The Royal Physician Has Given Up

Kaffel woke up in a lavish room. He could smell the salty air. The room did not seem familiar. He could not remember—

—he remembered.

It felt like yesterday: Maniattania Kingdom, Anachronicosis, Alkermes, and the whole apocalypse in the form of a Plague. Kaffel shuddered. The shudder must have jarred his stiff joints, and that was how he discovered that this was not heaven.

He should have died.

Kaffel sat up and massaged his temple. The giant cordyceps had lived for one thousand years. Kaffel took its years as a penance. Then he must have been… one thousand years in the future.

Kaffel moved to the bedside. Standing up, he realized his muscles had dwindled. There was the razor-like taste inside his throat, a sign he had been tube-fed until just recently. He checked below—good, he only wore a diaper. Not that it made him feel better.

He managed to drag his frail body to the closest chair and sat there. The chair faced a window overlooking the sea. Kaffel had imagined the future would look grim, with constant war and suffering. He was content with the waves.

A teardrop fell. It was his.

He looked at his own reflection. It was hard to tell whether he had aged much or perhaps his frailty was from being bedridden. Then again, he could not explain how he was alive or how his memory was intact.

Who knew thinking could take so much energy? Kaffel leaned back in the chair. He dozed.

“Kaffel!”

He blinked. That was his name, alright. It felt so long since anyone had said it. The erasure must have been cancelled when he died.

“Kaffel,” a voice said, more slowly, “can you hear me?”

So persistent. He’d be forced to work, huh. Pretty soon, once he woke up, they’d register his taxation number. One thousand years, and humanity still extorted from their own kind.

“He smiled!” the same voice remarked. “Call the physician!”

He was the physician. But he couldn’t bear to work. Oh, he was not the one being called? Nobody died if he dozed off for five extra minutes?

What an oddity. Kaffel opened his eyes.

Sunset had arrived when he came to. His eyes widened. “The patients,” he said suddenly, “how are the patients?”

Guests surrounded him, but their eyes were not judging. A short-haired woman with a mole under her mouth, a tall physician with leaves for hair, and a girl with crimson hair and heterochromia had walked into the room.

“Kaffel,” the girl with the crimson hair said. She was trembling, clearly holding herself back from hugging him. “D-do you remember me? Us?”

Kaffel paused. Nobody demanded him to think fast. That was new.

“Are you their descendants?” Kaffel asked slowly. “I have… I had a sister just like you. But I guess being so far past my time, she had died.”

Kaffel’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Milica had died, huh? Fritz, too… Savina as well…” Kaffel bit his lip. It hurt more than usual. He had scurvy. “I failed to die. I meant no offense, and I appreciate your help, but my companions… I can’t live without them.”

The descendants cried too. Initially, they were reluctant to hug him. Then the crimson-haired girl could not hold herself.

“I am Milica, Fratello,” she said. Her sob grew louder. “I am not her descendant. I am your sister, Kaffel.”

“Milica!?” Kaffel tried to stand up, but he lost his strength. “Milica! I—how—my name—”

“Yes, your name. Kaffel,” Milica said, finally hugging him. “Welcome back, Kaffel.”

“Did I… die?” He frantically searched for clues. He had had enough of dreams. If this was an afterlife, he would not like to work for eternity. He turned to the tall physician. “Physician. Tell me the truth. I died, right?”

“Yes.” The physician clearly held back his tears. “Yes, Mentor. In a sense, you did die.”

“Mentor… Fritz!?” Kaffel coughed. “You—you look like—my age—”

Fritz laughed. “Let’s not bother you with math. It’s been one and a half years since Anachronicosis ended.”

“...how?”

“You are a jellyfish,” the short-haired lady said. “Apparently, your species reverts to a polyp when you die. We found the tiny you beneath your robe. Then we raised you.”

“Savina!?” Kaffel said.

“In the flesh, Kaffel,” she said, smiling. “Though your flesh does not look like much. Be patient, all right?”

“Patient…” Kaffel huffed. “The millennium?”

“The square-cube law,” Fritz said. “Just like the ant you used before. Along with the reverse time dilation from the Demon’s Lair. Your small size processed the time debt quicker. Nivena’s electricity stimulated your neurons to perceive time more quickly, as well. The trickiest part is your body, as you can see… we need to work it out.”

“I need to work out,” Kaffel concluded. “Then, is it over? I can be with you again?”

“Of course!” Milica hugged him. “You fulfilled your promise by dying. Being an idiot is really a symptom.”

Kaffel laughed merrily. He returned Milica’s embrace. Fritz and Savina joined them.

“Well, we’ll talk more, Mentor, but for now, rest.” Fritz waved his scroll. “I need to go to the next patient.”

“Name, age, and symptoms?” Kaffel blurted, surprising Fritz. They all laughed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Rest,” Milica ordered. “A physician really makes the worst patient. One person suffering, and you jump.”

Kaffel smiled apologetically.

“I have given up fixing this,” he admitted. “This is my calling as a physician. I can’t cure this.”