The city outside was noisy. That afternoon, Dotta finally got up and peered out the window. The winter sun, streaming into the hospital, felt like sharp needles against his eyelids. He yawned as the fog of drowsiness began to lift.
All the sounds must be from Luffe Aros.
He’d been looking forward to attending the festival and celebrating the new year.
Eating good food, watching plays, relaxing in a hot bath…
The penal heroes were tacitly allowed to enjoy themselves during the festival. If only he hadn’t been dragged into that ridiculous tournament and broken his arm… And it was all their fault: Venetim, Xylo, Patausche, Trishil—all the people who had forced him to fight.
Now he had to spend the rest of the year just lying around. Of course, while the hospital was mind-numbingly dull, it was still better than being sent on some pointless, dangerous mission. Even the food was pretty decent. There was only one thing bothering Dotta…
“Perfect. You’re finally awake.” A woman with scarlet hair was glaring down at him. It was Trishil. “You overslept. It’s already past noon. I bet you were up late last night, right?”
“Wh-what? Y-yes, I was…”
“You can’t lie to me.” She fixed Dotta with a piercing glare.
Oh, right, he thought. With her stigma, she could supposedly see what other people were doing, no matter where they were.
“You went into town,” she said.
“Well, uh… I was bored, so I went for a little walk nearby…”
He tried to be vague, but Trishil must have seen right through him. Having nothing else to do, he’d decided to go for a “walk” around the neighborhood. Apparently, this hospital was quite famous and frequented by a bunch of wealthy clients whose mansions were not that far away.
But Trishil didn’t lecture him; she merely snorted dismissively.
“Your arm is going to take longer to heal if you don’t get enough rest. I’ll have to tie you to your bed if you keep this up.”
“Yes, ma’am…”
To Dotta’s great frustration, Trishil visited him often, always giving him little lessons and other training.
“Now, Hanged Fox, you’re going to learn about lightning staffs today.”
With a heavy thud, she tossed a thick manual at him titled Lightning Staff Maintenance and Operation Manual. Looking at it filled him with dread. Dotta had never been much of a reader to begin with, and just looking at the title exhausted him.
“That new model of lightning staff you stole is very delicate. Just one shot drains the entire magazine, so you need to learn how to quickly replace it. Make sure to familiarize yourself with its maintenance procedures as well.”
“…I’m not a good reader, though.”
“Then it’s time you improved. After that, we’re going for a run. We need to train that lower body of yours.”
“‘T-train’? I have to run? But the tournament is over. What’s the point? My broken bones haven’t even healed yet!”
“You can still walk and run with a broken arm. Right, Doctor?”
Trishil turned to find a lanky figure with bluish hair and androgynous features. In fact, Doctor Dito’s gender was a complete mystery to Dotta. As one of the hospital’s attending physicians, they’d just concluded examining the patient to Dotta’s side and now looked up at Trishil and nodded.
“Yes, running shouldn’t be a problem.”
Their voice wasn’t cold, exactly, but it lacked any warmth. The sound of it reminded Dotta of someone in particular. But who…?
“It’s better to move around a bit than to stay in bed all day. You’re free to get in some exercise.”
“See?!” exclaimed Dotta. “The doctor said ‘some exercise,’ not ‘a lot of exercise’!”
“I know. Don’t worry.” Trishil put on a ferocious smile. “This isn’t that much, so you’ll be fine.”
“Hey! Maybe it feels that way to you, but you’re gonna kill me!”
“More importantly, does he need permission to go out?” she said, turning back to the doctor.
“Ha-ha.” Doctor Dito laughed and removed their gloves, then carried a bag of vials over to Dotta. “I should probably give him a little checkup and see how his bones are healing before he goes out. He looks like he’s doing well. Maybe he can even go home a little earlier than planned.”
“Ugh.”
Medical examinations filled Dotta with dread, perhaps subconsciously reminding him of his time in the repair shop. Or maybe there was just something about this doctor that gave him the creeps. Sometimes, their hands felt so cold, it sent chills down his spine.
“Wait! I’m actually…feeling really sick today…”
“Hey! Enough whining, kid!” shouted the man in the next bed over. His condition seemed to have worsened, and he still had one leg suspended in a sling, but his vocal strength remained startlingly robust. “You got a beautiful woman coming to check up on you. What’s the problem? Just shut up and do as you’re told!”
“But…”
“Just relax for me, Dotta. I need to check your—”
Dito stopped midsentence and turned around. Their face had gone blank. Dotta followed their gaze and froze as well.
There was a hulking figure looming in the doorway.
A deep chuckle echoed through the room—not from Dito, but from the large man at the door whom Dotta happened to have the misfortune of knowing. It was Rhyno, his unit’s artilleryman, and he was carrying a basket of fruit for some reason.
“I came to check on you, Comrade Dotta. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” As he spoke, Rhyno’s gaze remained fixed on Dito. The tension in the air was palpable.
“Hmph. What are you doing here, artilleryman?” asked Trishil, clearly annoyed. “I’m in charge of training him. I thought you were busy guarding that high priest. What are you doing wandering around here?”
“Someone else took over for me, and I have something to discuss with Comrade Dotta.”
“What do you need? And what’s with all that fruit you’re carrying? There sure is a lot of it.”
“I’m sending him on a mission, so I figured he needed to replenish his nutrients.”
“That’s way too much for a single person. Don’t you have any common sense? Where did you even get all of it?”
“Captain Hord Clivios left it for us. He said it was to celebrate the end of the year.”
Rhyno plopped down the basket to one side of Dotta’s bed. But something about his discussion with Trishil just now had caught Dotta’s attention.
“Hey, Rhyno? Uh… I must be losing my mind, because I thought I just heard you say something about sending me on a mission.”
“I’ll explain everything in a moment. These are orders straight from Comrade Venetim. He’s expecting great things from you. He said you were our secret weapon, and he asked me to come deliver a message to you.”
“Hmph. Sounds like you’ve got it easy, artilleryman. Just relaying the message? Not even going to help?”
“Of course I’m going to help. For example…”
Rhyno’s eyes had been fixed on Doctor Dito the entire time. The doctor began to retreat, their face still devoid of expression, clearly trying to move away from Rhyno.
But Rhyno swiftly grabbed their shoulder, as if to block their escape.
“…I’m going to protect you from this demon lord.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
Dotta’s jaw dropped, and Trishil frowned. The other patients in the ward were watching with horrified fascination. But Dito remained calm, their gaze unwavering.
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing. Do you have proof?”
“I’ve got a sense for these things. I put in a lot of training, you see… As they say, one improves quickly at things one enjoys. So I’d like to ask your real name. Who are you?”
Dito closed their eyes, exhaled, then opened them again, revealing blood-red irises.
“…Me? Who are you? Don’t tell me you’re the—”
“Whoops.”
In the blink of an eye, the two of them came to blows. Rhyno leveraged his grip on Dito’s shoulder and attempted to knock them down with a blow to their legs. But before he could manage it, Dito’s facade shattered, and their right hand morphed into a bestial claw as they reached for Rhyno’s throat.
Rhyno sprang backward. “Impressive,” he said with a hint of admiration.