drawn blood despite the thick calluses on his palm. His jaw clenched instinctively as he pressed a Remora pad over the torn skin, teeth grinding against the urge to curse at his mentor. “This isn’t the standard of care we should give him, even though he is a convicted criminal! For the sake—”

  “—of secrets.” Dr. Lee talked over him before Jeremiah realised his poor choice of words. Regardless of how it was completed, the mere utterance of that phrase dictated the completion of the secret.

  Jeremiah had to listen.

  “This treatment plan, if leaked, can arguably stain my career," Dr. Lee said. “So keep it to yourself, or you will never step foot in my office ever again.”

  The silence that followed allowed the chains to fully manifest and coil around Jeremiah’s middle finger on his right hand. It was also when Dante stirred, allowing the treatment to continue.

  By the time the treatment was finished, Jeremiah had no courage to meet Dante’s dull and half-closed eyes. He used up the whole pot of salve on Dante’s back. When Dante shivered violently despite having taken the medication for his fever, Jeremiah pressed a damp cloth against his forehead.

  “You should rest,” Jeremiah said.

  “Nova…” Dante croaked, his glassy eyes searching for his cat.

  Jeremiah released Dante’s beloved cat from its carrier. Nova hissed viciously at him before sprinting towards Dante. It made itself comfortable next to his head and purred loudly, eventually lulling Dante to sleep.

  “Should we wake Felix up?” Jeremiah turned to Dr. Lee, who was packing up the needles.

  Dr. Lee shrugged. “Your call.”

  Jeremiah tiptoed toward Felix. He stared down at the needle protruding from Felix's forehead, his hand hovering uncertainly above it. He swallowed hard.

  This was a terrible idea.

  Felix was going to kill him.

  With trembling fingers, Jeremiah finally plucked out the needle and gave Felix's shoulder a gentle shake. Then another, slightly firmer.

  Felix's eyes flew open.

  The next instant, Jeremiah's back slammed into the wall. Felix's eyes blazed with fury as he pressed his throat. Jeremiah clawed at Felix's arm, gasping for air as the grip tightened around his windpipe.

  “You knocked me out!” Felix snarled.

  “I—” Jeremiah’s legs swung uselessly. He had known this would happen.

  Heck, Dr. Lee did not even order him to wake Felix up.

  “Release him. Now.” Dr. Lee’s voice boomed. “Jeremiah answers to me, not you. And if I hadn't sedated you, that wall would be the least of our problems—you'd have burnt this room to the ground.” He set down the last of the needles. “Your friend is resting. He needs quiet. So I suggest you excuse yourself.”

  Felix's grip did not loosen immediately. His chest heaved with rage, but he finally released Jeremiah. The Flame Purist stormed toward the door and slammed it behind him. But the shadow of his feet remained visible beneath the doorframe.

  Jeremiah gasped, massaging his bruised throat. With a hoarse whisper, he let out his burning question. “Who was Dante’s victim to you?”

  But only the sound of silence graced the question.