The Young Doctor

Morning sunlight spilled across the quiet village of Ravenhill, bathing its wooden rooftops in a soft golden glow.

Thin curls of smoke rose lazily from chimneys as villagers began their daily routines. Farmers led oxen toward the fields, merchants arranged their wares along the dusty road, and children chased each other through the narrow streets with carefree laughter.

To anyone passing through, Ravenhill would appear like any other village in the Lower World.

Peaceful.

Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Yet within this peaceful morning—

A boy ran through the streets as if the world were ending.

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with every desperate gasp. Dirt clung to his clothes, and his knees were scraped raw from falling again and again as he sprinted from house to house.

Tears streamed down his face.

“Please! Someone help!” he cried.

“My father is dying!”

Villagers stopped to stare.

Some looked sympathetic.

Others simply lowered their eyes.

Not because they lacked compassion—

But because they already knew what illness the boy was talking about.

The boy stopped in front of a wooden building marked by a faded sign.

Doctor’s Clinic

Hope flickered inside his chest.

He rushed forward and banged on the door.

“Please! Doctor! Please help my father!”

The door creaked open.

An elderly man appeared, his gray beard trembling slightly as he leaned on a wooden cane.

“What is it, child?” he asked gently.

“My father… he has Crimson Fever!”

The old man froze.

The color drained from his face.

“…Crimson Fever?”

The boy nodded frantically.

“Yes! Please! You have to help him!”

The old doctor slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

The words struck the boy like a hammer.

“…What?”

“If I catch it,” the doctor said quietly, “I could die too.”

The door closed.

Just like that.

The boy stood there, staring at the wooden door in disbelief.

Then he ran again.

From one healer to another.

From one house to the next.

Each time he knocked, he begged with the same desperate words.

And each time—

He was refused.

“Take him to the capital.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m sorry.”

But the capital was two days away.

His father would not survive that long.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed the boy’s small body.

His legs gave out in the middle of the dirt road.

He collapsed onto his knees, trembling as tears fell onto the ground.

“…Someone… please…”

His voice broke.

“…help my father…”

Then—

A shadow fell over him.

“Kid.”

The voice was calm.

Warm.

“Why are you crying like the world ended?”

The boy slowly lifted his head.

Standing before him was a tall young man with bright orange hair that caught the sunlight like flame.

His blue eyes were clear and calm, carrying none of the fear the other villagers had shown.

Beside him stood a young woman.

Her long black hair flowed like silk down her back, and her violet eyes seemed distant—almost otherworldly.

The boy sniffed, wiping his face.

“My father… he’s sick…”

The man crouched down so they were eye level.

“What sickness?”

“Crimson Fever.”

The young man blinked once.

“…That’s serious.”

The boy’s shoulders sank.

“I know… everyone said they can’t help…”

The man reached out and gently ruffled the boy’s hair.

“But they’re not me.”

The boy stared at him.

“…What?”

The man smiled.

“I’m a doctor.”

Hope exploded inside the boy’s chest.

“You are?!”

The man stood up casually.

“Lead the way.”

The boy jumped to his feet.

“Yes! Yes!”

He ran ahead immediately.

The man followed calmly, hands tucked inside his coat pockets.

The young woman walked beside him.

“You didn’t hesitate,” she said quietly.

The man shrugged.

“Someone’s life is on the line.”

“You could catch the disease.”

He laughed softly.

“That’s part of the job.”

She studied him for a moment.

“…You’re strange, Ivan.”

Ivan grinned.

“I’ve been called worse.”

The boy stopped in front of a small wooden house at the edge of the village.

“This is it!”

He pushed the door open.

“Mother! I brought a doctor!”

Inside the house, the air felt thick with heat and worry.

A woman sat beside a bed where a man lay trembling beneath several blankets.

Her eyes widened when she saw Ivan.

“Please… help him!”

Ivan stepped forward immediately.

“Let me see.”

He placed a hand on the man’s forehead.

His expression sharpened.

The man’s skin burned with fever.

A faint red color had spread across his neck and chest.

Crimson Fever.

Ivan turned toward Elen.

“Medicine kit.”

She handed it to him without hesitation.

Ivan quickly crushed herbs and mixed them with hot water.

The boy stood beside him anxiously.

“Will he be okay?”

Ivan didn’t look up.

“If we’re lucky.”

The woman covered her mouth.

“Lucky…?”

Ivan lifted the man’s head slightly.

“Drink this.”

The man swallowed slowly.

Minutes passed.

The room was silent except for the sound of his breathing.

Then—

His breathing steadied.

The red color began to fade.

The woman gasped.

“It’s working!”

The boy ran to the bedside.

“Father!”

The man slowly opened his eyes.

“…What happened?”

The boy burst into tears.

“You were dying!”

The man looked at Ivan in confusion.

“You… saved me?”

Ivan stood and wiped his hands.

“You’ll need more medicine, but you’ll recover.”

The man looked embarrassed.

“But… I can’t pay you.”

Ivan waved his hand dismissively.

“I didn’t come for money.”

The woman bowed deeply.

“Thank you… truly…”

The boy bowed even lower.

“I’ll never forget this!”

Ivan scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“It’s nothing.”

He turned toward the door.

“Come on, Elen.”

They stepped outside into the fresh air.

The afternoon sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky.

Ivan stretched his arms lazily.

“Another successful morning.”

Elen looked at him.

“You really don’t expect anything in return.”

Ivan shrugged.

“Seeing someone live is enough.”

Elen said nothing.

Instead, her gaze drifted toward the forest beyond the village.

Something felt wrong.

The wind had stopped.

The trees were too still.

Deep within the forest—

Something moved.

Elen narrowed her eyes.

“…Ivan.”

“Hmm?”

“I think we’re being watched.”

Ivan looked toward the dark treeline.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ivan smiled faintly.

“Probably just wolves.”

But far beyond the forest—

A pair of glowing eyes opened in the darkness.

And a low voice whispered into the wind.

“So… the vessel is here.”