Chapter 27 The Handsome Grim Reaper and the Fake Thief.
Lucas felt like he was the biggest burden in the world.
He was supposed to stay by Ashlyn's side to ensure the performance was flawless. But when she suddenly lost control, he was helpless and could only witness the disaster. Why did she lose control? He thought they had practiced enough.
That was bad enough, but he also got injured because he misjudged the position and timing, and had to go to the hospital. It was impulsive of him, but he couldn't let Ashlin get hurt.
At first, he thought Ashlyn's magic could heal wounds; although it had failed on him (in a way, it had also succeeded), it was extremely effective on Sanova. After witnessing her progress firsthand, he no longer doubted her abilities as much as before.
This girl can definitely do well if she concentrates.
Of course, this requires "concentration." Lucas often suspected that Ashlin actually had a bunch of chattering brains, thinking completely different and chaotic things at the same time, which made the scene as chaotic as her own mind. For example, something must have distracted her just now, but he didn't have time to ask.
However, it was far more important to win over Melia with magic than to heal him, and he couldn't risk Ashlin's magic being depleted by himself.
However, there's a good side to everything.
If the physician who is to treat him is the legendary new apprentice Setiel, then this disaster is a godsend.
He remembered Tara's conversation with the doorman that night.
What did the security guard say again?
Tara's mother recovered very quickly, much to the doctors' surprise...
Setiel is a new healer, or even just an apprentice. The Magic Flute, which possesses healing abilities, has also recently gone missing.
Lucas had never believed in coincidences. The connection between the clues excited him so much that he almost ignored the pain in his shoulder.
almost.
He couldn't help but worry that the injury to his shoulder would affect his brain function. If he finally managed to grasp a clue but missed the opportunity because of the injury, that would be truly irreparable.
The pain felt like sharp steel needles piercing his skin. He realized that he might be injured not only in his shoulder, but also somewhere in his neck and chest, but it shouldn't be too serious.
He forced himself to ignore it.
Think of something else, he told himself. The Magic Flute is the only thing that matters. Do you want to be a cat forever and let the Dark Witch rule the world?
"Are you alright?" Tara glanced at him. "Hang in there, human. Setir should be monitoring my mother Elena's condition at my house, not far from here."
"I thought your mother had recovered, madam?"
"Yes. But that doesn't mean we don't need to observe further."
He wanted to ask more questions, but Tara kept her eyes fixed ahead, as if he didn't exist. They were ultimately not familiar with each other, and she clearly had no liking for him; perhaps taking him to the doctor was merely a matter of some code of conduct befitting a knight.
Out of courtesy, he kept his question to himself.
The evening breeze was cool, and there were few elves on the road. They crossed the stream and came to a white cottage.
The room was excessively clean and simple, with neat and orderly furniture and no superfluous decorations or works of art. It was even more monotonous than a guesthouse room, and it didn't seem like anyone had ever lived there.
An elf woman who appeared older than Tara, yet showed no signs of aging, leaned back in her chair, chatting and laughing with a thin elf boy. They must be Elena and Setir.
Upon seeing the latter, Lucas couldn't help but doubt his earlier assumptions. The main reason was that this elf looked incredibly frail, with a body thinner than a sheet of paper, and dark circles under his eyes; judging by appearance, he was definitely no more than fourteen years old in human years.
If you stole the Magic Flute of Nokari, why didn't you play it for yourself first to enhance your spiritual power?
Perhaps the magic mechanism of The Magic Flute is not like this.
Lucas truly hated his own shallow knowledge. Why had he never read any books about the Magic Flute of Nocali? What use were all those old things he had learned in the palace?
For the prince, what he knew was still far from enough. If Elaine were here, would she immediately answer all his questions?
She looked at it carefully.
"Great forest god! What is this human boy doing here?!"
Lucas intended to offer some useless pleasantries, such as complimenting the house or congratulating Elena on her recovery, to improve the elven people's goodwill towards the human nobles, since humans seemed to be unwelcome here at the moment. For the sake of inter-tribal diplomacy, he should have fulfilled his duties as a prince.
But before he could speak, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, as if it had been fiercely licked by wildfire.
He had to bend down, and the thin elf helped him up.
“It’s a long story. This is Prince Lucas of Dias,” Tara said. “There was an accident at the party, and he was injured. I brought him to Setil for treatment.”
Setil nodded: "Leave it to me."
He observed Lucas's injuries, while Lucas observed Setiel.
Lucas was sickly from a young age and was very familiar with doctors, but it was strange that he was being treated by a child who looked three or four years younger than him.
Of course, Setiel might actually be over a hundred years old, Lucas couldn't be sure. Aside from being young, thin, and exhausted, he couldn't see anything else. From any angle, Setiel looked like a medical apprentice on the verge of collapse.
“Hmm, sawdust, scratches, and bruises.” Setil squinted. “Not too serious, but not exactly minor either. Fortunately, it’s easy to treat. Just drain the blood and bandage it with herbs. With my magic, you’ll recover quickly.”
He turned to Tara: “Please get me some rue, citronella, wine, a lancet, and linen.”
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Elena asked with concern.
“Distract the patient while bleeding,” Setiel suggested.
“I heard you’ve just recovered from your illness, Ms. Elena,” Lucas said. “Congratulations. However, it’s a pity you still missed the Star and Moon Gala.”
Elena waved her hand. "Oh, it's nothing. The Star and Moon Party happens every year, but life only happens once, doesn't it?"
"What...what did that feel like?" Lucas asked with great interest. "I heard you were very ill, but recovered overnight, it was practically a miracle. If you don't mind telling me about it..."
Tara turned around and roughly handed over the medical supplies that Setiel had requested.
Elena smiled brightly.
"Of course I don't mind! How many elves can have such a dreamlike experience? I was really on the verge of death, I couldn't even breathe, and I didn't have the energy to write my last words... To tell you the truth, human kid, for a moment, I really thought I was dead."
“Extend your right arm,” Setiel said, raising his scalpel, and Lucas obediently complied.
A sharp pain shot through him as the elven healer precisely severed his vein, blood dripping into the bowl. Lucas felt his life slipping away, his mind reeling.
No, he must stay awake.
"You thought you were dead?" he asked.
“That’s right.” Elena seemed quite proud of it. “I saw Death himself.”
“Mother, you’re joking again,” Tara said. “No one will see Death.”
Elena rolled her eyes. "You still don't believe me? Humph, believe the elves older than you, Tara. Let me tell you, the Grim Reaper Santoris looks completely different from those paintings and statues. In the paintings, Santoris is either as thin as a dried flower or has a skull face. Ha, if you ask me, he's quite a handsome guy."
"Mother!"
"Wow, what does he look like? How handsome is he?" Lucas asked, completely forgetting that he was bleeding, as if he was genuinely interested in Santoris's appearance.
Lucas's lips curled up slightly more. Neither fiction nor dreams would contain such detailed descriptions, unless Elena was a writer.
But there were few books in the room; the few that were available were books like "An Outline of Elven History" or "A Modern Elven Dictionary," which even Lucas, a human, had read hundreds of times; there was also no paper or pen on the table.
"At first, I thought I had met the moon goddess. Then he said, 'Congratulations, Elena, you are dead.' I thought, wow, so fast? I told him that I hadn't had time to write my will yet, and asked if I could go back for a while. He shook his head. I figured there was nothing I could do, so I followed him."
"Unexpectedly, halfway there, I suddenly heard a sound! It sounded a bit like music, but my ears and brain weren't working properly at the time, so I couldn't figure it out."
"It was obvious that the handsome god heard it too, and his expression changed immediately. I thought I had done something wrong, so I quickly asked him if I could still enter the spirit world."
"And guess what? He said, 'Elena of Ilovia, your time was ripe, today was the day your soul would be harvested, but now there is a force I cannot stop interfering. Unfortunately, you will have to go back.' Then I woke up and saw Setil's surprised face. He had actually healed me and pulled me back from the brink of death!"
Tara sighed.
“That was just a dream, Mother. If you really saw Death, even Setiel wouldn’t be able to bring you back.”
“I never remember anything from my dreams,” Elena insisted. “Anyway, Death is there, believe it or not.”
“Well then, Setiel is truly a skilled physician.” Lucas turned to look at the young doctor who had stopped his bleeding, and the latter blushed.
"No. I also think there was an element of luck involved. You're right, it really does seem like a miracle."
After stopping the bleeding, he applied herbs to Lucas, carefully bandaged the wound, and chanted a few words in Elvish, roughly meaning to ask him to recover.
Although Lucas was still dizzy, he did not stop thinking.
Santoris, the god of death, is the least frequently mentioned of the four gods. The people of Dias fear that uttering his name will bring death; they would rather discuss the mysterious and eerie moon than tell even a single story about Santoris.
Elena spoke with absolute certainty, clearly recounting a true experience. To see Death, one must already be dead; even in the dying moments, one cannot truly see His true form. Otherwise, why wouldn't those on the verge of death describe Death's true appearance to the world?
The answer is clear: Elena was dead, Setil's medical skills could not save her, and it was the Nocari Flute that brought her back to life.
There's no need to go around in circles anymore.
“So, Setiel, why are you still using traditional medicine?” Lucas asked.
Setir stopped bandaging, looking quite puzzled: "Traditional medicine... I suppose that's how elven healers are. Do humans have a better method?"
"Elena is already dead. Surely there's no elven medicine or magic that can bring an elf back to life?"
A terrible silence fell over the room. Elena opened her mouth in surprise, while Tara pursed her lips and looked away.
“No,” Setir said slowly. “I don’t know what happened either…”
“There’s no need to hide it,” Lucas said. “I know it was the Nocari Flute that gave Elena a new life, and I’m very happy about that. But the flute cannot be stolen, much less misused; that would go against the balance of the universe. When the balance between the human and the spirit world is disrupted, it can bring… terrible things. The survival of a life destined to end will also bring about the death of another life that should be alive.”
"The Magic Flute?" It took Setiel a while to react. "What are you talking about? I've never touched the Magic Flute!"
Lucas sneered.
"I've already said it all, and you still won't admit it?"
"Admit what?" Setil's confusion seemed quite genuine.
Yu Guangzhong, Tara lowered her head, suddenly becoming very interested in the floor.
Lucas suddenly stopped.
He missed something.
He no longer looked at Setir, but at another elf, the one who dared not meet his gaze.
The elf whose handing over the item suddenly became rough when he said the word "miracle".
The story that kept trying to persuade Elena was a joke, a dream sprite.
The elf who, as he was being escorted to the palace, deliberately emphasized Setiel's "superior healing skills" when faced with the guards' congratulations.
Setiel was never the one who used the Magic Flute.
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