CHAPTER 146: CH-146

My eyes tracked every shadow as we moved closer to the house.

Not that it mattered much. Even a child would outpace me in this pathetic excuse of a body.

"I’ll go first,"

She stepped forward and knocked on the wooden door. The sound echoed through the quiet forest, making the scene feel like something out of a horror story. The cold, damp air did nothing to ease the tension.

No one answered, so she knocked again.

knock! knock!

When no one replied, she kept knocking until footsteps moved toward the door.

creak!

The door opened, and a woman in full black stood before us. Her long dress hung straight down in thick fabric that brushed the floor.

However, what made her truly unforgettable was her height. She had to be at least six-foot-five. Elizabeth barely reached her chest, and I... well, I could hardly reach past her knee.

Her body filled the doorway, looming like a giant pretending to be human. In my defense, I was crawling, which made her seem even more enormous from my view.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here so late?" Her voice was calm but carried commanding attention without raising its tone

"Madam Agnes. My name is Elizabeth, and this is my friend Remus. We came hoping you could cure his ailment."

Agnes turned her attention to me. The veil covering most of her face hid many of her features, but when the light caught her just right, I saw a woman with a strict, almost nun-like bearing—yet undeniably pretty.

Still, her skin was unnaturally pale, almost like porcelain, giving her an otherworldly presence.

She studied me in silence, the faintest movements of her head suggesting curiosity more than judgment.

"I cannot help everyone who wanders here. And I certainly do not treat every ailment for free. You’ve come far for nothing if you expect mercy so easily."

Elizabeth’s hands trembled slightly as she stepped closer, her usual demeanor giving way to desperation.

thud!

She dropped to her knees, bowing low in the dirt.

"Please, Madam Agnes," she begged, her voice cracking. "Please help my friend. He was not born this way, but when we were young... he saved me from falling off a cliff. I have some money."

Agnes shook her head slowly. "Do you think gold alone can sway me? Child, you are still young, and your friend saved you of his own will. There is no need to carry guilt for that."

Elizabeth’s grip on the ground tightened. "Please... it’s my fault. I should have been careful. He didn’t deserve this, and now he suffers every day. I... I can’t stand seeing him like this!"

The healer’s gaze fell on me. Her eyes seemed to command me: stop your friend from drowning in guilt.

Why should I ? If she was hell-bent on blaming herself, then who was I to forgive?

Judging by her words, she had always been reckless, running into situations she shouldn’t and getting into trouble. That was just my take from what I had seen so far.

Carrying food alone in the forest at night? Heading to a suspicious-looking house?

And now, here she was, kneeling and begging for help from a healer who didn’t look the part at all. Honestly, her sense of danger was almost nonexistent.

"Please... I’ll do anything. I’ll—"

Agnes raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

"Anything?...Do you understand what you are asking? ’Anything’ is not a promise to me—it is a chain you bind yourself with. Are you prepared for the weight of that?"

"I... I don’t care . I just want him to have a chance to live a normal life."

Agnes let out a long sigh, her towering height bending slightly.

"You speak with conviction. And yet, you understand nothing of what this will cost. Many who come with hearts full of hope leave with nothing but regret."

Elizabeth swallowed hard but didn’t rise from her knees. "I’ll take that risk if means he can walk straight again."

For a long moment, the healer studied us in silence, her demeanor saying more than any words could.

"Very well. Come inside. But remember—once you enter, the choice is no longer yours alone. You follow my instructions, or you leave with nothing."

Elizabeth’s relief was immediate, her lips parting in a small smile. "Thank you, Madam Agnes. Thank you!"

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath our weight as we stepped inside, the air warmer and heavier than the night outside.

Lanterns hung from rough beams, casting flickering light over shelves packed with jars, herbs, and strange trinkets.

"Follow me."

She moved ahead of us, her presence commanding the space without a word.

When we reached what looked like a kitchen, a large bowl sat on the counter.

"Did you two eat already?" she asked.

"Yes, we did," I said, forcing the words out after catching sight of worms wriggling in the bowl.

Agnes said nothing more and led us to another room. This one was filled with shelves of herbs, stacks of books, and rows of vials.

The shelves groaned under jars of powdered bones, dried roots, and liquids that shimmered in the candlelight.

"You," she pointed at me. "Lie on the bed, on your stomach. I must examine your back first."

Nodding slowly, I lowered myself onto the bed, chest pressed against the rough mattress.

She circled me once, her eyes scanning my body carefully.

Then, she picked up a small bottle filled with dark oil.

Without a word, she poured a little onto her hands, rubbing them together to warm it. Then she pressed her palms gently to my back, spreading the oil in slow movements. The touch was firm but not harsh, kneading along the rough muscles.

"Tell me what you feel. Does it hurt? Is it warm? Cold?"

I flinched slightly as she pressed along a tight knot near my shoulder.

"It... it’s sore here. And... colder along my spine," I admitted.

She nodded, making marks on a small parchment she held, scratching notes with a charcoal-tipped stick.

Her hands moved over my back, pressing and kneading, searching for stiffness, swelling, or any unusual heat.

"And here?" she asked, pressing lower, near my lower back.

"It hurts much more than the others," I winced.

Agnes hummed softly, jotting more marks on her parchment.

"The injury was never treated properly. The bones fused in this position, and the surrounding muscles and tissue adapted around them. They shield the spine now, but that same growth locks it in place."

"Can you heal him?" Elizabeth’s voice quivered.

"Not with common methods. Massage, herbs, potions... they can ease pain or loosen some tension, but straightening what has formed this way... it will take more than what ordinary healers know."

"Then... is there another way?"

Agnes paused, weighing whether to answer or not.

Elizabeth didn’t relent. "Please... there has to be something. You’re the only one who can help him. Isn’t there any other method? Any... anything?"

Another sigh escaped Agnes’s lips, and she looked at Elizabeth as if she were foolish for being so fixated on my condition.

"There is a way... though it is not simple, and few would dare attempt it. I am in the midst of preparing a medicine—one that, in theory, can heal all manner of affliction, even injuries long since hardened and set."

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, hope flickering like a flame. "You... you mean it could fix him? Make him whole again?"

Agnes’s expression remained calm.

"In theory, yes. But there is a risk. If anything went wrong, your friend could lose his life."

I didn’t like the sound of that, but speaking up now would only put me in a tighter spot. I should focus on moving the simulation forward.

"I’m willing to take it."

Those words didn’t come from me. Elizabeth said them without a second thought. She had a habit of speaking for me, and now it left me with no choice but to gamble my life. Not hers.

Agnes nodded and reached under the table. A small wooden box slid out. She opened it, revealing four vials filled with a thick black liquid.

"This comes from a beast of which little is known. Its blood alone can mend flesh. I have taken it and processed it into something far more potent. This... I call the Moonshire Elixir."

"Is that even saf—"

Before I could speak, Elizabeth bowed her head. "Thank you for your kindness."

Great. So now even asking if I was being handed a straight‑up poison had become impossible, because a self‑appointed nanny kept making choices for me without letting me speak.

Agnes handed her a vial, and Elizabeth hurriedly opened it. "Drink this. It will make you feel stronger...and ease your pain."

Better to get this over with. The longer it dragged on, the more time slipped away. There weren’t any other choices or clues left anyway.

I pushed myself up a little, reached for the vial with trembling fingers, and lifted it closer to my face. The smell hit me first—metallic, sharp, almost like rust mixed with wet earth.

The liquid slid toward my lips as I tilted the vial.

One small sip.

A wave of heat rushed down my throat so fast it felt like swallowing fire. My body stiffened, and I nearly dropped the vial.

Elizabeth flinched. "Remus?!"

Agnes didn’t blink. "Don’t waste a drop. Drink all of it and endure. That’s the only way your body will mend."

Easy for her to say; she wasn’t the one dealing with the burning feeling running through my body. It felt like I swallowed water straight from a freshly boiled kettle.