Chapter 2 Tusha-1

Glocara sat cross-legged on the relatively dry grass, frowning, her right hand resting on her left shoulder, holding down the lifted shirt. A sudden sting radiated from the center of her spine, like sharp ice breaking into the water. She couldn't help but shrink her shoulders.

"Don't tense up so much, Miss Glocara. You're a good doctor, but you also need to learn to be a good patient," Tusha said, continuing to thread the needle through Glocara's skin, stitching up the nearly four-inch-long black-red wound. Two nights ago, when they escaped, a burnt piece of wood stabbed her back. Due to the delayed treatment, it was destined to leave a visible scar. In the most optimistic scenario, it would later appear as a harmless little birthmark, easy to ignore, rather than a shadow left by the nightmare devouring the skin.

"Is it getting better?" Glocara asked half a minute later. Just as she spoke, she heard the sound of Tusha cutting off the excess thread.

"It's done, but don't rush. I'll clean it for you. ... Now, it's finished."

Glocara quickly lowered the clothes behind her. She could clearly feel the moment when the fabric touched the wound. She heard Tusha behind her putting the tools into a snake-skin pouch at her waist, and the strong smell of medicine lingered in the damp jungle.

"Thank you."

"Just a small effort, just a small effort."

Glocara fell silent for a moment. She could still vividly recall that moment. The humidity in the jungle was the thick smoke, the vines entwining the big trees were flames engulfing the surface of pillars, and the distant animal cries turned into human screams crushed into fragments in the high temperature. How many people escaped? There's no way to know. Those patients who couldn't even move and the opium addicts who were drowsy, it was impossible for them to escape. Their only hope was that someone would hear their screams. Glocara heard — heard only. She counted in her heart: ten, twelve, thirteen... These were the number of people in the room when the fire started. So she continued to count, two, three, four... Four. Four was the number of people she saw escape — one of them was on fire all over, and the fire on him ignited the broken boards that made up the lower level of Booty Bay, so more fires ignited — like a fierce beast displaying its strength when dividing territory, the stench rising from the depths of the swamp, a series of rolling thunder roaring from between the black clouds — more houses burned, more people died.

"I mean... all of this," Glocara said.

"What's the matter?"

"You saved me."

"That's easy to say, Glocara, you're my employer. I thought you were about to fire me just now."

"Now go do what you promised."

Glocara stood up and went to pick up a cloth bag lying nearby. Bending down was not a problem, but as soon as she lifted the bag an inch off the ground, she couldn't hold it anymore, considering her back injury and the overall soreness, not to mention that the bag contained four hundred and ninety-two gold coins.

"Let me do it. I suppose you don't need me to remind you; patients shouldn't do strenuous activities."

Tusha grabbed the cloth bag with both hands and continued walking deeper into the jungle. Glocara followed her.

"I never thought, with such a big fire overhead, you'd still think of saving this stuff," Glocara said.

"According to human standards, isn't it natural to save the most valuable things? I've been around humans for too long, completely accepting this concept."

"What about those people? The ones burned to death, how do you view them?"

"I only know you, Miss Glocara, I don't know the others. Besides, some of them were seriously ill, and some were already too injured by the 'dinner.' You should be the one who will live the longest in that house, Miss Glocara. So, no matter how you think about it, saving you and the gold coins is the most reasonable."

"Fine." Glocara wanted to refute something, but couldn't say it. After all, she was the one receiving help; after all, she didn't have the position to refute Tusha.

"Gold coins are always useful, but unfortunately, now we have to..."

Tusha suddenly stopped walking, gesturing for Glocara to crouch down. The two immediately huddled behind a large clump of grass, and Glocara voluntarily suppressed her breath. This wasn't the first time they had to do this, so she reacted quickly.

Through the cracks in the grass, they saw two hunters passing by twenty yards away. They were arguing about where to set traps and what to have for lunch. Soon, they walked away.

"Just ordinary hunters," Tusha said. "You can go now, Miss Glocara."

Glocara stood up, patting the grass and dust off her body. She didn't immediately take a step.

"Tusha, I want to ask you something."

"Please say."

"Before you came to Booty Bay, did you do anything unsavory or get pursued by someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem very experienced in running away. I never noticed it before."

"After all, I'm a troll, Miss Glocara. I always had a bit of survival experience in the jungle. Living with humans for so many years doesn't mean I forgot the basics learned since childhood."

Tusha's answer didn't find any fault, but Glocara wasn't satisfied. The troll, who had been timid in the face of conflicts for the past few years, turned into a different person in some moment the night before last. Frankly, when Tusha smashed open that burning door, Glocara even doubted whether she had mistaken the person. She thought he had long escaped into the sea for his life.

Although she couldn't let it go in her heart, Glocara decided to put this question behind her. After all, when she made Tusha her assistant, she told herself: don't inquire into his background. As long as he does a good job, everything else doesn't matter. Anyone trying to make a living in Booty Bay must have their own story.

They entered a small cave.

"Here," Tusha said, "Is this far enough? No signs of camping nearby, and no traces of wild animals."

"I think... it's enough."

"Well, then," Tusha threw the bag of gold coins on the ground and took out a short knife. "Dig."

"I'll do it."

Glocara squatted next to Tusha and, since there were no tools, snatched Tusha's short knife. In no time, she dug a deep enough hole and placed the cloth bag inside.

Four hundred and ninety-two gold coins left by younger brother Idoli. Originally five hundred, Glocara used eight to purchase medical equipment and repair the house. The remaining sum, she had no idea how to use, so she temporarily kept it. And now, she had to repeat her brother's actions—bury them. Because it was impossible to travel with so much money.

A sudden and unexpected fire burned down the White House, so the recently spent eight gold coins were essentially melted. At that time, besides Glocara and Tusha, there were probably thirteen people in the house, including patients and temporary guests. The spreading fire burned down at least seven or eight houses. If it weren't for the lucky heavy rain, burning down a whole street wouldn't be surprising. According to the unwritten rules of Treasure Bay—where no one bothered to investigate fires in the lower district—escaping Glocara and Tusha became arson suspects. They had no choice but to leave, because in Booty Bay, the term "suspect" lacked its original meaning. The goblins had posted a wanted notice, perhaps the most convenient order in the world, as it had no connection with terms like questioning, judgment, etc. As long as this piece of wanted notice served as a guarantee, those lower-class civilians who lost their friends and relatives in the fire had the right to beat the "suspects" to death on the street.

"Wait a minute, Miss Glocara. Are you really burying them all?"

"Didn't we agree on this? What do you want?"

"I don't care; you should keep some on you. Taking around twenty shouldn't be a problem. Twenty-five is fine too. Money, you should take as much as possible; there's no harm, only benefits..."

Glocara thought for a moment, then quickly opened the bag, grabbed a handful, scooped out about twenty, and then sealed the bag again even faster. She just wanted to finish this as soon as possible and tried her best not to think about how Idoli felt when he did something similar. After deeply burying the bag in the soil, she sat silently, motionless, and didn't speak. The pain on her back gradually transformed from a sting into a slow, calm rhythm, as if it was going to gradually merge with her pulse.

Tusha didn't urge Glocara, just looked at her back and then outside the cave. If you climbed a slightly higher mountain, you could still see the thick smoke that hadn't completely dispersed from the ruins of the lower district of Booty Bay. Perhaps since yesterday, the term "Lady Death" had taken on a new meaning for the residents who once knew Glocara. Of course, many people had received her care and benefitted from her favors, but it was hard to imagine that after this extremely chaotic fire, people could recall her with rationality. Born in the White House in the lower district of Booty Bay, she almost grew up on her own while raising her younger brother, becoming an illegal doctor, someone who took useful parts from corpses, the person who threw bodies into the sea, Lady Death, his employer, the one who accepted her brother's bequest of five hundred gold coins with complex expressions, the one who used eight gold coins to repair the house, the one who survived the fire, a fugitive, the one who couldn't understand why a fire took away everyone.

But Tusha understood. He knew who did it. He also knew that if it weren't for his presence, that person wouldn't have done such a thing.

"It's time to hit the road, Miss Glocara."

"Where to?"

"Just go, let's go."