Health (1)

Money can buy countless things in this world, but there are just as many that remain far beyond its reach.

Health, peace of mind, time—most are abstract concepts, yet they carry the greatest weight in human life. Among them, health stands paramount, tethered directly to existence itself. For no matter how lofty one's status, how immense one's fortune, or how dazzling one's renown, failing health renders every last bit of it utterly meaningless.

Most people live completely blind to its value, realizing its preciousness only when it has already slipped through their fingers. By the time they desperately try to claw it back, the hour is far too late. Even an emperor reigning from the heights of majestic dignity is nothing more than fragile flesh and blood in the face of illness. Worse still, once vitality crumbles, it rarely returns.

Though new regimens and methods for preserving the body have emerged over the centuries as medicine and alchemy advanced, they remain remedies for the fortunate few. Often, when an ailment flares in one part of the body, the true root lies somewhere completely unrelated—or worse, is woven into the very fabric of one's birth. Human beings are fundamentally designed to deteriorate with age. To be granted life is, by that very definition, to be promised death.

Yet, by some cruel twist of fate, there are those whose cycle runs brutally short.

Those handed a sentence of death the very moment they draw their first breath.

"Cough! Cough!"

A woman lying upon the bed was seized by a violent, racking spasm. Desperately, she pressed a handkerchief to her lips.

Her hair and eyes were as white as freshly fallen snow, matching the pale, bloodless cast of her skin. The uniform, pristine whiteness gave her an ethereal, almost otherworldly aura.

"Haaah..."

Letting out a ragged breath, she slowly lowered the cloth from her face. Stained across the pure white linen was a dark, clotted smear of blood. Anyone looking on would have recognized the severity of her state, yet she seemed completely numb to it, casually holding out the cloth to the side.

Beside her stood a young maid with chestnut hair.

"Mary. Take care of this, please."

"My Lady..."

The brown-haired girl glanced back and forth between the bloodstained handkerchief and her mistress, eyes wide with deep concern. They were gentle, doe-like eyes, brimming with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠innocent worry. The pale noblewoman caught the pure sentiment behind that gaze and offered a faint smirk—or rather, she tried to. In the end, no smile formed. Her expression remained as rigid and cold as ice.

"Perhaps... we ought to speak to His Grace the Duke once more..."

"It happens all the time. Don't make a fuss."

"But your coughing has been so terrible lately..."

"I told you, I'm fine. Just bring me another one."

The lady spoke in a brisk, aloof tone. Mary hesitated for a moment before gingerly taking the soiled cloth and setting it into a basket atop the dresser. The basket was already overflowing with blood-drenched handkerchiefs—a grim testament to just how much blood she had brought up over the days.

"...We're running low on clean handkerchiefs. I will fetch fresh ones from the laundry."

"Very well. If there are none left, tissues will do."

"Understood, My Lady."

Even as she walked toward the door, Mary could not tear her anxious gaze away. The white-haired lady simply maintained her vacant, impassive face. Once the door clicked shut behind the maid, the lady turned her gaze back forward. The air in the room settled into a chill as cold as her expression.

"Haaah..."

Selena Mercedes exhaled a long, heavy sigh and leaned back against the headboard. Her face remained carved from stone, but a deep, suffocating gloom shadowed her brow. Lifting her arm, she stared at her wrist. It was so frail and skeletal that a gentle snap seemed enough to break it. Her skin was an unnatural, ghostly white, looking more like chalk dust than living flesh.

As the crimson on the handkerchief made painfully clear, her health was in a catastrophic state. In truth, describing it merely as 'poor' did not begin to capture the horror of it.

Not much time left now, Selena thought, without a flicker of emotion.

An incurable affliction present from the day of her birth. This disease had not merely shortened her lifespan; it had carved a hard expiration date into her existence. She was destined to die the moment she reached adulthood.

According to a physician who had traveled from the Central Plains, it was known as the 'Nine Yin Severed Meridians'—the absolute worst among catastrophic illnesses. An affliction where excessive Yin Qi shattered the body's internal equilibrium, steadily eroding the flesh from within. Its defining symptom was the gradual, irreversible clogging of the blood vessels—the mana circuits.

Mana circuits were vital pathways for sustaining human life, tied inextricably to the health Selena so desperately yearned for. When ordinary people collapsed from cardiac arrest, it was often because the mana circuits near their hearts became obstructed by illness or sudden shock. In the past, nothing could be done when cardiac arrest struck, but recent techniques like CPR had at least made emergency resuscitation possible.

The heavens truly are cruel.

The Nine Yin Severed Meridians was an entirely different beast. It was not a matter of a single localized blockage like a heart attack; it meant the systematic obstruction of every mana circuit throughout the entire body. It was akin to pouring a torrential river into a delicate porcelain vessel—the container simply shattered beneath the unbearable pressure.

In exchange, however, it granted power far beyond that of ordinary mortals.

Back when Selena could still move freely, the world had called her an unrivaled genius. When it came to the arcane arts, people claimed her talent was peerless throughout the empire. Her mind was so razor-sharp that even her father, Duke Theodore, had regularly sought her counsel on matters of state.

And every bit of it is worthless.

As the days bled into weeks, it all felt utterly futile. What did it matter that she had been born into the most prestigious ducal house of the Messiah Empire? What did it matter that she possessed intellect and talent admired by all? She was still dying, utterly helpless against her own rotting body. Before the cruel reality of failing health, all power and prestige crumbled into dust.

As time slipped away, she was left with only a single, desperate wish: to rise from this bed, stand on her own two feet, and run freely under the sun.

Yet she knew all too well that it was impossible. Despite pouring every resource the ducal house possessed into finding a cure, her condition had not shown the slightest sign of improvement.

There were only three known ways to treat the Nine Yin Severed Meridians: consume a mythical herb brimming with pure Yang energy; undergo direct, invasive surgical restructuring by an unparalleled physician; or absorb pure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yang Qi directly into her body through physical union.

The first option had proven impossible, even with the vast wealth, authority, and intelligence network of the ducal house. Though their operatives scoured the black markets continuously, they turned up only illicit narcotics and human trafficking—never a trace of a true Yang-attributed spirit herb. The second option had been abandoned by every physician who tried. The procedure was unimaginably intricate and perilous, and none dared shoulder the catastrophic blame should the duke's daughter die on their operating table.

As for the third option... she would rather die. She would bite off her own tongue before laying her body bare to some unknown stranger. She refused to throw away her chastity and self-respect merely to scrape by for a few more pitiful breaths.

Besides, there are hardly any men capable of it in the first place.

To succeed, the man would need to possess power worthy of being hailed as the absolute strongest. Yet most of the legendary figures dominating current debates over the world's supreme combatants were women. The few male exceptions included Kadir, the 'Wizard King,' but he was an elderly eccentric with a deeply unsettling reputation.

I don't want to die like this, but...

Death terrified her. Because she feared it so, she had devoured knowledge relentlessly, teaching herself alchemy and medicine in a desperate bid to prolong her days. But the deeper her knowledge grew, the clearer the inescapable conclusion became: a cure was virtually impossible.

Could there be any despair more crushing? There was a time when she had wept until her throat tore. Watching her fade, her parents grew visibly tormented by their own helplessness, their faces turning grimmer with each passing day. Slowly, emotion drained from Selena's face. She was no longer clinging to hope; she was quietly resigning herself to the dark. It had been so long since she had laughed freely that she could not even remember what it felt like.

Still... doing something is better than doing nothing at all.

Even so, waiting idly with folded hands for death to claim her felt intolerable. Selena raised her head and stared into the empty air. A moment later, a semi-translucent window materialized before her eyes.

The Gallery—a space she had only started accessing after she had accepted her impending demise.

To think I once refused to even glance at it.

Anyone could connect to the Gallery as long as they met the basic requirements, regardless of age, status, or gender. Precisely because of that lack of barrier, countless people avoided it. Many detested stepping foot into a place dripping with raw, unfiltered human desire and vulgarity. Selena had been one of those detractors. But once her health took a turn for the worse, her perspective had shifted.

Has it really been that long?

Her obsession with the Gallery aligned perfectly with the steep decline of her physical body. Confined to her bed day in and day out, browsing the forums was virtually all she could do. At first, she merely lurked in silence out of boredom. Eventually, thinking she might as well leave some record of her existence behind, she began posting daily logs counting her remaining days.

Five months had passed since then. In other words, her condition had been spiraling downward for five straight months.

It turns out not everyone here is rotten to the core.

When malicious comments and ridicule initially flooded her posts, she had thought, Of course, what else did I expect? Yet as the days stretched on and users realized her terminal logs were not some elaborate roleplay but a tragic reality, words of genuine encouragement began trickling in. Furthermore, the main moderator—though unquestionably eccentric—possessed a fierce sense of justice, instantly swinging the banhammer on anyone who crossed the line into cruel harassment.

Thanks to that, she was able to log in with a much lighter heart than before. When a person accepts their mortality, an odd sense of boundless liberation tends to settle in. Gradually acclimating to the cesspool of forum desires, Selena had evolved into a seasoned forum regular.

Her hollowed-out emotions had even begun to spark faintly back to life. Curiously enough, most of those returning emotions were 'envy' and 'petty jealousy.'

Even scum like that get to live with healthy limbs... so why me?

It was a bitter irony. Yet she could not pull herself away from the Gallery. And recently, an exceptionally bizarre registered user had appeared, drawing her fascination like a moth to a flame.

Wild Grylls... just how on earth did he end up stranded in the Forest of the Four Seasons?

Browsing the Gallery often exposed one to sights that defied common sense, but a man tumbling into the Forest of the Four Seasons was on another level entirely. The forest was a primordial death zone where spatial dimensions shifted erratically, making an extradimensional connection to the Gallery theoretically impossible. Yet this man not only browsed with absolute stability, he had provided photographic proof of his surroundings multiple times, instantly becoming the center of attention.

At first, she had viewed him merely as an object of pity, but their brief transaction had altered her perception. He could have easily pocketed the compass she sent, yet he made sure to return it without hesitation. That alone proved he was far from a depraved or dishonorable man.

His fragile, fly-like existence gives me an odd sense of kinship, too.

While Selena was on a countdown to death, Grylls lived with a noose perennially dangling around his neck. That subtle parallel had steadily taken root in the forum. Occasionally, debates flared up over which of them would kick the bucket first, though such threads vanished almost immediately. The Main Moderator likely stepped in with swift bans, deeming it unacceptable to weigh human lives as forum entertainment.

If only the first herb he discovered had been something else...

The thought surfaced every time she read his posts. The precious medicinal herb he had stumbled across—the Crescent Moon Spirit Grass. Unfortunately, that grass specialized in energetic stabilization rather than supplying raw Yang essence. She remembered the gnawing disappointment she had felt back then. Had it been an herb brimming with pure Yang Qi, she would have moved heaven and earth to acquire it, sparing neither gold nor dignity.

Though if that had happened, would the Heavenly Demon have been the one in peril?

Judging by the actions of the Heavenly Demon—who was widely presumed to have received the grass—the answer was clear. The Heavenly Demon was one of the most notorious fixed-nick users on the forum, making her behavior patterns easy enough for Selena to decipher.

For someone with such monstrous pride to treat him with that level of reverence, she definitely received the Crescent Moon Spirit Grass.

The Heavenly Demon was infamous for spamming the boards with erratic, unhinged shitposts. She posted continuously without caring what anyone thought, giving Selena ample material to reconstruct her psychological profile: an individual possessing towering self-esteem and absolute confidence. Particularly, her self-worth was monstrously high. One only had to watch her casually post bizarre martial ramblings to figure that out.

Did she say 'Silence!' was an archaic Central Plains reprimand?

Yet that very sovereign had openly betrayed frantic urgency during the incident with the Crescent Moon Spirit Grass. And once she received it, she began treating Grylls with startling deference. It was undeniable proof that she had suffered severe internal injuries and had been saved by Grylls's intervention.

Grylls... is an utter pushover, isn't he?

Selena analyzed him behind her unchanging, stoic mask. Grylls's character could be summed up in a single proverb: Speak kindly, and kindness will be returned in kind. His actions mirrored that creed precisely. Even while stranded in a primordial death world where taking everything he could get was a matter of survival, he went out of his way to repay any favor shown to him.

He really runs into the most bizarre creatures.

Selena checked his posts constantly. Beyond the strange kinship she felt with his fragile mortality, she was plagued by an underlying dread: if his posts ever stopped, it meant he had died.

That's why I can't look away.

She wanted to see what strange beast he would encounter next, and how he would scrape through the next impossible ordeal. It had even coaxed her into writing comments—something she rarely did—gifting her small pockets of genuine amusement amidst her dreary days. Tiny ripples were beginning to stir across the frozen surface of Selena's heart.

"Cough! Cough-hack!"

Splatter!

If only her decaying body weren't dragging her down by the second.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sudden, violent fit forced Selena to clamp both hands over her mouth. Since Mary had stepped out for fresh cloths, she had no choice but to catch it with her bare skin.

"..."

Fighting through the sudden bout of vertigo, she looked down at her trembling hands. Seeing dark blood pooled in her pale palms made the icy shadow of death feel infinitely more visceral than seeing it soaked into cloth. Her body was signaling that it had finally hit its absolute limit.

Click—

"My Lady, I've brought the—My Lady?!"

Mary returned at that exact moment. Dropping the fresh linens in sheer panic, she rushed straight to the bedside.

"...Mary."

"I-I will summon the physician immediately! The blood today is..."

"No. Stop. It's fine... It's over."

"My Lady?"

Hearing her refuse the doctor, Mary looked up with wide, horrified eyes. Selena read the terror in the girl's face and offered a slight nod.

"I truly don't think I have much time left."

"M-My Lady, please don't give up so easily...!"

"I have studied medicine myself. I know my own body better than anyone."

To keep herself alive, Selena had devoured every scrap of medical knowledge she could find. Yet all that labor had yielded was the cold, mathematical certainty of her impending death. Mary stared with quivering, tear-filled eyes, but Selena remained steadfast.

"Thank you for the handkerchiefs. Go rest now. I will ring if I need anything."

"...My Lady."

"I want to be alone. Please, go."

Faced with Selena's quiet, icy dismissal, Mary had no choice but to back out of the room, her eyes never leaving her mistress until the door latched shut. That pure, tenderhearted devotion warmed Selena's chest, even as her expression remained as desolate as a frozen winter landscape.

I must ask Father to adopt Mary as his daughter.

It would serve as her dying wish, and her final reward to the loyal maid who had stayed by her side to the very end. Leaning her head back against the pillow, Selena felt the dizziness recede slightly, only to be replaced by a leaden, crushing weight spreading through her limbs. She lacked the strength to take even a single step past the edge of the mattress.

Is Mr. Grylls... holding up all right?

Whenever death crept a step closer, her mind instinctively drifted to him. If she was slowly drowning in mortality's tide, he was dancing along the razor's edge of the abyss every single second. Squinting through her dimming vision, she reopened the Gallery interface.

Adult Mandrake... Root? What on earth is this now?

Leave it to Grylls. He had stumbled upon something extraordinary once again. Though it was a plant rather than a beast this time, it gripped her attention all the more fiercely.

Mandrakes are known to harbor potent Yang energy...

Could this provide even a sliver of relief for her condition? Spurred by that faint flicker of thought, she traded comments on the thread, only to uncover a staggering revelation:

An adult mandrake could actually cure me?

Yet an impossible condition immediately followed: it required at least six fully matured specimens. Finding even a single adult mandrake was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle, and the forum demanded six? It was nothing short of cruel psychological torture. Just as she was about to abandon the thought entirely, a comment appeared that made her heart stop:

Caught off guard, she had blurted out an utterly uncharacteristic reply. It sounded too absurd to be true. Even in a mythical realm like the Forest of the Four Seasons, finding clusters of legendary mandrakes seemed impossible. Yet when Grylls uploaded his follow-up post complete with photographic evidence, her skepticism evaporated.

Could it... truly be possible?

With his help, could she actually break free from this living nightmare? Selena had brewed elixirs before; she had spent her life studying alchemy in the pursuit of her own survival. And by sheer fortune, Grylls desired high-grade elixirs rather than gold. Should she achieve a full recovery, supplying him with elixirs for the rest of his days would be child's play.

Is this how the Heavenly Demon was saved?

She harbored no doubts of foul play. The Heavenly Demon herself stood as living proof, openly venerating the man as her life's savior. Of course, whether the adult mandrakes would completely eradicate the Nine Yin Severed Meridians remained to be seen. But she was grasping at straws, and this was the sturdiest straw she had ever touched.

Can Mr. Grylls harvest them all in time?

Her situation wasn't a matter of days or weeks; she could collapse and die tomorrow. Had Grylls found them just a bit earlier, she might have had breathing room.

Mandrakes take an immense amount of time and care to safely harvest... Will he be all right?

Just as anxiety began gnawing at her insides, a notification chimed softly in her vision:

It was Grylls. Selena blinked in disbelief, staring at the flashing prompt.

Did he collect them all in that short span of time?

Hope surged within her chest, but she quickly shook her head to quell it.

No. He's likely handing over what he managed to catch beforehand.

That was far more logical. There was no sense in setting herself up for heartbreak. Keeping her expectations firmly in check, she accepted the request.

Selena sat frozen in disbelief, blinking once, then twice. She couldn't fathom whether mandrakes were ever meant to be harvested in such a barbaric manner. Normally, casting silence or deep sleep magic was considered the absolute standard.

Is this what forum users refer to as 'physical magic'?

Regardless, he claimed to have gathered them all, so she needed to receive them. Gulping down dry saliva, Selena continued the conversation. In stark contrast to her rigid, stony face, her written responses overflowed with unrestrained emotion.

What an utterly naive mindset. If he was betrayed, he would simply walk away—that was all there was to it. Selena let out a faint, hollow huff before her expression froze back into its usual stillness. Yet, the corners of her lips curled upward by an imperceptible fraction.

No wonder the Heavenly Demon had courted him so aggressively. Even if he acted strangely at times, his core was undeniably good.

The dying ember of hope lingering in her chest was slowly catching wind, flaring into a true flame. Filling her heart with that warmth, a sudden curiosity struck her. Grylls, like herself, was a soul living in death's immediate shadow. A man who could perish tomorrow without surprising a soul.

There was a famous old adage:

Even if the world were to end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.

It was such a tired, predictable sentiment that it bordered on trite. She half-expected Grylls to offer some similar philosophical musing, but his response shattered her expectations entirely.

"..."

Think about how to live today.

Those simple words burrowed deep into Selena's heart, echoing like thunder. She, too, had once harbored an agonizing thirst for life. But her cursed body had shattered that desire into dust, leaving her to passively mark the days until her demise.

And yet, right now...

She stared blankly down at her lap. The trade window had closed, leaving several writhing, bright-red mandrakes resting quietly atop her blanket.

I want to live.

Ding!

Without a breath of hesitation, Selena struck the brass bedside bell. The chime had barely faded when Mary, who had been waiting right outside the door, came scurrying back into the chamber.

"Do you need something, My Lady?"

"Mary. Take me to the laboratory."

"The laboratory?"

"Yes."

Before the bewildered maid could fully process the command, Selena pointed down toward her lap.

"Together with these."

Mary's gaze dropped to the mature mandrakes, and her head tilted in complete confusion.

"What on earth are these ugly plants? Where did you even get them?"

"Well..." Selena paused, turning the words over in her mind, before offering a quiet murmur. "Let's just say... I have my ways."

For now, a vague brush-off was the only answer she could give.