The day stretched out before Harold like a long, gray corridor with no doors.
No fire to tend.
No arguments over food.
No half-glares thrown his way whenever he asked if he could "just try one more cast."
Just him.
And the stone chamber.
And silence.
He sat for a long time on the edge of the raised bed, staring at the scraps of plaster littering the floor.
Jini's second last cast, torn away in a single swipe of her claws, lay in broken fragments like a grave marker now.
Only to watch as it slowly melted into the floor, disappearing just as easily as Jini herself had.
Instead, his fingers worried at his palms, rubbing small circles into the muscle below his thumb.
Then along the edge of his hand.
Then pressing down into the pads of his fingers, harder, softer, almost like kneading dough.
It wasn't deliberate.
Not at first.
Just nervous energy leaking out through restless hands.
Ding.
Harold blinked.
"Huh?"
He glanced around, as though expecting Jini to roll her eyes from the corner of the room.
Of course she wasn't there.
The only reply was the hollow echo of his own voice.
Still, the sound was unmistakable.
A system chime.
He frowned, rubbing his hand again, can't the system give him a friggin break even just for a moment?
Hell even mute that dinging sound he'd hear everytime he completed some simple task like securing a bandage.
Whatever, his thoughts delved inwards, choosing to ignore the system and its endless alerts, he'd only been in this world a week, the more he thought about it the more, it made sense though.
His body had reverted to a younger age so why couldnt his mind?
Sure he still had fifty years worth of memories but the brain within this body had never gone through any sort of emotional tempering.
Thats why when Jini left it felt like a betrayal, like she'd been a girlfriend who'd declared she was breaking up with him to go date his best friend instead.
The rest of the day followed that same pattern.
He sat.
He sighed.
He rubbed at his hands, pressed along the webbing of his fingers, massaged circles into his wrists.
Sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing, just carrying on performing this nervous twitch to cope as he attempted to settle the ongoing chaos brewing in his mind.
Thankfully his focus had sharpened or his request for the dings to stop was heard by the system or the very gods themselves.
He sighed, rolling onto his back on the bed.
Strange how quickly he'd grown used to the discomfort of the stone slab.
With Jini occupying it, he'd taken to sleeping while seated, upper body sprawled across the tables surface.
Now, with it returned to him, he stretched wide, arms behind his head.
It wasn't comfortable, not exactly, but it was his again.
Still, the thought left a bitter taste.
The truth gnawed at him: Jini wasn't really lost.
She hadn't died.
She hadn't abandoned him in anger.
She'd simply… gotten better.
Well enough to leave.
Well enough not to need him anymore.
That was supposed to be the goal, wasn't it?
A healer's whole purpose was to get their patient back on their feet.
To make themselves unnecessary.
So why did it feel like failure?
He rubbed at his wrist harder, chasing away the dull ache rising in his chest.
He rolled over and stared at the cave ceiling.
Thoughts spiraled in restless loops.
He had food—jerky and berries and the occasional bitter nut.
He had water from the stream outside.
He had a bed once more.
And yet…
His eyes drifted to the mouth of the cavern where she had walked out.
What remained of the days sunlight spilled across the stone, harsh and white.
Beyond it lay the city—he hadn't even seen it yet, but the idea of it loomed larger than the walls of the cavern itself.
A city filled with people like her.
Or worse.
Stronger, sharper, more alien.
Beasts in armor.
Tentacles in every shadow.
A thousand sneers ready to cut him down before he even said "hello."
He shuddered.
"Yeah, nope. Hard pass."
And yet, food would run out eventually.
He'd already done the math.
A week if he rationed carefully, maybe two if luck handed him a few more bushes filled with fruits or nuts.
After that, city or starvation.
His stomach turned.
He pressed a thumb into the hollow of his palm, digging into the tender spot until it hurt, letting out a growl as he let the pain he felt inside out.
He couldnt help it, here he was a 50 year old baby, bawling his eyes out because his first crush ran out on him.
Except that wasnt even what had happened.
Even mocking the system for not giving him a psychology skill so he could repair the damage a single real patient had dont to his psyche.
Whatever, just trying to relax as his own hands operated on autopilot, roaming his wrists, forearms, shoulders, neck.
He had to admit it felt nice after a while, like it wasnt himself providing the massage, and the longer it went on the more calm he was feeling even if it was only a sliver at a time.
It was only when he was just about to slip off to sleep in the darkness that he remember about the system chimes going off earlier in the day.
Might as well check on my progress before bed, give me something to be happy about rather than leaving things as they are only to get the best nightmares of my life.
Status
Host: Harold Greene Age: 17 (Life-expectancy of current species 300 years)
System Mode: Intern Core
Skills:
Stitching [Level 1] 22.3/100
Dressing [Level 2] 0.1/1000
Diagnosis [Level 2] 0/1000
Debridement (Wound Cleaning) [Level 0] 6.4/10
Splinting [Level 2] 51.7/1000
Suction [Level 0] 0/10
Acupressure [Level 2] 33.1/1000
Casting [Level 2] 3.6/1000