The air seemed to freeze the moment the figure appeared at the edge of their vision. A wave of unease swept through everyone, unspoken yet palpable.
The figure was a seemingly frail boy. His disheveled orange hair hung unevenly, as though carelessly trimmed. While his overall appearance resembled that of a typical young man, there was an unsettling discord in his presence. His skin was unnaturally pale, almost luminous against the dim ruins, and his blood-red eyes burned like embers, chilling to behold. He wore an oversized sweater, its drooping hem making his already slim frame appear even more fragile. Yet, the aura he exuded was anything but weak—sharp and threatening, like the glint of a blade.
In this forsaken city, anyone who had survived this long was anything but ordinary.
The boy stopped a mere ten meters away, raising a hand slowly to slip it into the pocket of his sweater. The subtle movement was like a spark falling into a powder keg, instantly igniting everyone's tension. Their bodies instinctively tensed, ready to draw weapons at a moment's notice. But instead of a weapon, the boy retrieved a pair of surgical gloves—thin and white—pinching the rubber delicately between his fingers. Then, from beneath his sweater, he produced a set of tools: forceps, needles, a scalpel... Each piece gleamed coldly in the faint light.
Yahageshii narrowed his eyes, his wariness coiling tightly like steel wire. His fists trembled slightly, but his face remained stoic and guarded. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The boy's voice drifted out, neutral and detached, carrying an unnerving calmness that seemed to transcend gender or age. "He's injured. Why haven't you treated him?"
Yahageshii's jaw tightened, and he instinctively took half a step back. His tone turned icy. "Of course, we'll treat him. But I don't think we should leave it to a stranger."
The boy tilted his head slightly, a faint, enigmatic smile tugging at his lips. His crimson eyes narrowed, the flicker in them both mocking and provocative. "Interesting. The doctor you're planning to find—aren't they a stranger, too?"
Yahageshii's brows furrowed deeply. His throat bobbed as he struggled to find a rebuttal. A primal instinct warned him of the danger emanating from the boy. But what chilled him more was the unsettling sense that the boy could see through every facade, piercing directly into his thoughts.
The boy glanced at Shingin, who lay unconscious on the ground, and continued in that same detached tone. "The wound isn't deep. The throwing knife pierced through soft tissue, leaving traces of toxins. There's also a minor rib fracture. While no vital organs were hit, if you leave it untreated until morning, he'll probably lose the limb. Fascinating, isn't it? With injuries this severe, you haven't even attempted first aid."
Yahageshii's breath hitched. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a cold sweat spread across his back. His fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Next to him, Ryuosho hesitated briefly before cautiously asking, "You… seem to know a lot. Are you a doctor?"
The boy didn't answer directly. Instead, he glanced at Ryuosho, his gaze as sharp as a blade, carrying an unspoken malice. He chuckled softly, the sound like a cold breeze brushing past their ears. "Fixing him would be too easy."
Ryuosho froze, unable to tell if the boy was mocking them or stating a fact.
A heavy silence settled between them. The oppressive atmosphere made it hard to breathe. The boy, unfazed, allowed his gaze to wander over each of them, as if evaluating prey lined up for slaughter.
Finally, Yahageshii gritted his teeth and spoke coldly. "If you're really a doctor, saving someone's life is understandable. But if you—"
Before he could finish, the boy suddenly raised the scalpel, pointing it at Shingin. A flash of madness lit up his crimson eyes as he interrupted, "Shut up. I hate wasting time."
Yahageshii's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively took a step back. The boy lowered his head and began pulling on the gloves, his voice unnervingly calm, as if discussing the weather. "Don't be so tense. Even if he dies, I can make him stand again. But that wouldn't be as fun."
Both Yahageshii and Ryuosho froze, a shiver running down their spines. The boy's words were like an icy whisper seeping into their bones.
Raising his head, the boy's face twisted into a sinister smile, a mix of fanaticism and cold detachment that sent chills through them. "Don't forget, you're wasting my time."
His gaze swept over them, his eyes silently declaring that his time was far more valuable than their lives.