The warm, bustling atmosphere of the liquor store shifted in an instant. Crimson's deep, rattling cough pierced the air, drawing the attention of Medas and Morvane. When Crimson lowered his hand from his mouth, the sight of crimson blood streaked across his palm made their hearts stop.
"Crimson!" Medas exclaimed, his calm demeanor cracking for the first time.
"What happened?" Morvane asked, his voice sharp with panic as he leaned closer.
Crimson's breathing was labored, his face pale. "I… I don't know," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the blood in his hand.
Medas immediately turned his attention to the bartender, his tone demanding. "What did you put in his drink?"
The bartender, startled and confused, raised his hands in defense. "Nothing but the finest whiskey, I swear! I'd never tamper with a ruler's drink!"
