The room Glenn was given to was luxurious, decorated with expensive furniture that reminded him of Tisalia’s room. The bed was soft, but the room was too large for just one person. It would have been a great room if he were sharing it with Sapphee—and if it were not in the Underworld.
“What’s this about a rotten smell, Dr. Glenn?” Cottingley asked as he prepared hot tea.
How typical of a helper fairy to serve him tea despite his arrogant attitude, Glenn thought.
“Yes, well, I noticed the smell of necrotic tissue… Molly, it’s possible the Queen has a large wound that is infected. It also seems that it’s been left untreated for a long time…is that correct?”
“And you figured it all out just from the smell?” Molly responded, placing her head on her knees and looking around the room. “I underestimated you. You really are a great doctor, after all.”
“Please answer the question,” Glenn prompted.
“Your observations are both correct and incorrect. One thing I can say for sure is that the Queen is suffering from a major ailment. I don’t know if you’d call it an injury or a sickness, though,” Molly explained.
Glenn was confused. First-generation Molly was being vague, but it didn’t seem like she was evading the question. She probably didn’t know how to describe Elle’s issue.
Molly tipped her cup, pouring the tea directly into her torso through her neck. Glenn was startled both by the fact that she could eat and drink, and that that was the way she did it.
Molly ignored Glenn’s surprise and moved on. “Well to be honest, I was planning to tell you sooner or later. I didn’t think you would notice so quickly.”
“Sorry…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s true Elle was annoyed, but that was mostly just an act. In reality, she really wants you to help her.”
It was hard to look her in the eye with her head on her lap. Glenn tried to think about what to do as he sipped his tea.
“For now, I’ll try to get her in a better mood. She looks scary, but she’s really just a spoiled child, so I need to butter her up,” Molly said.
“Hey, Molly, you’re Queen Elle’s attendant, right?” Glenn asked.
“Yep, that’s right!” Molly giggled. She sure wasn’t very respectful, for an attendant. “I’m used to handling self-important little girls, thanks to Skadi.”
“I see,” Glenn answered.
Apparently, Molly considered dragons and gods to be the same. From what he knew of her history, she would have been human once. And yet she was fearless, never shying away from things. He wondered if such fears disappeared once you died.
“But what were you thinking, angering her like that? Didn’t you come here to convince Queen Elle?” Molly pointed out.
“I’m sorry. When I sense someone’s is in bad condition, I can’t help but say something… If the tissue is necrotizing, that’s severe and must be treated immediately,” he explained.
“Uggh, you really are hopeless.” Molly smiled.
Glenn thought for a moment. Would he even be able to treat an injured god? After all, this was the Underworld, where only souls existed. You would think the physiology of the flesh would be irrelevant.
And yet, he’d been able to treat the Dullahan. He resolved that if he could see the ailment, there might be something he could do.
“Molly, you want to cure the Queen’s illness, correct?”
“Yeah…”
“I want you to share with me all the information that you have about the patient without any exaggeration,” Glenn said. This was out of character for him. He trusted first-generation Molly, but she wouldn’t let up on her elusive behavior. Glenn couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still hiding something inside.
“What, everything? C’mon, killing you was the Queen’s orders and I’m in no position to protest,” Molly said quickly.
“Is that really all?” Glenn asked.
“Yes, yes that’s all. You know, if you were to cure the Queen’s illness, maybe she will be so grateful she’ll send you back to the living realm. I’ll make sure to mediate with her for you, then,” she schemed.
Cottingley reluctantly agreed with what Molly was saying. “It is true…that the only one who can send you back to the realm of the living is the Queen. But judging from what we just witnessed…the only chance you have is to make her owe you a debt of gratitude, Dr. Glenn.”
“Right.” As a doctor, he didn’t like the idea of creating “a debt of gratitude” through treatment. However, they were talking about Queen Elle, who’d forced Glenn into the Underworld for revenge. Something like that might be the only way to change her mind.
“Now then,” Molly put down her teacup and smiled. “I will try to talk to Queen Elle. She really is suffering, you know. Until then…wait here like a good little boy, ’kay?”
“But I don’t want to take too long…” Glenn called after her. All he could think of was Lindworm, and his fiancées waiting there for him.
“Mmm…I know you’re worried, but time works differently in the Underworld. You feel like you’ve been walking through it for days…but in the living realm, not even a day has passed. You don’t need to rush,” Molly explained.
“Are you serious?”
Not even a day had passed since he died. There was no day or night in the Underworld. It was a strange space where the sky was invisible and he felt no hunger or fatigue. It numbed his sense of time.
In that case, let’s take this one step at a time, Glenn resolved to himself. His first priority had to be making sure he got home.
“As you can see, both Queen Elle and I are pretty lax about things…so it may take a few days. But don’t get impatient, ’kay?”
“Yes, I understand.” Glenn nodded.
First-generation Molly picked up her head and stood. Carrying her head everywhere looked inconvenient, but she was nimble in her movements.
“Okay then, I’m off to get yelled at,” she said.
“G-good luck…”
Glenn bid her goodbye and then let out a sigh.
“What are you going to do, Dr. Glenn? Until the Queen changes her mind?” Cottingley asked.
“What should we do…?” Glenn gazed out the window at the view of the Underworld. “There isn’t that much a doctor can do here after all.”
He could see shadows coming and going in the Plaza. The dead of the Underworld. As he gazed at them, he pondered how much this telepathic, mutual understanding could really convey.
Then something occurred to him.
Cottingley cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what it was.