Beneath the Bandages
The man was so worked up that he blurted out everything that came to mind, whether he should say it or not. The knights, unable to watch any longer, rushed forward to restrain him.
"Commander, there are too many eyes watching."
"And those bastards just stood there watching?"
"Ah, well… I'm sorry, Commander. But this sort of thing happens all the time! You've always let it slide before…"
People loved twisting rumors to suit their own tastes. Fabricating lewd details about things that never happened was an everyday occurrence. It was the sort of privileged humiliation that came with being a public figure. And just as Zama said, Nyx usually ignored such nonsense, letting it roll off his back without a second thought.
But today's incident was something he couldn't simply brush aside.
"Not me. Him. That guy!"
"Pardon?"
"She was being harassed. You saw it happen and did nothing?"
Nyx pointed at Tichite, who had frozen in place after losing the guiding hand on her arm.
Zama ducked his head and muttered, "Well, before I could even step in, you were already—"
"Always with the excuses the moment you open your mouth."
When the man finally swung a fist toward Zama as well, Milvian hurriedly wrapped his arms around Nyx's waist.
"Let go. You think I can't hit you?"
"Commander, that's enough. Everyone is watching and listening."
"Good. Let them hear."
"They must've thought they could get away with it because she's a Tilamin woman. The ones who didn't help are no better than those pieces of shit."
"You've only just finished evening prayers, sir."
Milvian tried to calm him by mentioning the prayers. The reminder usually worked on devout Sunset Religion followers, but it had no effect on Nyx today.
"I've never once repented for beating the crap out of some bastard with a cock. They get hit because they deserve it."
Still, he lowered his fists as Milvian intended. He swept back the strands of hair that had escaped his bandages and let out a long breath, as if trying to swallow his anger.
"Go."
"I've wasted enough time already," the man said, dusting off his hands. He kicked over the nearest chair, sending it crashing to the floor, then strode away. Tichite, following behind him, had to hurry her steps to keep up with his long strides.
***
It went without saying, but Nyx Farrow was human.
He wasn't some ghostly knight bound to an empty suit of armor, nor a cursed jester doomed to wear a helmet for life. He was a man with eyes, a nose, a mouth, and ears all in their proper places.
Well, he wasn't entirely sure about the right eye. That side was hidden beneath bandages, so he couldn't confirm whether the eyeball was still there. But the sunken part was clearly his mouth, and the prominent ridge was definitely his nose. Those bulging areas had to be his ears, and both sat straight on either side. …Though where exactly was he breathing from?
'He's more handsome than I expected.'
Tichite studied him with a dazed expression.
Though only the outline of his face was visible through the bandages, it was still possible to judge someone's looks from their bone structure alone.
His cheekbones and jawline were sharply defined, and the line of his jaw running toward his ears gave him a rugged, masculine appearance with a keen edge.
She had half-expected his face to be half-rotted or his eye sockets to be sunken, but everything was intact, without a single flaw. The stories about maggots crawling over him suddenly seemed like such worthless nonsense that she didn't even bother dwelling on them.
'I don't understand why he made such a fuss about it.'
Tichite thought with mild irritation, her eyes naturally narrowing.
Nyx had put his outer coat back on and slumped into a chair. The seat was small and his legs were long, so his knees stuck out awkwardly. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and began tapping one foot restlessly. Though his unconscious fidgeting revealed his anxiety, he spoke in his usual blunt tone, pretending nonchalance.
"Look if you want."
Tichite blinked, not immediately understanding.
"You said you wanted to see. Not just the back of my hand—other skin."
"Ah…"
When Nyx added the slightly prickly clarification, she finally understood and let out a quiet sigh.
"Yes, I'll examine you."
She answered readily and stepped toward him.
Nyx made a low sound in his throat. His body moved awkwardly and stiffly, in contrast to his bold words. As he pulled his arms free from the half-unbuttoned shirt, Zama moved in close behind him to assist.
He had already undone the top four buttons, and if he simply pushed the collar aside, one shoulder and arm would be exposed. Looking inside the shirt, Tichite could see that bandages wrapped not only his face but his entire body. The wrappings ran from his shoulder to his chest, from his chest to his armpit, and back to his shoulder again in a complex but orderly pattern.
As if he had bound himself knowing he would undress from the start, Nyx methodically unwound the bandages from his left arm. Zama held the end of the cloth and slowly transferred it to his own hands, looking as though he had performed this service many times before.
With each layer of bandage removed, Nyx's bare skin gradually came into view. The color and texture visible between the wrappings were far from ordinary.
"This is…"
Seeing how severe the condition was, Tichite's expression darkened. She couldn't even find the words to continue.
What she had seen on his fingertips last time had been only the tip of the iceberg. Following the raised veins upward revealed an even more wretched and desolate sight.
"May I touch it?"
The woman asked carefully for permission. The man swallowed with difficulty, then turned his head away. It seemed like a silent consent—I hate this more than anything, but I'll endure it.
Tichite knelt beside him and examined his forearm and shoulder up close.
The man's skin was red, dark, and hardened. Even the parts that looked relatively intact felt rough to the touch, like calluses on the soles of feet. There was no trace of softness anywhere.
Overall, the skin lesions were severe. Inflamed lumps filled with pus dotted the surface here and there, along with dry, scaly eczema, bumpy rashes, and unpleasant-looking blisters spread across wide areas. The blackened calluses were a symptom Tichite had never seen before. Wondering if there was still sensation, she reached toward that area.
"I'll press here for a moment."
She pressed firmly on the blackened skin. The dermis showed through the cracked fissures like dried, shriveled dough, bright red.
"Does it hurt?"
"Mm…"
The man furrowed his brow and nodded.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"…It's just… moderately painful."
Since when was there such a thing as moderate pain? His childish attitude during the examination was almost endearing.
But even with such an uncooperative patient, Tichite continued her careful observation.
"Please tell me if it hurts."
She noticed the particularly deep and red wrinkles at the joints and asked, "It must itch terribly… Do you scratch often?"
"No."
He admitted it did itch, but said he endured it somehow. He grumbled that he knew scratching wouldn't do any good.
The woman placed her cool palm against his pillar-like forearm. It was warm to the touch.
"Do you have any medicine to apply to the affected areas?"
When she asked, Nyx paused, his expression suggesting he was recalling something sticky and unpleasant.
"I did… but not anymore."
The uncooperative patient gave another half-hearted, sullen reply. Tichite simply nodded without pressing further.
Either he had stopped out of laziness, or it hadn't worked anyway.
"Have you tried squeezing out the pus?"
"Thanks to me, Loudhill's leeches are all gone."
"Has there been any improvement at all?"
"No. I've torn, ripped, and squeezed it every way possible, but it's the same."
The man spoke in a weary voice, like a horse too exhausted to even swish its tail at flies. His listless eyes gazed at the distant ceiling, no longer feeling pain or anger.
"I've tried everything they told me to. Every symptomatic treatment ordinary doctors could think of…"
Nyx frowned as he recalled how bothersome it had all been.
"And I came to a conclusion. Ah, this isn't the kind of illness that gets better just because I try."