The Black Death (4)

The disaster struck right in the middle of a council session.

"Huh...?"

Evelyn was chewing on a mouthful of canned tuna when the world abruptly blurred into a hazy white.

Thud!

"Your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Majesty!"

By the time her senses caught up with her, she was already sprawled across the cold stone floor. Lloyd, who had been standing on standby nearby, bolted across the chamber in a panic, and the entire council room erupted into chaos.

"What happened?!"

"A doctor! Fetch a physician this instant!"

Evelyn weakly brought a hand to the bridge of her nose. When she drew it back, her trembling index finger was slick with pitch-black blood.

"Your Majesty... your fingertips..."

Her hands were visibly blackened and necrotic, flesh rotting away like that of a long-dead corpse. The moment the councilors caught sight of it, the blood in their veins turned to ice.

There was no need for explanation. Those gruesome marks belonged to only one scourge—the Black Death, in its final, irreversible stage just before death.

"An ordinary physician won't do! Bring the Gallery Doctors here at once!"

Lloyd's frantic dispatch bore fruit roughly half an hour later, when two Gallery Doctors hurried into the room. After the briefest exchange of formalities, they immediately set to work examining the Queen. But the longer their diagnostic tools lingered over Evelyn, the colder and bleaker their expressions became.

"What is the diagnosis?" Lloyd pressed.

Evelyn had received an antibiotic injection just days ago. If she was under active medical treatment, her condition should have improved, or at the very least stabilized. Instead, she had plummeted straight to death's door.

"The treatment was administered far too late," one doctor replied grimly.

Antibiotics had to be introduced at the very first whisper of symptoms to hold back the plague. But ever since taking the throne, Evelyn had met countless delegates, envoys, and foreign dignitaries from beyond the city walls. In truth, she had contracted the disease long before the first rumors of the Black Death even began circulating on the forum.

"The infection has already disseminated throughout her entire body."

"Even if that is true, how could it ravage her so swiftly?!"

"Her Majesty's constitution is simply too frail to mount a defense."

She had spent years confined in darkness. Once she finally tasted freedom, an endless procession of monumental trials had battered her without pause: the founding of a new realm, the grueling coronation rites, and relentless monster incursions. Exhaustion had quietly accumulated down to her very bones. Even if a miracle somehow purged the plague, the odds of her fragile body surviving the aftermath were vanishingly thin.

"Is there truly no other way?"

"It is not our place to decide, but..."

The Gallery Doctors looked away with troubled grimaces. Lloyd understood the unspoken verdict immediately. They were suggesting he administer painkillers—a quiet prescription to let her pass without agony.

"...I see," Evelyn murmured softly.

"Your Majesty!"

"It's all right, Lloyd. It cannot be helped."

A scorching fever was tearing through her veins, accompanied by sickening vertigo and violent, bone-rattling chills. Yet, with surprising serenity, Evelyn accepted the analgesic injection. As the soothing agent took effect, the pain etched across her furrowed brow finally melted away into calm resignation.

Leaving Lloyd wringing his hands in helpless despair, she weakly signaled to him with a flick of her eyes.

"Bring it to me."

"I cannot, Your Majesty! It is far too early to surrender! You are the sovereign of Kellierton, are you not?!"

"Quickly, please."

Her voice was faint, but the absolute resolve behind it left Lloyd no choice. Reluctantly, he retrieved a concealed metal tin from beneath his cloak. It was a Pepper Tuna Can—a rare treat that had been strictly rationed and practically forbidden as her health declined. Peeling back the lid of the luxury tin, which was normally reserved only for momentous celebrations, she took a generous bite.

"Mmm... it's delicious."

Even now, with her senses numbed by approaching death, the rich, savory fire of the peppered fish was nothing short of miraculous. Truth be told, Evelyn did not want to die. She wanted to live a long, peaceful life, growing comfortably old while savoring canned tuna until her final days.

Still... I have no regrets.

By all rights, she should have died more than half a year ago. It was the Head Moderator who had pulled her back from the abyss, and thanks to him, every single day since had been filled with genuine warmth and happiness. If his intervention had been granted merely to afford her a few months of bliss before her time was up, she could hardly harbor resentment.

"Now... I will finally go ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see Father."

"...Your Majesty."

Even after donning the crown and dispatching scouts far and wide, she had found no trace of her missing family. It had lingered in her heart as an unyielding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ache—the faint, foolish hope that perhaps, somewhere out there, they were still alive. Only now, staring into the shadow of the grave, could she finally lay that lingering grief to rest.

After scraping the tin clean to the very last flake, Evelyn gently shut her eyes and steadied her shallow breathing.

"Listen closely, Lloyd."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

"There is something I must tell the Head Moderator."

Lloyd's face fell in sorrow, but he sank to both knees, desperate to record her final will so he could relay it to the forum.

"I will never forget," Evelyn whispered through strained breaths, a faint, radiant smile gracing her lips. "From the very first moment you saved my life... to everything you have done for me since. I will cherish every memory."

She had weighed the words in her heart for so long, and now, at the end of the line, she chose to lay it bare. Though she had never once laid eyes upon his true face, her feelings toward him had blossomed into something far deeper than mere gratitude.

"Juddak... It seems I... l-lo—"

Right at that exact second—

"BY THE HEAVENS!!!!!"

"...?!"

Lloyd leaped into the air with a shriek that sounded like an ecstatic battle cry.

"Your Majesty! The Head Moderator has sent a package! You can be saved!"

Lloyd had posted a desperate SOS on the forum, and right on cue, a dimensional barter prompt had flashed into reality before his eyes.

It was none other than the legendary panacea, the sacred heirloom of the rabbit beastkin tribe.

As Lloyd danced around the chamber in wild celebration, he suddenly paused and turned around with wide, innocent eyes.

"Ah, but Your Majesty, what were you about to say just now? 'Lo...?'"

"..."

Evelyn yanked the bedsheets over her head, burying her face beneath the linen. But no amount of fabric could hide the violent, blazing crimson flush that spread clear across her ears and neck. After a suffocating silence where she could only twitch her lips in mortification, she squeaked out the most casual thing her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠panicked brain could conjure:

"Lo... logistics! What is four times four plus two?!"

"Pardon?"

Eighteen. Eighteen!

Why did he have to send it right now?!

Having prepared herself for death and worked up the courage to deliver a tearful romantic confession, Evelyn now found herself wishing she could die purely from sheer, unadulterated embarrassment.

The Tuna Queen was on the verge of kicking the bucket.

"Tuna, oh Tuna... how did things get this bad?"

A fragile body surviving on nothing but canned tuna was bound to suffer severe nutritional deficiencies. Piling the Black Death on top of that without even realizing she was infected made this catastrophic outcome completely predictable. In that state, it was a total gamble whether standard antibiotic shots would keep her alive.

But who am I?

"The proud owner of the 100% Golden Carrot."

A while back, I had saved a tribe of rabbit beastfolk from an onslaught of roaming beasts, and they had gifted me a few tokens of gratitude. One had been a ticket to the rabbit burrow, and the other was this very Golden Carrot—a mythical panacea rumored to purge any disease in existence. Seeing as I was partly responsible for thrusting her onto that stressful royal throne in the first place, parting with it was an easy choice.

"It should be around here somewhere..."

My underground warehouse was practically overflowing with bizarre trinkets and tokens gifted by various forum users. After spelunking through the piles of clutter like an intrepid explorer, I finally unearthed the dust-coated golden root. I gave it a brisk wipe, rinsed it under the tap, and sent it straight to Lloyd via the trade interface. The reply arrived almost instantaneously.

It was super effective!

Seeing the photo of Tuna Queen completely cured, with her healthy pink cheeks restored, brought a satisfied smile to my face. Naturally, I right-clicked and saved the picture first. But I couldn't just stop there.

When I supplied the Gallery Doctors with antibiotics, I had also bundled several other medical supplies into their packs, including concentrated nutritional IV drips.

"What's the point of surviving the Black Death if she just collapses from exhaustion right after?"

With a wrecked immune system, she would catch the next common bug and find herself knocking on the pearly gates all over again. To address that, I decided to dump a brand-new consumable into the forum marketplace.

They were cheap, accessible energy recovery drinks—simple modern tonics that anyone could pick up for pennies.

Between releasing antibiotics, mass-producing nutritional IV drips, and flooding the market with cheap energy tonics, the entire gallery was frothing at the mouth in an absolute frenzy. The users were practically rioting, demanding an official statement from their elusive Head Moderator, and I reached the conclusion that leaving them on read was no longer viable.

"Clarification? What the hell am I even supposed to clarify?"

I had already explained this dozens of times. For the love of God, I can't use magic! If I could conjure a flaming fireball from my fingertips, I would have recorded a video and plastered it on the front page as a sticky post ages ago.

With a heavy sigh, I sat down at the terminal and typed out a thread.

With that, the immediate existential crisis surrounding the Black Death began to recede. However, in terms of long-term prevention and containment, the real struggle was only just beginning.

The Gallery Doctors had distributed basic preventative measures, but vital public health information was still poorly understood by the broader populace, leaving a massive vulnerability for secondary infections and recurring outbreaks.

"It'd be nice if there were a central archive compiling all this knowledge..."

A dynamic, crowdsourced repository—not an authoritarian, top-down announcement that terrified people, but an open platform where users could freely participate and contribute verified data while retaining a baseline of credibility.

"...Wait a second."

A sudden flash of inspiration sparked in my mind.

It was the quiet dawn of the Destruction Gallery Wiki.