Hailey Wales Up!

"I…"

Hailey's voice faltered as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Her pupils shrank, her gaze locked on the changes in her body.

Her fingers trembled as they reached out to touch the small, fleshy growths sprouting from her arm. The granulation tissue pulsed faintly, alive in ways that filled her with horror.

"No… no, no, no…" she muttered under her breath, her voice cracking as panic began to claw its way into her chest.

This couldn't be real.

Her face twisted in disbelief, her mind struggling to reconcile the creature in the mirror with the person she had been. She wanted to deny it, to reject it, but no matter how many times she blinked or pinched herself, the truth didn't change.

She had become… a monster.

"No! This can't be me! I'm not… I'm not this thing!"

Even though Luther had tried to reassure her, telling her she wasn't a monster, his words couldn't reach the screaming voice in her head. To her, there was no other way to see it. The person she once was, the Hailey she knew, was gone.

She stumbled backward and collapsed to the floor. Her breathing turned ragged, tears streaming down her face. Then, as though the horror of it all suddenly erupted, she let out a cry and began clawing at the growths on her arm.

"Get off me!"

Her nails dug into the tissue with wild desperation, tearing at it until pieces of the fleshy growth came away in her hands.

"I don't want you here! You're not part of me! Get out! Leave!"

Her voice rose into a scream as blood welled up from the torn skin, revealing scarlet muscle beneath. For a moment, she thought she had succeeded; only to watch, horrified, as the granulation tissue began to grow back almost instantly, sprouting anew.

Her composure shattered. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, her hands limp at her sides as despair took over.

Luther stood a short distance away, watching her with a calm, steady gaze. He didn't say a word. He didn't interfere.

This wasn't the first time he'd seen something like this.

Hailey had been like this all morning, vacillating between denial and fragile hope. She had woken up earlier, clinging to the belief that everything she'd seen and felt was just a bad dream.

At first, she had smiled to herself, relieved. "It wasn't real," she had whispered. "I'm still me."

But Luther, standing silently by, had only looked at her with quiet pity.

It wasn't his way to let people live in comforting lies. Reality, no matter how cruel, needed to be faced.

Without a word, he had carried her in front of the mirror, forcing her to see the truth.

Her reaction had been immediate and devastating. She broke apart. Screamed. Cried. Raged.

Now, hours later, Hailey lay slumped on the floor, her emotions spent.

Luther, ever composed, adjusted the linen ropes he had wrapped around the sharp corners of the room. He worked methodically, ensuring that nothing dangerous could be used against herself or him.

"Cry," he thought silently as he worked. "Let it out. The only way through this is to release it all."

After a long while, the room grew quieter. The sound of her sobbing slowed, then stopped.

Hailey pushed herself to her feet. Her face was streaked with tears, but her expression had hardened into something distant, almost hollow.

She began to pace the room slowly, her gaze on the floor. Luther leaned against the window, watching her without speaking. He could tell what she was doing.

She was searching.

"Go ahead," he said in his mind, his voice calm. "Look for something sharp. Something you can use. But you won't find it. I've made sure of that."

After a while, she stopped abruptly, her back turned to him. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Then, as though she couldn't hold it in any longer, she spun around to face him.

Her eyes burned with anger, frustration, and despair.

"Why?" her expression seemed to scream. "Why did you have to shatter the illusion? Why force me to face this?"

Luther met her gaze without flinching, his own expression calm, almost detached. He didn't speak, letting his silence carry his answer.

Reality needed to be faced.

Hailey clenched her fists tighter, her whole body trembling with the effort to hold herself together. Suddenly, with a cry, she lunged at him, her movements wild and unrestrained.

In an instant, she leapt toward the open window next to him, desperation in every movement.

Luther moved quickly, catching her mid-air and pulling her back. As he wrestled her to the ground, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

He winced but didn't let go.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath. "You bite like a wild dog."

Despite the sharp pain, he remained steady, his grip firm but not punishing.

"If biting me makes it easier, then bite all you want," he thought. "Whatever's tearing at your heart is worse than anything you could do to me."

Her fists began pounding against his chest, her blows frantic and weak. Slowly, her strength ebbed away, replaced by exhaustion.

Luther let out a soft sigh. Reaching out, he gently ruffled her hair, his movements slow and careful.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Hailey's voice broke the silence, flat and devoid of emotion.

"Put me down."

Without hesitation, Luther released her, letting her stand on her own. She walked silently across the room, her movements mechanical, and climbed into the bed. Pulling the quilt over herself, she curled up and turned away from him.

Luther watched her for a moment, then shrugged lightly.

"Alright," he said softly. "You're the patient. And the patient's always right."

He leaned back against the wall, his expression calm but thoughtful. As a doctor, he'd dealt with all kinds of tempers and breakdowns, but Hailey's resolve impressed him. She had fought against herself, fought against him, and still held herself together; barely, but enough.

And in his experience, that was the first step toward healing.

Luther strolled across the room, settling into the worn office chair with an air of practiced calm. He leaned back, resting one arm on the armrest, and extended his right index finger in front of him. A faint shimmer appeared at the fingertip, and slowly, a translucent bubble about the size of an egg began to form, wobbling delicately in the dim afternoon light.

With a small flick of his finger, the bubble floated lazily toward the table. It drifted for a moment, almost suspended in time, before it touched the surface and burst with a soft pop.

Of course, it was harmless.

There was no plague inside. Luther hadn't added one.

This curious ability—Epidemic Bubble—was one of the many strange gifts he had acquired from Nefertir. He found it oddly fascinating, though its true utility lay in its darker potential, a power he hoped he wouldn't need to use anytime soon.

For now, it was just a distraction, a way to pass the time as the slow hours of the afternoon ticked by.

He glanced at Hailey, still curled up under the quilt on the bed, a motionless lump. The first day was always the hardest.

Facing reality: especially a reality this cruel, was like being stripped bare and thrown into the freezing cold. But Luther knew that if Hailey could make it through today, she'd begin to take the first, faltering steps toward acceptance.

Still, it wasn't enough to just leave her to wallow. Despair, left unchecked, was dangerous. It could drown her in a bottomless abyss. She needed something more. Something to hold onto. Hope.

Luther absentmindedly conjured five more bubbles, letting them dance across his fingertips before popping them one by one. The faint sounds of bursting broke the silence in the room.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but deliberate:

"Hailey, do you want to be beautiful again?"

There was an almost immediate response from beneath the quilt. The lump shifted slightly, hesitantly. Luther didn't push. He kept his tone neutral, his focus still on the bubbles as though he hadn't noticed the movement.

Moments passed, and then, slowly, a head emerged from under the sheet. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her face was shadowed, but her wide, bloodshot eyes peered out with a mixture of suspicion and fragile hope.

"You're lying," she mumbled hoarsely, her voice muffled by the quilt. "There's no way I can be beautiful again. Not like this."

Her words were sharp, but Luther didn't miss the nervous edge in her tone, nor the faint glimmer of anticipation that betrayed her.

He turned to her, quirking an eyebrow, and popped another bubble.

"I don't lie, Hailey. It's possible. It's in Grendel Province."

His words hung in the air, deliberate and measured.

Hailey froze, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "Grendel Province?" she repeated, her voice wavering with doubt.

Luther leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, reassuring smile. "That's right," he said, keeping his tone light. "I looked into it last night. There's a path for extraordinary individuals to regain what they've lost, or even surpass it. You're not beyond hope. You're still human. And where there's humanity, there's a way forward."

Hailey's gaze faltered, her hands clutching the edge of the quilt tightly. "But… how? What do I have to do?"

Luther didn't sugarcoat his answer. "I don't have all the details yet. I only know it's possible. There's someone in Grendel Province who might hold the answers. We'll have to find them, figure out the risks and requirements. It won't be easy, but the goal is clear."

He paused, watching her carefully. "If there's a way, we'll find it. Together."

For a long moment, Hailey didn't respond. Then, her lips quivered, and she pulled the sheet over her face again. From beneath the fabric, her voice wavered:

"Woo… If you're lying to me, Luther, you're the worst. You'd be a liar and a dog!"

A soft chuckle escaped Luther as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Do I look like the type to lie to you?" he asked, his voice warm, tinged with amusement.

The quilt shifted slightly, and Hailey peeked out from beneath it again, her eyes uncertain but a little less guarded this time.

"You better not be," she muttered, her voice trembling. "You promise?"

Luther met her gaze, and this time, his expression softened completely. He gave her a gentle smile, the kind of smile that had once reassured countless patients in his past life.

"I promise," he said simply. "And you'll see for yourself soon enough."

Hailey's face lit up, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. She sat up suddenly, her movements sharp and filled with renewed energy.

"Alright! I want to go to Grendel Province!" she declared, her voice growing louder. "Take me there, Luther!"

But just as quickly as her enthusiasm blossomed, Luther shook his head gently, stopping her in her tracks.

"Not yet," he said firmly.

Hailey's face fell, her shoulders slumping. "Why not?" she asked, her tone crestfallen.

Luther leaned back, folding his arms as he gave her an expectant look. "Because you owe me something first," he said. "You haven't told me the story of the vertical pupils yet. Not in person."

The mention of the story seemed to hit a nerve. Hailey's expression crumpled, and her shoulders began to shake.

Luther knew immediately, she was crying again.

But he didn't interrupt. She needed this.

After a moment, Hailey wiped at her tears with trembling hands and looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she began to speak.