17 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)
Chapter 17
I've wondered before.
What does this man think when he meets a doctor? Is he even waiting for the doctor's examination? Doesn't he get tired?
Rose had already seen more doctors than she could count on one hand. Ezekiel, in particular, had been seeing doctors consistently since winter. He had experienced countless days like this.
He would hope for the best, only to be disappointed, and yet, each time he met a new doctor, he must have repeated the cycle of wondering how this one would be. And now, he hardly held any hope at all.
"Actually, you know, I know my future."
The man's expression instantly sank, a stark drop.
"In this mansion where doctors flee and maids and servants disappear within weeks or months, Serva is the only one who will remain by my side until the end. But she thinks her time is running out. You can tell just by how she keeps calling for doctors. I bet I'm not the one who can't give up these eyes the most. It's Serva. But tell me, how long can she postpone the inevitable end?"
He must have imagined it countless times. Himself, left alone after Madam Serva grew old and passed away. A future where he was blind, estranged from people, and distant from the world.
When that day came, he would unhesitatingly ruin his eyes completely.
Didn't he already have a history of it?
"My subordinates had to rush in and desperately stop him from gouging his eyes out..."
Moments ago were no different.
As Madam Serva's testimony overlaid the man's action of reaching for his own eyes, Rose instinctively threw herself forward.
The back of the man's hand, hardened by long hours of physical training, would show prominent veins with even a slight exertion of force. It was a hand capable of inflicting significant harm upon himself.
It was truly terrifying. Terrifying that the man, unable to overcome his rage and disappointment, might gouge out his own eyes. Terrifying that a black, empty void might be added to his body, already etched with dozens of scars from war.
Her trembling wouldn't cease.
"If only she had ended my life in one swift blow, I wouldn't hate her this much."
"Thanks to that woman turning me into a cripple, a living corpse, I am neither alive nor dead."
His resentment echoed with searing intensity.
She had no words to offer in defense, nor any way to do so.
She had no idea how to soothe such devastating despair.
"...Major, who do you think would be the happiest to hear that you've completely lost your sight?"
It took immense courage to even utter Achenaus's name. The mere thought made her stomach churn, so she couldn't bring herself to say the name.
A hint of color began to seep into the man's expressionless face.
"Achenaus."
As expected, Achenaus was the first name that came to mind.
"Achenaus Valdemara. And that woman, too."
That woman.
Though a pang of resentment, which Ezekiel never forgot, pierced a corner of her heart, Rose pretended to feel nothing and looked away. For now, she had to hope that his strongest lingering animosity would serve as a motive to protect him. Her own grievances were insignificant in comparison. After all, her parents had committed wrongdoings without paying any price, and Achenaus had even received a considerable fortune as compensation.
"That's right."
Afraid her voice might tremble, Rose answered slowly.
"You're being wronged. Those people are likely living well, without a second thought for your situation, while you alone are self-harming and self-destructing in a place no one acknowledges."
Rose's tone was a calm, low alto. Her speaking pace was gentle and slow, always exuding a serene atmosphere.
That was why Ezekiel had always thought her voice held a peculiar power. Looking back, he felt similarly from their first meeting. If Rose had shrieked in a high-pitched voice or begged while sobbing, he would have been even harsher towards her, let alone dismissed his suspicions.
But that day, the woman had persuaded him in a low, measured tone. Today was no different.
"...Yes, self-destruction is unacceptable. At least, mutual destruction would be more fitting."
Ezekiel gazed at the mass of night filling his vision. The vast night held no faint smudges. It was pure, perfect blackness, nothingness. It was an unreal sight, no matter how many times he looked.
"Dr. Briman."
Despite this, he discerned a presence hidden in the darkness.
"When you said you'd dabble in it, you meant you'd considered methods. What is this?"
A flicker of unease crossed Dr. Briman's face. However, Ezekiel, oblivious to this, waited for an answer as if urging him on, unable to read others' signals.
"This can hardly be called a method. It's merely an attempt."
"You're being long-winded."
"...Literally, all sorts of attempts. Administering every kind of antidote while observing the progress, and stimulating the senses with various stimuli to revive them."
An attempt, not a method. Rose, pondering the word Dr. Briman had deliberately chosen, asked,
"...Is it effective?"
"It's impossible to know. I have no predictions or confidence regarding the effectiveness or outcome of this attempt. Furthermore, there's a possibility that even the remaining pain sensation might disappear. In that case, you would completely lose your sight. In fact, I believe this is the more likely outcome. Even if, by some chance, it proves effective, I won't know which part of my attempt was valid."
It sounded like he was relying on sheer luck. The diagnosis was vague, the prescription uncertain. Even the doctor was pessimistic.
She countered,
"Then isn't that just human experimentation?"
"It would seem so."
"Then it's too dangerous..."
"It sounds plausible."
The voice was abruptly swallowed. Rose fell silent for a moment.
They drew different conclusions from the same words. Even Dr. Briman couldn't hide his bewilderment at Ezekiel, who nodded his head nonchalantly.
"It's not that other doctors didn't think of this and therefore didn't mention it. They likely never voiced it because there was no possibility of it being realized."
"Even so, you're telling me about it now, aren't you, Doctor?"
Rose looked at Ezekiel, astonished.
"Are you perhaps saying you intend to try it?"
"There's no reason why not."
Dr. Briman reiterated,
"It will be painful. We don't know how long it will take. What's certain is that it won't be a short process. I cannot take any responsibility, regardless of how this experiment ends. Of course, you must also provide a guarantee that you will not hold me accountable for anything."
To offer treatment that would be long and painful with no guaranteed outcome, and under the condition that the patient bears all risks, was tantamount to saying 'don't do it.'
No patient would want to hear such an irresponsible diagnosis from a doctor.
"You know how to provoke a competitive spirit, Doctor."
But Ezekiel's answer was without hesitation.
"Dangerous battles are my specialty. It is the commander's duty to devise strategies and fight battles that maximize the chances of victory in unfavorable conditions. I have always taken responsibility for my battles myself."
He added,
"And I have never lost a fight."
"Major."
Rose quickly intervened, trying to dissuade him.
"Please consult Madam Serva first."
The doctor had assessed the probability of failure as higher than success. Such an attempt was not right. It should not be done. In all likelihood, Madam Serva would never agree to Ezekiel's perilous gamble.
"Why? Do you think I'm going to lose?"
Her words were choked off.
She felt anxious and bewildered. Her pulse pounded through her veins like a warning siren.
She couldn't grasp this feeling. Just as the doctor said, if he failed, how would she bear the aftermath? Fear was one thing, but what if, against all odds, Ezekiel's sight was restored...?
And then, when they faced each other.
When he realized that the woman who had searched for him with her subordinates was right here.
What would happen?
A chill ran down her spine.
If a person's life were a book, Ezekiel's current pages were filled entirely with blanks. Days spent enduring pain, relying on medicine and alcohol, letting each day pass meaninglessly without reaching the climax of his life.
Rose bitterly agreed.
He wouldn't forgive.
He would seek revenge.
I would too.
"From what I hear, this young lady's suggestion is not incorrect. Wouldn't it be better to deliberate further?"
Surprisingly, it was Dr. Briman who heeded Rose's plea.
"Will your treatment method change if I deliberate?"
"It wouldn't, but..."
"Then there's no reason for me to deliberate. Let's both leave it to our respective fates. I'll leave it to mine, and you to yours."
Even as he made a decision that was akin to gambling, he somehow seemed relieved.
"It's time to settle this, whether I get better or completely ruined. Don't you think?"
