As we were deep in our conversation, the door to the room creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was Professor Ivan, his usual calm demeanor evident in the slight upward curve of his lips and the measured pace of his steps.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
Behind him entered another man, middle-aged, judging by the faint wrinkles lining his forehead and around his eyes.
His hair was still predominantly black, with only a few strands of silver betraying his age. Dressed in a pristine white lab coat, he carried himself with the unmistakable air of a doctor.
On one hand, he held a clipboard with papers attached—likely patient reports, judging by the careful way he kept glancing at it.
Both men stepped fully into the room, and their presence immediately commanded attention.
Professor Ivan's gaze first landed on Emily, who was seated nearby. A small, appreciative smile formed on his lips as he addressed her.
"Thanks, girl, for keeping him company," he said warmly.
Emily, however, raised her hand in a polite yet firm denial. "No, Professor, it's okay. It was partly my fault, so there's no need for thanks," she replied, her tone laced with sincerity.
Acknowledging her response with a nod, Professor Ivan turned his attention toward me, his expression shifting slightly to one of concern.
"Anyway, boy, how are you feeling?" he asked as he moved closer to my bedside.
I decided to answer nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely toward my body.
"Besides the pain in my head and all over my body, I'm okay," I said with a tone that suggested it wasn't a big deal.
But then, to lighten the mood—and because I couldn't resist messing with him—I changed my tone, adopting a mock-serious expression. "Still feels like a kidnapping, though. Pretty sure you're threatening Emily to keep quiet about it."
Professor Ivan's lips twitched, betraying his internal reaction. 'This brat is still on about that?' he must have thought.
Fake it till you make it, I reminded myself. That's what my whole act was about. I couldn't let them figure out the truth—that my amnesia, though genuine, wasn't from the incident as I claimed.
To change the subject and avoid giving them too much time to dwell on my words, I pointed toward the man in the white coat—the doctor—and asked, "So, who's he?"
Despite my supposed memory loss, certain things were crystal clear to me. I knew he was a doctor from the way he dressed and carried himself. And though I couldn't explain why, I retained knowledge of general concepts—teachers, students, doctors. It was frustratingly selective, this amnesia of mine.
Professor Ivan took a moment to compose himself before answering. Gesturing toward the man, he said, "This is Professor Daniel Bryan Firgit."
He paused, as if to emphasize the name, then continued, "He's the professor of Holy—or Healing—Magic and also the Assistant Professor for Scientific Medicine."
Professor Ivan's explanation was thorough, his voice steady and authoritative. "He'll be looking into your case, boy," he concluded.
All this while, the professor of Holy Magic stood quietly to the side, maintaining a serene smile. His eyes, however, remained focused on the clipboard in his hand, scanning its contents with calm precision.
When Professor Ivan finished the introduction, Professor Daniel finally looked up from the clipboard.
His calm demeanor shifted in an instant as he strode over to me with an almost childlike enthusiasm.
"So, student, how are you feeling? I heard you did something heroic!" he said cheerfully, his tone bursting with energy.
It was such a sudden and dramatic shift from his previous calmness that I couldn't help but be taken aback. His excitement was infectious, almost overwhelming, and before I could respond, he continued, his words tumbling out rapidly.
"I really admire people like you—so heroic and willing to save others from harm!"
As he spoke, he reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders. Before I could protest, he started shaking me lightly in his excitement.
'Too close! And it hurts!' I thought, grimacing as the pressure on my still-aching body intensified. Just as I opened my mouth to ask him to stop, Professor Ivan stepped in.
"Professor Daniel, please release him. He's still recovering from the incident," Professor Ivan said firmly, moving closer to separate us.
Professor Daniel let go immediately, stepping back with a sheepish smile. Meanwhile, Professor Ivan turned to me, his expression apologetic. "Sorry, boy. Professor Daniel here has...a very unique perspective on heroic types," he said, choosing his words carefully.
He then turned to Professor Daniel. "Please examine him properly. He says he's experiencing memory loss."
I quickly interjected, crossing my arms and pouting. "Hey! I didn't say that. I just questioned who the heck you people are. I can remember other things just fine!"
Emily, who had been silent up until now, suddenly spoke up, her tone both curious and teasing. "Oh, really? Then tell me your name."
Her question caught me off guard. Turning to her, I gave her a betrayed look. 'Emily, you BETRAYER!' I thought, but she merely sat there, looking amused.
Before the conversation could spiral further, Professor Ivan took control again. "Anyway, Professor Daniel, please examine him for any other symptoms and see if you can help with his memory."
Thank you, Professor Ivan, I thought, sending him a grateful look. He seemed to sense my silent appreciation, but his weary expression suggested he just wanted to get this over with.
Professor Daniel, now fully serious, nodded. "Young hero, don't worry. I'll do my best to get you back to full health so you can continue your heroic journey," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.
With that, he glanced at the clipboard again before folding up the sleeves of his lab coat. He positioned himself a few steps away, lifting both hands in my direction.
"You who is the Lord that governs all, please grant this servant your grace. Heal!"
The moment he uttered the final word of his chant, the room was bathed in a brilliant, blinding white light.
The glow began at his hands, quickly spreading outward to fill the entire space. It was so intense that all of us had to shield our eyes.
After two or three seconds, the light began to fade. Blinking rapidly, I lowered my hands and took a moment to assess myself.
To my astonishment, the pain that had plagued me since the incident was completely gone. My body felt light, comfortable—almost as if I had never been injured in the first place.
Curious, I sat up in bed, stretching experimentally. Every movement felt smooth, free of the stiffness and discomfort I'd grown accustomed to.
'Wow...so comfortable,' I thought, marveling at the sensation.
Unable to resist, I stretched again before sinking back into the bed, melting into the soft cushions. 'Ahhh...heaven.'
Glancing around, I noticed that Professor Ivan and Emily seemed equally amazed, both of them checking themselves and exchanging relieved glances.
In the midst of this shared moment of awe, Professor Daniel's voice broke through. "Young hero, how are you feeling now?" he asked, his tone bright and hopeful.
Snapped out of my blissful haze, I sat up straight and looked him in the eye. Keeping my expression as serious as possible, I asked, "Who are you?"
The question caught everyone in the room off guard. All eyes turned toward me, their expressions ranging from confusion to concern.
Remember, the great act must go on.