It Was A Snowy Night In The City Of Dinford.
The Snow Fell In Heavy Silence,
As If The Sky Were Trying To Bury The City's Filth Under A Cold White Shroud.
In One Of The Narrow Alleys,
Where Garbage Rotted And Mixed With Spoiled Food Scraps,
The Air Was Thick With The Stench Of Decay And Rust,
And The Silence Was Broken Only By The Distant Barking Of Dogs Echoing Between The Walls.
On The Stone Floor,
A Thick Layer Of Mud Covered Everything,
A Mixture Of Clay, Polluted Water, And Refuse,
And A Human Body Lay Motionless On It.
Blood Seeped Slowly,
Staining The Mud,
A Scene Resembling A Dark Chaos Painting,
Crimson Lines Cutting Through The Dull Colors Of Mud And Waste.
Then Came The Sound Of A Horse-Drawn Carriage Approaching.
The Carriage Stopped Near The Alley Where He Lay.
The Faint Sound Of The Horse And The Creaking Wheels Pierced The Silence.
The Vapor Of His Breath Began To Mix With The Cold.
Slowly He Opened His Eyes, Exhausted… His Vision Blurred… Everything Seemed Distant.
He Tried To Understand What Was Happening, But His Head Spun, And Thoughts Tangled.
Where Am I? What Is This Place?
He Tried To Move… Tried To Rise, But His Body Betrayed Him.
His Hands Could Not Lift Him, And A Strange Sense Of Cold Wrapped Around Him.
Then He Touched His Hand.
His Blood, Sticky And Cold, Spread Across His Fingers.
Where Was This Blood Coming From?
He Began Feeling His Body, Dragging His Hand Cautiously.
Stopped At His Chest, Where He Discovered The Deep Wound.
A Sudden Pain Struck Him, His Breathing Quickened.
His Body Suddenly Awakened To What The Cold And Unconsciousness Had Ignored.
He Wanted To Scream From The Pain, But No Sound Came Out, As If Someone Were Gripping His Throat.
Shadows Danced On The Walls From The Dim Gas Lamps' Glow.
As If Silently Observing, Waiting For Him To Comprehend What Was Happening…
Or To Exhale His Last Breath.
He Heard Voices Coming From Outside The Alley.
He Tried To Call For Help, But His Voice Would Not Come Out,
As If His Throat Had Dried Or The Words Had Frozen Inside Him.
He Repeated The Attempts, And Only Muffled Sounds Emerged: "Aa… Aa…".
Intermittent Sighs, Fragmented Breaths, Exhausted Groans Expressing His Fear And Pain.
He Decided To Try Standing, But His Body Did Not Respond.
Sharp Pain And Extreme Exhaustion Overwhelmed Him.
With Each Attempt, He Emitted Tense, Painful Sounds, Yet He Failed.
His Tired Eyes Scanned The Surroundings, Right And Left,
Until They Fell On An Old Rotting Barrel, From Which Mud Mixed With Water And Spoiled Food Overflowed.
He Tried To Crawl Toward It, Dragging His Body Over The Filthy Mud.
Finally Reaching It, And Tried Again To Stand… But His Limbs Lacked Strength.
Angry At Himself, Amid Intense Pain And Exhaustion,
His Tears Fell, And He Finally Managed To Stand, Leaning Against The Wall, Slowly Dragging His Feet.
Outside, The Sounds Seemed To Have Calmed,
As If Those Who Had Been There Finished What They Were Doing And Left.
Fear And Anxiety Clung To Him, Tears Streaming.
He Tried To Call For Help Before They Vanished:
"... Aa... ....Aa ...."
"... Aa... Aa..."
"…..Aah!"
".... Ah... Ah"
Then, After A Moment Of Effort And Struggle, His Voice Finally Emerged.
But Too Late.
The Sounds Of The Horse And Carriage Coincided With His Voice, Drowning It Out.
The Carriage Moved Away, And He Felt Frustrated And Disappointed.
Grief Overwhelmed Him Because He Finally Reached The End Of The Alley… But Too Late.
After About Five Or Six Meters, The Carriage Stopped.
And A Man In His Twenties, Of Medium Height, Got Out.
His Short Yellow Hair Disheveled, Wearing A Long, Coarse Dark Gray Wool Coat Reaching Roughly Mid-Thigh, Its Sleeves Worn, Hems Patched With Old Fabric Scraps.
Under The Coat, Rough Brown Trousers, Torn At The Knees And Patched With Different Dark Fabric Pieces.
His Feet In Worn Shoes Covered With Mud.
Returning To The Carriage's Stopping Point,
He Initially Noticed A Shadow Leaning Against The Wall, Thinking It Was One Of The Drunks Who Drank To Forget Their Miserable Lives.
But With Each Step, The Staggering Features Began To Appear,
Until The Face Became Almost Clear, While The Rest Of The Body Remained In Darkness.
When He Saw The Face, Astonished, He Said:
"Professor! I Thought You Didn't Drink!"
He Came Closer And Joked:
"What, Were You Deceiving Us, Drinking Without Our Knowledge?"
With Every Step Closer, The Professor's Condition Became More Apparent.
Until He Noticed The Blood On His Body.
He Screamed "Professor" Loudly And Ran Toward Him, But He Exhausted The Last Of His Energy And Fell.
But The Yellow-Haired Man Leapt To Him, Catching Him Before He Fell, Holding Him Carefully, Examining The Wound With Concern And Tension:
"Professor," He Tried Pressing The Wound To Control The Bleeding.
"What's Wrong!? Why Are You Shouting Like That!?" Said The Other Man From The Carriage, Approaching His Friend.
Wearing A Similar Coat And Tattered Trousers, His Hair Brown With A Yellowish Tint.
"What's Wrong? I Heard Your Scream! And Why Are You Sitting On The Ground!?"
When He Approached, He Saw The Man Carrying Someone Smeared In Mud Mixed With Food Scraps And Blood, His Features Unclear In The Darkness As The Yellow-Haired Man Blocked The Light.
"What Are You Carrying!?" The Blond Man Turned To His Friend, Shining The Lamp On The Professor's Face:
"Professor!!" He Jumped Toward Him, Nervous And Afraid.
"What Happened To Him!!"
"I Don't Know… But We Must Take Him To A Doctor. Go Open The Carriage Door Quickly, I'm Right Behind You."
The Brown-Haired Man Ran To The Carriage, Followed By The Blond, Carrying The Professor Between His Arms.
They Ran Toward The Black Carriage, Not Far From Them.
The Brown-Haired Man Leapt To The Black Door, Decorated With Slight Engravings, Silver-Painted Old Handle, And A Dirty Brown Mud-Stained Step Beneath.
The Blond Climbed With The Professor Into The Carriage, Placed Him On The Faded Black Seats.
While The Brown-Haired Man Took The Driver's Seat, Tugged The Reins Slightly:
"Go!" The Horses Launched At Full Speed.
He Reached Back, Holding The Rear Window Open Without Turning His Head From The Road:
"Do You Know Where The Doctor Is?" He Asked, Tightening The Reins Slightly More Than Before.
"He's On Rosewood Lane," He Said, Pressing On The Professor's Wound With A Handkerchief From His Pocket.
"Go Straight, Pass Four Streets, Then Take A Right Once, Then Two Streets, Then Left Once, And Go Straight Until You See The Clean Stone Road Ahead, And Look Left Until You See The Light Church Sign—That's Where He Is."
Brown-Haired Man Repeated The Directions Over And Over:
"Four… Right… Two… Left"
"Four… Right… Two… Left"
"Four… Right… Two… Left?"
After Roughly Ten Minutes Of Repeated Directions And Skillful Driving, The Brown-Haired Man Reached The Doctor's Clinic:
"We're Almost There, I See The Sign… Press Hard On The Wound."
"Stop!" He Said, Gently Pulling The Reins Toward His Chest, Slowing The Horses Before Missing The Clinic.
He Jumped Off The Driver's Seat To The Carriage Door, Grabbed The Handle, And Opened It:
"We're Here! Carry Him, Follow Me!"
The Blond Carried The Professor And Rushed To The Old Brown Door Of The Clinic, Which Bore The Sacred Light Church Emblem, Next To A Glass Window Divided By Wooden Frames With Curtains Hiding The Interior.
Brown-Haired Man Opened The Door, Ringing The Bell To Announce A Visitor.
The Blond Entered, Carrying The Professor, Into The Clinic, Which Was Sparsely Furnished, Nothing Elegant.
A Faded Wooden Desk Sat By The Window, With Two Old Wooden Chairs In Front, A Medicine Cabinet Nearby, And Another Door Bearing The Light Church Emblem, A Half-Circle Surrounded By Seven Arrowhead Shapes, Enclosing A Small Sphere.
Opening That Door, An Elderly Man In His Seventies Emerged, Gray-Haired, Small Gray Beard, Wearing A Yellowish-White Shirt And Faded Black Vest, Round Glasses:
"Who Comes To The Clinic At This Late Hour… My God!"
He Glanced At The Professor's Condition And Opened The Door:
"Bring Him Here And Place Him On The Bed!"
The Blond Rushed Into The Other Room With A White Wooden Bed, Covered By The Yellowed White Sheet, With A Chair And Small Table Beside It, And Another Medicine Cabinet.
He Placed The Professor On The Bed Slowly, Stepping Back To Give The Doctor Room.
The Doctor Fetched From The Cabinet A Black Bottle, Scalpel, Scissors, Spool Of White Thread, And Some Towels, Placing Them On The Table Beside The Bed.
The Doctor Sat, Took The Scissors, And Cut The Upper Part Of The Professor's Clothes To Remove It, Tossing Them Aside, Staring At The Wound In Shock:
"My God… What In The Light Could Cause Such A Wound!?"
It Turned Out To Be Four Wounds, Extending From The Right Chest To Slightly Below The Left Abdomen, Not Very Deep.
He Poured From The Black Bottle Onto The Wound, Causing The Professor To Moan In Pain:
"Hold Him Still!"
Brown-Haired And Blond Men Held Him By His Legs And Shoulders, Preventing Movement.
The Doctor Cleaned The Wounds, Examined Them Carefully For Contaminants, Threaded The Needle, And Began Stitching.
After Roughly Two Hours, The Doctor Finished Stitching And Dressing The Wounds.
He Returned To The Office Where The Brown-Haired And Blond Men Waited, The Professor Having Fainted From Pain.
"How Did The Professor Get Such A Wound… This Isn't Something A Knife Or Even A Sword Could Cause," The Doctor Asked Calmly.
The Brown-Haired Man Replied:
"I Don't Know, Mr. Lawrence… We Were Delivering Crates To The Rusted Lantern Tavern, And When We Finished And Were About To Leave, Henry Stopped And Returned To The Tavern. I Heard Him Scream, Went To Check, And Found Him Carrying The Professor."
The Doctor's Gaze Turned To Henry, Leaving His Eyes To Ask The Question Without Speaking.
"I Don't Know Either, Doctor… I Returned Because I Forgot My Father's Watch In The Tavern, So I Came Back And Found Him In The Alley By The Tavern."
Dr. Lawrence Pulled Back His Chair, About To Sit, When He Heard Moans From The Room With The Professor.
The Three Of Them Went To The Room And Found The Professor Awake:
"Where… Am I?"
"What… Happened To Me?"
He Spoke In A Trembling Voice, A Mix Of Pain And Fear.
The Doctor Sat Next To The Bed:
"You're In My Clinic, Professor… You Sustained A Severe Chest Injury… How Do You Feel Now?"
"I Feel… Intense Pain."
"Dizzy…"
"My Head… Hurts…"
He Said This, Breathing Heavily And Unevenly.
"That's Normal… You've Lost A Lot Of Blood. That's Why You Feel This Way. But Don't Worry, All You Need Is Rest And Proper Nourishment, And You Will Recover Fully."
"What Happened To You Like This, Professor?"
Upon Hearing The Word "Professor" Directed At Him, He Raised His Head In Surprise Before Asking:
The Professor Spoke In A Deep, Measured Voice, As If Every Word Was Drawn From The Depths Of His Mind:
"Meaning… Professor… And Why Do You Keep Saying It To Me?"
"Do You Know Who I Am?"
The Three Of Them Stared At Him, Astonished By What They Heard.