NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28: Strange Jotter.
"And look at you, cowering on the floor like a frightened rabbit after a little taste of pain. I thought you were made of sterner stuff, the village's 'little hero'. It seems you're just as weak-willed as the rest of them."
" Being trapped in this village for so long has made everyone weak and unaware of what the outside world is really about." Mr Miller muttered beneath his breath.
Adrian strangely managed to keep calm under the man's taunt, instead his mind couldn't help brushing over something else Mr Miller had mentioned.
" Ritual... You just said something about a ritual." Adrian's brows furrowed together. " What do you mean by ritual exactly..."
Even when back on earth and now that he was in this new body of his, he still had an idea of what a ritual was... I'm some cases it was a good thing, like a prayer ritual at a temple or a celebratory ritual but I'm this case Adrian would be a fool if he believed the doctor had been praying to some god back then. Which left the other possibilities.
' He didn't conduct some kind of witch craft on me did he?' Adrian strangely felt a bit patched at the moment. He understood that he and the doctor weren't on good terms but he didn't believe their relationship was strained to the point of him casting something ominous on him.
But before he could ask. The both of them heard a soft whimper in the room.
Both of them turned their heads toward the stone table. The grey-haired girl was stirring, her ash-colored eyebrows furrowing as a shiver wracked her body. Her wounds were gone, her skin smooth and unmarked, but she looked small and vulnerable lying on the cold slab, her only covering still being Adrian's discarded fur tunic.
The sight of her, alive and in distress, doused Adrian's anger as effectively as a bucket of ice water. His rage was replaced by a protective, urgent concern. "Is she… is she okay?"
Mr. Miller didn't answer. He simply turned his back on Adrian and walked over to the table, his earlier mockery gone, replaced by a focused, professional demeanor. Adrian could do nothing but watch, but that didn't mean he was happy with being ignored.
" Hey! I asked you a question! What's wrong with her?" Adrian froze the next moment when the doctor shot him a never been seen stare.
" For your sake, I hope your aren't this talkative with the next Witcher you meet, boy." The doctor said before he continued to act as if Adrian weren't even in the room. He gently felt the girl's forehead, checked the pulse at her neck, and then reached for a heavy, warm-looking fur coat that was draped over a nearby chair. With a surprising tenderness, he bundled the unconscious girl into the thick fur, tucking it securely around her small frame. Then, he turned, walked back to Adrian, and simply placed the bundled girl into his arms. He also handed Adrian back his own fur tunic. Unlike Adrian's, the one the doctor used to cover the girl was more larger and compact.
Adrian was so taken aback that he automatically accepted the weight, his arms closing around the girl wrapped in the oversized coat. She was warm, and her breathing was even and deep, as if in a natural sleep. He stared down at her peaceful face, then back up at the doctor, his mouth opening to retort, to demand answers, to unleash the torrent of questions and accusations swirling in his mind.
" Is that how you stare at your own mother, boy." Mr Miller shot back before Adrian could manage a sentence.
" There's no need for you to keep looking at me like that. She is your responsibility now, that's all there is to it." Mr. Miller stated flatly, cutting off any protest before it could begin. His voice brooked no argument. "You spared her life in the woods, and you intervened again here. That makes her your charge. I expect her to be healthy, safe, and perfectly fine the next time you bring her to me for a check-up. Do you understand?"
Before Adrian could form a single syllable of the furious reply burning on his tongue, the doctor reached into a pocket of his own coat and tossed a small, leather-bound jotter at him. Adrian fumbled, barely catching it with one hand while balancing the girl in his other arm.
"What is this?"
" For now, that's all the answers you'll get out of me." said the doctor, Adrian's eyes were instantly drawn to the jotter.
" Wait a minute, how's one little jotter supposed to explain all this, and what did you mean by Witche–" Adrian began, but the words died in his throat.
The world around him seemed to lurch and blur. The cold stone of the basement floor vanished from beneath his feet, replaced by the uneven, frozen ground. The scent of old bones and herbs was snatched away by a gust of biting winter wind.
He blinked, and in that single blink, he was no longer in the hidden basement. He was now standing outside, in the deep snow, right in front of the clinic's main door, the sign of the moon out and the quiet village sleeping around him made him realize that he must've lost track of time.
The transition was so instantaneous and disorienting that he stumbled, nearly dropping the girl. He stared, dumbfounded, at the closed door of the clinic, then down at the girl sleeping peacefully in his arms, and finally at the small, mysterious jotter clutched in his hand.
His eyes went from the jotter to the girl and finally on the clinic, as if he couldn't believe any of these things had actually happened and yet, they had.
" Nevermind... First things first. I need to get home quickly, I'm sure mother must be worried sick.. and I also need to get..." Adrian's words faltered as his gaze landed on the girl in his arms. I need to get her close to a fire before that blasted old man blames me if anything were to happen to her."
It hasn't been long before had left, when a soft rustle came from behind a tall shelf of preserved specimens within the doctors workshop. Amy, the doctor's daughter, peeked out from behind a large jar containing something that floated in a murky liquid, her orange pigtails seeming to vibrate with curiosity.
One wouldn't expect a girl like herself to be found in such a place but since it was her father's, it made some sense that she knew about this place, but the fact that Adrian didn't notice her enter meant that there must be another passage to enter the workshop.
"Papa," she said, her voice a hushed, excited whisper as she stepped fully into the lantern light. "What in the world was all that about? What were you doing with Adrian? And who was that girl? She had such strange hair!" Her words seemed numerous, probably because she had a lot to say, her eyes wide as she glanced toward the now-empty stone table. From the looks of it, she might've been hidden for awhile now. Watching all that had transpired.
"...my little girl, just what am I going to do with you."
Mr. Miller let out a long, weary sigh, the kind that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken worries. He began meticulously returning the scattered instruments and toppled skeletons to their proper places, his movements slow and deliberate. "It is not your concern, Amy. It is a complicated matter that does not involve you."
"But it does involve Adrian!" she insisted, stepping closer and placing her hands on her hips, a familiar stubborn set to her jaw. "He's my friend! And you were using blood magic, I saw the chalice! You said blood magic was dangerous, and that's why you never taught it to me–"
" I never taught it to you because I never expected my own daughter would actually doubt her own father because of some, boy." Mr Miller flashed her an annoyed look.
To think that when he had muffled Adrian's scream back then, he had felt a faint shiver down his spine. Only when he glanced at the spot near the shelves did he see his own daughter glaring at him.
The doctor stopped his tidying and looked at his daughter, his expression softening with a deep, paternal concern that he never showed anyone else. "Amy," he said, his voice losing its gruff edge. "You must understand. That boy… his path is about to diverge sharply from ours. The man he rescued from the goblins, he is not from here. He will be leaving soon, and Adrian will be going with him. It is the only way for him to find a real future, If not for himself, I'm sure he would agree just to better his mother's life, after all. The boys, filial to a fault."
' Unlike a certain someone who doesn't hesitate to raise her arms against her own father...' Mr Miller said to himself.
" You cannot get attached. He will be gone soon."
Amy's face fell instantly. The bright, inquisitive light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a profound sadness that made her look much younger than her sixteen years. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the floor where Adrian had lain unconscious. "He's… leaving?" she whispered, the words barely audible.
Seeing her dejection, Mr. Miller's stern facade cracked completely. The so called dad who was trying to put up a strong front, couldn't beat to see his daughter this sad, not even for a moment. He walked over and placed a large, comforting hand on her shoulder. "However." he said, his voice gentle. "when he does go, if you still wish to… I will not stop you from following."
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief that quickly transformed into radiant joy. "Truly, Papa? You mean it? I could go with him? I could practice my healing skills out in the world, do you truly mean it?"
"I do not make empty promises my little girl." he replied, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. "But yes. If that is still your wish when the time comes, you may go."
She beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet with unrestrained excitement. Then, her gaze fell upon the now-clean stone table, and her expression turned sly. "So… if he's so temporary, why did you give him the jotter? That little book has recipes in it that are worth more than this whole village. I've seen you fight off traveling alchemists who offered sacks of gold for a single page." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a teasing conspiratorial whisper. "Do you actually… like him? All this time, with all your grumbling and cold stares, is it just an act? Do you secretly not hate Adrian after all?"
Mr. Miller's smile vanished, replaced by a look of flustered exasperation. "Do not be absurd, girl," he chided, though there was no real heat in his words. "The journal is a tool, nothing more. Its value is in its use, not gathering dust on a shelf. Now, stop your foolish chatter and go check on our actual patient upstairs. And not a word of this to anyone, you hear me?"
Amy giggled, a sound like ringing bells in the somber basement, and gave her father a quick, impulsive hug before scampering back toward the stairs, her spirits utterly restored and her mind already racing with dreams of adventures beyond the village.
****
For Adrian, The journey home through the sleeping village was a slow, arduous trek. The blizzard had passed, leaving behind a deep, pristine blanket of snow that glowed faintly under the sliver of moon.
Adrian carried the grey-haired girl carefully, her body was warm now that she had plenty of insulation from his cloth, compared to his basket of herbs he couldn't call her heavy either, it was as if...