Chapter 56 Treatment
Maybe it really was nonsense. Azuka brushed the man's forehead with her fingertips; it was still ominously hot.
"Please be patient. I'll go find a therapist." He didn't care about the other party's shocking remarks just now, and whispered to the patient with half-closed eyes.
Healers are typically sorcerers skilled in healing spells, often followers of Badar, the god of life and joy. Hiring them is expensive, so commoners tend to buy cheaper potions or simply ask the Church of Radiance for some holy water—though the effectiveness remains to be determined.
"...No." The black-haired young man opened his eyes slightly and gave him a look of disdain. It was hard to believe that he spoke so haltingly and weakly from his coughing, yet he still had the energy to be picky. "Unless absolutely necessary, I won't let any inexplicable stranger cast any random spell on me."
"I'm not proficient in this area of healing." The God's Favored glared at him disapprovingly. The concept he resonated with was closer to "transformation," which was fine for repairing wounds, but "curing illnesses" was a bit of a challenge—especially since the Professor wasn't his tough, unyielding friend.
"Don't be so willful," he murmured in a low voice. "I suppose you would rather not drink holy water?"
Those favored by God felt that their combination of soft and hard tactics was no different from coaxing the children in the tribe. It was really laughable that his nemesis actually had such a... childish and difficult side.
"Don't look like that. I'm not going to die that easily." The difficult guy raised his eyelids and glanced at him, humming reluctantly, "Based on the clinical trials I was forced to undergo several times before, the Natalin people's medicine is still effective."
Medicine on the continent of Ambrose focuses more on the effects of magic itself. Potions available on the market are more like concentrated magical solutions using various medicinal herbs as carriers, creating a completely different system from Earth. The treatment methods similar to Traditional Chinese Medicine, which the Natalin people were forced to evolve under extreme circumstances, are truly remarkable, and they evoke a complex and strange familiarity in Nova.
During the time when he was first diagnosed, he drank a lot of disgusting bitter medicine until everything he ate tasted the same. Unfortunately, the effect was minimal. The side effect was that he had an almost instinctive aversion and resistance to those things - but this is getting off topic. Seeing people raising their eyebrows at him suspiciously, the professor was silent for a while, and suddenly sighed softly.
"...an hour." He said, almost weakly, "If the fever doesn't subside after an hour, I'll contact a therapist."
Perhaps because illness makes people fragile, he looked much more harmless, curled up in the quilt, looking wilted, giving the illusion that one could carefully approach and touch him.
Azuka decided to go along with this illusion. The man quietly let him pull the messy hair from his forehead, revealing the sharp arch of his brow. Just as he was about to withdraw his fingers, he suddenly muttered something under his breath.
"……Headache."
The God-Favored One was silent for a moment, then asked tentatively, "Shall I massage it for you?"
The other person snorted noncommittally. But this was the first time his nemesis had shown him any affection while conscious. He had once held that head and gazed into its dead eyes. Now, the man's eyelashes drooped, yet he unconsciously leaned slightly closer to his palm. He could even clearly feel the rapid pulsation of his blood vessels.
For a moment, someone was completely frozen - but he quickly regained his composure.
...It's a bit strange.
It was like a ball of warm, tired, burning stars, beating like a heart in the palm of his hand.
Xingxing half-closed her eyes and suddenly said, "I won't reveal Ole Asaqi's whereabouts just to scare people."
His voice grew softer, almost like the mumbling of a delirious sleeper: "Any spontaneous, crude, muddled, and almost instinctive struggle is still a struggle... Even if it fails, it still has its meaning. Everything the Shadow Chaser does is meaningful."
——Any insignificant sacrifice is equally meaningful.
After a long moment of no response, the fingers slowly massaging the back of his head stopped moving. The black-haired young man struggled to open his eyes. The man was still sitting beside him. He couldn't see his face, shrouded in shadow. Only his slightly tense jaw could be seen.
What was he thinking? Was he influencing some subtle trend? The professor wondered curiously, almost instinctively mobilizing his tired brain to analyze that person, like a child trying to plunge his head into unfamiliar waters.
He was facing a young rebel who dared to question, was good at thinking, had a strong desire for control but also maintained a habit of learning. He knew clearly what he wanted and what he lacked, and was rational and ruthless enough to kill decisively. Even in the eyes of strangers from more mature civilizations, the other party was still in a confused stage, but he was already a qualified leader.
This was unprecedented. Nova Brody had always been filled with curiosity and enthusiasm for everything except humans—but the next second, his eyes were covered. A slightly cool temperature comfortably enveloped him, like a gentle, deep seawater welling up.
"I'll reconsider your proposal." In the darkness, the man sighed and said, "Please give me some time."
"Very good." The professor closed his eyes in satisfaction, tilted his head, and tried to shake off the hand covering his eyes. "Now please leave me alone and do what you should do."
- whether that's restoring his unfortunate study to its original state, catching up with his friends, or simply getting a good night's sleep.
The other man readily let go and touched his enemy's forehead very naturally - the fever began to subside, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, and he was in the mood to tease people.
"I thought you would be more than happy for me to keep you company?"
That's why he acts so... clingy.
"Don't be silly," the man said expressionlessly, his eyes half-closed. "We've both achieved our goals. I won't bother with your people. You've also told me the truth. What are you still doing here?"
“…”
The God's Favored One fell silent, his beautiful face darkening, the emotion in his eyes incomprehensible. After a long moment, he suddenly leaned forward, displaying a rare display of toughness. He placed his hands on the other's sides, a restraining gesture.
"I'm not trying to curry favor with you because of what happened to Ole, Professor." His voice was soft and gentle, yet it held something eerie in it. "Although saying this makes me a little angry... you can also consider it a bargain. I've given you care and concern, hoping you'll get better soon, free from the torment of your illness, and receive the reward of your trust."
"I have repeatedly emphasized that your existence is important to me, very important... but you don't seem to care." His voice became lower and lower, and the distance between them became closer and closer, until his almost inaudible breathing and soft golden hair were scattered on the other person's ear, causing a slightly uneasy instinct to hide.
The God's Favored One knew that the softness and weakness shown in front of him was already very rare and difficult for his nemesis. But it was not enough, still not enough. He demanded and greedily wanted more... more of what?
Was it the man's enthusiasm and obsession as he stood on the beach, holding up a dead prawn? Or was it the genuine care and concern he naturally showed towards his teacher?
It seemed neither. Those things that were overly gentle and beautiful were also incredibly fragile. As if sensing some sign of danger, the other party opened his eyes and glared coldly at him. Those smoky gray eyes were the mist rising from unfamiliar seas, the moonlight veiled in secret forests, and the trembling globules of mithril melted in a high-heat container. Azuka stared at his weakened nemesis with almost fascination. A strange and terrifying force pulled at him, tempted him, and made him want to extract from that person's body something he could not, and should not, touch.
"...So why do you think I told you this nonsense that would get you hanged if it got out?" Nova said gloomily. The other party seemed to want something more than he had imagined, and this subtle sense of loss of control made him irritated.
They should have been extremely similar species, cold and rational accomplices. When one monster expressed trust in another, it was more like exposing its vital points, tightly pressing the open wounds together until the flesh and blood completely grew together - this was a painful and dangerous process.
"I know I'm useful, you don't have to emphasize it again." He tried to push the man away with a dark face - damn, this guy didn't look strong, and even had a bit of thinness between a teenager and a young man. Why was the oppressive feeling so terribly strong at this time?
"It's not just a question of whether it's useful or not...but you're hiding a lot of things from me." The other party said quietly.
"You too, don't be unreasonable." Perhaps because his resistance was too strong, he coughed rapidly again. The other party looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then suddenly sighed in compromise, leaned down completely, and rubbed his neck very intimately, ruffling his pajamas collar and making a mess, which made the professor shudder.
"Are you sick again?" He asked the question seriously, as if it were a curse.
"I'm angry," the man said gently, without any trace of anger. "But I don't want to lose my temper with you, so I have to take revenge on you in this small way."
Nova was silent for a moment: "...It's barely a sufficient reason."
He endured for a moment, and finally reached out to push the other person's head, and emphasized in a cold voice: "My head hurts now, I'm very tired, and I'm terribly sleepy."
"You're really good at acting like a spoiled child." The other person didn't comment, but still let go of him, stood up, sat beside him, and carefully tucked the quilt under him. There was a bewitching tenderness between her brows: "Go to sleep, I'll stay with you. I won't leave until you fall asleep."
The tone was just like coaxing a child who was afraid of the dark and refused to sleep alone.
Nova: “…”
The professor said expressionlessly: "Speak nicely and don't force me to beat you up."
A certain creepy feeling that he couldn't understand made his hair stand on end and his whole body uncomfortable - it was not an illusion, this bastard was really getting more and more presumptuous in front of him, and those weird and evil tastes had reached the point where they were no longer concealed.
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