CHAPTER THREE: The Deal

DAKU

Last night was surreal. Until now, I couldn't think straight as my mind was bombarded by the scenes that had happened recently. These scenes seemed to be playing on repeat like a broken record. I stopped mopping now and then whenever that very moment popped up in my head. The cleaning I thought would take only five minutes or so had already consumed almost ten minutes. I temporarily closed the shop for the morning to avoid suspicious judgment from the onlookers. With this blood on the floor, there was no doubt it would be a commotion.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and the stains were nonexistent. Deleted from this very plane of reality. The floor was as good as new after I had decided to mop its entirety. This was supposed to be done on weekends, but something came up and had to do it a bit earlier. I was certain that Grosi would find it perplexing, leading to suspicion. It was not a big deal since I didn't intend to keep this incident a secret from him. After all, he owned this place and he had the right to know everything that happened and would happen.

I slammed the mop back into its bucket, filled with brown, murky water with a hint of red tint from the blood. I heaved a deep relieving sigh and grabbed the tools I had used back to the shed. It was a separate structure from the house just adjacent to the workshop. Speaking of the workshop, it was colder than usual because of the unlit hearth and furnace. It was eerily silent as well and stagnant. No movement, as if the time in here froze.

I ignored it and proceeded with my journey toward the rear of the house. It took me not less than a minute to reach the shed, which I immediately went into to put back the tools I had used in cleaning. I first drained the bucket of its contents before placing it upside down to its original place, then squeezed the water out of the mop before hanging it on the wall.

I got out of the building and was about to return inside the house when I spotted an unconscious, probably dead, bird just beside the workshop's doorstep. Its wings were stretched, and its head was on one side. Its eyes were shut, and its faint breathing entailed that it was still alive and not dead.

Pity surrounded my body as I watched it. I wanted to help, but my expertise in apothecary apprenticeship only applies to humans. Grosi has yet to teach me about treating wounds and injuries on animals; even if I would, it would be impractical. So all I could do was look at it and wait for death to get it.

"I wonder," I mumbled as an idea came to mind. A similar thing happened last night. Clenching both fists, I approached the dying bird and knelt near it. I pointed my palms to the bird's body before heaving a body-relaxing breath. I closed my eyes and directed my mind to do the same thing I did to the swordsman. When a minute had passed, I opened my eyes only to find out that it didn't work. The bird was still in the same position as earlier. No response and no signs of being healed. I was disappointed. "That was a waste of time."

I never dared to try it again and decided to enter the house. It had been hours since I transported the swordsman into my room and onto my bed so he could rest comfortably. It was the reason I lacked sleep last night because, first, I had a patient to tend to, and second, I had nowhere else to sleep on. Grosi's room is off-limits, and I didn't have a spare sheet I could lay on the floor. And the floor was too cold for my liking.

I climbed up the stairs as soon as I reached it. Every step came with a question, inquiring about the stranger's condition. Is it awake already? Is he on the good side? Is he a criminal? Or did he die for good?

I finally arrived at the top of the stairs when the last question came. I was only a few inches away from my bedroom's door, but because of the anxiety I felt, it felt like miles. Taking every courage I had left since last night, I approached the door. It being closed added more thrill. It felt almost like a horror movie.

I took a deep breath before saying, "I'm coming in! Whatever your plans to catch me off guard, I advise you to stop. You owe me your life. At least think of that before killing me."

I pushed the door open with bravery until I got a full view of the room. No surprise attack. No sharp sword pointing at me. And most importantly, I was still alive. The swordsman was still reclined unconscious on the bed in the same position I left him earlier. His breathing was more evident and much more stable than then. The sword was leaning on the table just beside the bed. As far as I could remember, swordsmen preferred to sleep with their swords near them so that whenever there was an assault, they could readily defend and protect themselves. A rule that I should be doing if only I was classified as a swordsman.

But then I remembered, if it weren't for me, a Healer, he'd be dead by now. So, on the bright side, being a Healer wasn't bad at all, and this man made me realize that. Should the healing potions have worked, I wouldn't know that I was somehow useful. I thought. But something was still bothering me, and it had something to do with the healing potions: Why didn't they work? I stared at the man sleeping soundly on my bed as the question repeated on a loop.

***

I tried not to grab everyone's attention as I approached the kingdom's public archive. It was a repertoire of all the scriptures and texts ever published for public consumption since the beginning of time. I was on a mission to obtain information about the Healers that existed before me, hoping to find at least one decent reason to keep this ability.

"Hey!" Someone shouted. Even though I was unsure if I was the receiver of that call, I turned my head to see who it might be. To my surprise, it was Bernard. He looked the same since I last saw him. He gradually closed the gap between us as he held onto his sword strapped along his waist. When he was a meter away, he continued, "It's been a while! How have you been doin'?"

I was about to respond when I realized that talking to him in this crowded space was bad. He knew I was a Healer, and I couldn't afford to let everyone here know about it. "I'm actually in a hurry, Sir Bernard. I got to go," I excused myself and swiftly left without hesitation.

"What will a Healer like you be doing?" he asked, causing me to step even further. Eyes gaping and my heartbeat racing, I lowered my head to hide my face. He finally said it. Though oblivious to the truth, I knew many eyes were gazing at me. I bet others had already said something about me as a Healer.

"I-I'm sorry, but I have to go!" Those words came out rude, but I didn't care. What was important to me now was to leave this place and find somewhere seclusive. Somewhere, I could hold my head high without worrying about other people's prejudices.

Walking faster than I normally would, I reached the archive without noticing. I knew this was not the place I wanted myself to be in at the moment, but this was better than anywhere else. After all, this place was my original destination in the first place. Plus, there were fewer people here than out there, so this place was the right place.

I wasted no time and quickly went to the history section of the archive, which contained records of ancient times. Things that happened eons ago, even before this kingdom was founded. The archive was a vast collection of all literary works curated by various authors, and recklessly searching for a book without knowing where to look at it would take hours or even days. Luckily, I had known this place since I was twelve. For someone who couldn't afford to enroll in the academy, the archive was their go-to place to learn about stuff and life.

I also looked for possible encounters while scanning through each spine of the shelved books. Strangers that would make this search troublesome. So far, none had crossed paths with mine. But it would be a matter of time for that to happen.

"Finally!" I celebrated as my eyes caught something relevant. The title was "The Life of the Insignificant: A Healer's Autobiography." The words came as an insult, but the truth hurts. We, healers, were undeniably insignificant in this world where people could learn healing magic and use healing potions to heal themselves alternatively. What were we Healers left to do when something had already taken our job? Nevertheless, I was determined to bring the book home.

While on the way toward the reception, a shelf labeled "Curses and Seals" piqued my interest. And one person came into mind upon reading those words. With the new goal established, I entered the aisle and began scanning again for a book that would catch my attention. And there it was, "Anti-Heal: Curses Against Healing," seemingly waving at me, waiting to be picked up.

Without hesitation, I snatched it from the rest of the books and returned to my initial plan. Upon reaching the reception, the librarian immediately inspected the books and stopped when she got hold of the former one.

"I never knew this existed. There was only one record here of its lending a few years ago," she commented. Please don't ask if I'm a Healer. "If you like, you could take this home forever—no need to return. No one wants it, anyway," she offered, which warmed my heart not only because she didn't poke his nose into knowing my Class but also for the offer that I could keep the book.

"I would appreciate it, ma'am," I accepted as a smile curved my lips.

***

I arrived home with beads of sweat on my forehead, trying to find the safest route that I could take just to avoid Bernard. If I had to keep my class concealed from everyone I must avoid Bernard and the Unnamed Guard he was with on my appraisal.

In response to my dried throat after excreting all the fluids out of my body through sweat, I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. But instead of relief, I felt the opposite. Eyes gaping, I watched as the man I thought was still sleeping in my room drank a pitcher of water in one go. Bits of water escaped from the corner of his lips, damping his tattered shirt.

I could definitely tell he knew my presence since I could see his pupil at the corner of his eyes as if trying to see his rear. But he seemed like he didn't care. He probably knew that I didn't stand a chance against him. 

He chugged the last drop of the liquid, followed by an expiration. "You're back," he said in his deep, resonating voice. Those words were harmless, but his voice made them hostile. He pivoted himself to face me and scratched his naped while averting his eyes from mine, an indication of shame. "I woke up alone and thirsty, so I decided to grab a drink. Sorry for drinking all the water, by the way."

I held the books closer to my body before responding, "It-It's fine. You need it anyway. I'm glad you're awake. I thought you were a goner."

"Thanks to you, I lived," he commended without hesitation. "It's my first time to meet a Healer."

"Say your insults already." I lowered my gaze.

"You might be wondering why I didn't help myself using healing magic or why your potions didn't work on me. That is because I am cursed," he announced, returning my eyes to him. He was looking outside the window with his eyes full of desires. "No healing magic nor potions can heal me. That's why I had to train hard to better protect myself from getting severely injured. Three days ago, I found a lead to the answers to my curse, but we got into trouble with a high-level monster. I wasn't careful enough..."

Why is he telling me this?

"Just say your point already so you can leave," I protested.

He looked at me, eye to eye. "I'd like to propose a deal with you, Healer. Join me in my quest to lift this curse," he invited with full conviction. He wasn't joking.

"And why should I?"

"Because we both know that only I can give purpose to you as a Healer. You need me," he claimed, hitting a nerve within me. How dare he dictate my life purpose. He slowly walked toward me while I stared at him with furrowed brows. When he was a meter away, he added, "I need you."

And those words stirred up something inside me that I couldn't figure out why.