"You are living on numbered days, Mr. Kralier. To be exact, three years is the estimate."
The ticking of the expensive clock echoed in my ears, reinforcing the weight of the doctor's words.
"Uh... numbered days?" I repeated, hoping I had misheard.
The man in front of me—thirty-three years old, a renowned researcher with several groundbreaking theses in the medical field—adjusted his glasses. He leaned slightly forward and spoke again, his voice even but firm.
"Let me be more direct. You have Rentenbar's Syndrome."
I stayed silent, my mind struggling to process the words.
"Renten-what, doctor?"
His gaze softened, tinged with a sympathy I didn't want to see.
"Rentenbar's Syndrome, Mr. Kralier. It's an extraordinarily rare disease. Even people with the worst health habits don't get this. In recorded history, only three people have ever been diagnosed."
I exhaled slowly, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The doctor, sensing my silence, continued.
"It blocks your mana circuits, making you unable to process mana. If that were its only effect, you might have a slim chance. But the three recorded cases I mentioned all suffered a steady, irreversible decline."
He folded his hands, his expression grave. "In stage two, muscle spasms will begin. You'll lose proper locomotive function, struggling with even basic movements."
"Stage three will strip you of your sense of taste and smell."
"Stage four… your immune system collapses entirely. Even if you manage to avoid infections, your eye vessels will continuously rupture."
The horrifying reality of it made my head spin. He handed me a bottle of water—his face and the words Neclave Medicals: Striving to Make You Healthier printed on the label. I opened it with trembling fingers and took several gulps, focusing on the sensation of the cool liquid to steady myself.
He waited patiently as I processed everything. When I finally found my voice, I forced the question out.
"Is there any cure?"
"No. There's no way you can survive this."
His bluntness cut deep, dashing whatever fragile hope I clung to.
"We can slow the muscle spasms temporarily, but beyond that, not even a top-class healer can help."
I clenched my fists. "What about elven elixirs?"
For the first time, hesitation flickered across his face. His voice dropped slightly.
"Mr. McLeary, the first person diagnosed with Rentenbar's Syndrome was the Elven King himself."
I froze.
The Elven King?
The man who once ruled half the planet? The one who united elves and vampires? That Elven King?
The realization shook me, but another question surfaced in my mind.
"The Elven King lived to see the end of the century, right? How did he survive so long?"
It was common folklore—he had died peacefully in his bed, surrounded by family and aides. The same king who ended the war between demons and every other species two centuries ago. The one who co-founded the Fraven Council alongside the leaders of humans and vampires.
The doctor's gaze sharpened. "Since you belong to the Kralier Dukedom, you should know that what I'm about to say is classified. Not even the King and Queen know this. I'm telling you this only out of respect for your grandfather."
I swallowed hard, anticipation creeping up my spine.
"Humans only know fragments of what truly happened. The Elven King never died surrounded by his family. He vanished near the end of the fourth century."
My breath hitched. "What?"
"It was a rumor among those near the Elven border. But I believe he died shortly after the Fraven Council's formation—due to Rentenbar's Syndrome."
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off before I could speak.
"If you're wondering how I know this, it's because of my ancestor. Xavier Neclave, the healer hero of that era, fought alongside the Elven King. He wrote about symptoms eerily similar to yours in his battle chronicles."
He pulled out an old, well-preserved book from his desk and flipped through its pages.
"He mentioned the Elven King and another warrior he couldn't heal—no matter what magic or medicine he tried. He believed it was a demon's curse and never documented it again. But he did give it a name: Rentenbar's Syndrome. And in his final notes, he wrote: 'It is incurable, even by the grace of gods.'"
The doctor's voice held a trace of pity. I hated it. But I forced myself to stay calm.
"What should I do?"
Silence filled the room.
Finally, he exhaled. "I'm sorry, Noah. No one in this world can save you. The elves or vampires might know something, but our relationship with them is strained. Too many of this century's heroes have come from humanity."
I didn't respond. I knew what he was implying. Using my family's influence could backfire horribly. The elves weren't exactly eager to share their knowledge—especially not with us.
"Knowing your grandfather, he might start a war against the South just to find answers."
I let out a dry chuckle. "Aren't you a doctor? Shouldn't you be a little more... subtle?"
He smirked slightly. "I am a doctor. Normally, I'd soften the truth with some honeyed words of hope. But you're my idol's grandson. I'd rather not let you delude yourself. Hope is cruel when it's built on lies."
His words stung, but I couldn't argue.
He leaned back. "Right now, only you and I know about your condition. I won't stop you from telling your family. In fact, that's probably your best bet. But curing this? Even my ancestor, the greatest healer of his time, failed."
I clenched my fists under the table, a storm of emotions raging inside me.
No cure.
No hope.
Just a ticking clock. A slow, inevitable end.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to think. If my days were numbered…
A snap of fingers brought me back to reality.
I looked at the man in front of me. The descendant of Xavier Neclave, the greatest healing hero of all time.
Lucas Neclave.
The fact that he was a descendant of such a great person didn't stop him from achieving groundbreaking studies related to mana cores and mana circuits.
He admires my grandfather for reasons I don't know.
"I suggest you get some rest. If you find it difficult to tell your family, I can do that."
'Isn't that your job?' I thought but dismissed it. It would be better not to tell them.
"There's a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"
He tilted his head in confusion before his eyes widened in realization.
"You don't mean—!?"
"That's exactly what I mean. No one knows about my condition. And when I say no one, I mean no one."
"Are you fucking crazy?"
"No."
He looked at me for a few seconds, his eyes trembling.
"No, it's my fault for handling such a sensitive matter with such direct words. I've never done this before—my juniors are the ones who relay the news of dread. But now I see how it affects common sense!"
Lucas started rambling about how he should tell my grandfather, mentioning complications regarding my mental health. I stopped him before he could continue.
"Mr. Enclave, I would like to relay this information to my family when they are in a better position to actually sit down and speak with me."
He stopped talking, raising his head slowly. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a deep sigh before speaking again in an exasperated voice.
"I've heard from your grandfather, but is it really that bad?"
"It's been a year since I actually sat at a dinner table with them and talked," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Never thought the Kralier family would overlook their own blood," Lucas said, surprised.
"Talking about my family isn't something I'm fond of, Mr. Enclave. Let's keep it professional."
"You've got to tell someone, Noah. Keeping it in might seem easy, but in the long run, you'll face serious emotional consequences."
"A few issues aren't going to save my life. I'm going to die in the next three years. I'd rather spend that time living the way I want."
"What am I supposed to tell your grandfather?"
"That I'm fine. Healthier than ever. You know how to lie, right, Mr. Enclave?"
"Hiding it from a man who loves you is disrespecting him," Lucas said, his voice tinged with irritation.
"That is my issue to handle. If you care at all about your profession, follow your ethics—not your emotions and blind admiration for my grandfather."
Silence settled between us. Lucas took a long sip from his water bottle before setting it back in place. He took a few short breaths, then looked at me with a calmer expression.
"You know what? You're right. It's none of my business what my patient does with his family. However, what matters is your health."
He pressed a button on his chair. The door to the room opened, and an older nurse, likely in her fifties, stepped inside and bowed.
"Did you arrange the medicines I asked for?" Lucas asked.
"Yes, Master Lucas. They're ready at the reception area. Do you need me to bring them here?"
"No need, Rose. You're free to go."
The nurse bowed again and quietly left the room.
"She'll give you a paper with a schedule for when to take the tablets. They're made specifically for you, with my grandfather's notes on how to at least ease the pain and symptoms."
"Does this—"
"Don't misunderstand. This only delays the progression to Stage Two. At most, it'll buy you an extra month or two. I suppose you can use that time however you wish."
I stared at him, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions.
I knew he was trying to help me. And yet, I wanted to scream at him—to demand that he do something. Find the healer hero. Search for a cure.
I wanted to beat the shit out of him, force him to use that 'prodigal medical brain' of his to at least try.
But I had known since childhood—noble families abide by their traditions with unwavering loyalty. If his ancestors decreed that he must not try to cure me, then even if he wanted to, even if he tried, his family would stop him.
I got up from my seat and held out my hand.
"Thanks for your time, Doctor Lucas,"
He looked at me for a while and got up and shook my hand.
"May I ask what are you gonna do now?"
"Live the life that I always wanted?"
He frowned a bit and ended the handshake.
I made my way to the door and just before I placed my hand on the door knob, he asked me a question.
"And what's that?"
I turned back and tilted my head.
"I'm sorry?"
"The life you always wanted to live?"
I smiled for a moment before responding to him in a cool voice.
"A peaceful one,"