Eleanor arrives in the lower district of Ivory City. The air is filled with the stench of sewer water and rotten cabbage, and a drunkard is passed out on the sidewalk. The cart driver help’s Eleanor and her wheelchair down and drives away. She looks around with an evil grin.

“Ah, the smell of desperation… How wonderful. Hehehe!”

Eleanor quickly changes her face to a kindly old woman, takes out packages of poisonous cookies, and puts up the sign saying, “Free Sweets!”

“Now, all I have to do is wait.”

The sun slowly rises and people wake up to face a new day. Pedestrians walk by Eleanor and a few of them fall for her trap. They unwittingly take the cookies and some even give the crippled girl a few coins.

Dude, there’s you!

W-wait, that grandma was actually the devil!? I was only joking before! Damn you, devil! I spent two days in the shitter because of you!

Be honest, how bad was it?

Not hospital bad, but bad, bad.

Damn… Does it taste good though?

Probably, I ate the whole bag and went back for seconds. Look.

No wonder you were sick for two days, you gluttonous pig.

Shut up.

Eleanor is able to clear out her stock in half an hour. She wheels herself away and changes back to Eleanor before her “customers” come back, looking for trouble. She hums in a chipper mood as she feels hatred flowing in.

“Ah, what a wonderful morning it is. Not a cloud in the sky. Not a happy face in sight. All this work done, and just in time for breakfast. Taxi! Oh, Taxi!”

Eleanor waves for a carriage, but none stops for her. She keeps trying until her voice turns horse and the sunlight burns her skin.

“Dammit. Cough! Cough! Do I look that poor?”

Eleanor makes her way forward, trying to find a way out of the slums. She moves to an alley to hide from the burning sun. That’s where she runs into a group of hooligans.

“Lookie here, tits on wheels!”

“She’s a looker, alright.”

“Hey girl, where cha going? Want me to help cart you along, beautiful?”

Eleanor narrows her eyes at the three teenagers surrounding her and grins.

“Why, yes, thank you. My arms are getting tired.”

The men grab her wheelchair and move her to a secluded area.

“Are you sure I can grab a ride home around here?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll get a ride alright.”

“Three rides even! Hahaha!”

“That’s… good to hear.”

Eleanor eyes the men hungrily as her teeth turn to fangs and her nails slowly grow out.

What’s this, she’s a cannibal now?

“Hungrily” as in anticipatingly. Y’know? Since she can’t kill unless threatened first.

Then just use that word. Stop trying to be a poet and say things normally.

…Fine… The boys want to assault Eleanor, not knowing that she’s a literal monster who’s looking for an excuse to slice people to mince meat. They surround her and her eyes shine red. But before there’s a blood bath, a third party shows up.

“Hey! What the hell are you three bozos up to now?!”

A teenager dressed in gray work clothes appears. The three hooligans look at him in anger.

“Screw off, sewer rat! This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t. You’re standing on my workplace.”

The boy in gray points at a sewer lid under the hooligan’s feet.

“I’m warning ya, scram, or I’ll gut ya like a fish!”

One of the teenagers takes out a knife.

Sure, I’ll leave. But what about the little lady there? Do you want to keep these men company, miss? Or do you need to go somewhere?”

“I… These gentlemen are helping me find a carriage ride home. Isn’t that right?”

“Ya got that right, sweetheart. See, sewer rat? The girl’s with us! Now scurry along, rat!”

The boy looks at Eleanor then at the hooligans and scratches the back of his neck.

“Miss, if I understand correctly, you want to hitch a ride home?”

“...Yes?”

“And these bozos lead you to this dead-end alley?”

“...Perhaps?”

“Sigh… That’s all I needed to hear.”

The boy pulls up his sleeves and cracks his knuckles. The hooligans spit and pull out their weapons.

“Miss, would you mind giving us some room?”

“Ah… yes…”

Eleanor moves to a safe distance and watches the three on one fight.

Oh, boy, we got ourselves a street fight.

That boy looks like he knows a few things about boxing. Very few, but still…

Go on, kid! Show ’em what you’ve got! That’s it! Left jab! Right hook! Straight punch! Aim for the chin! Aim for the chin!

Fuck the chin, kick their shin bone, kid! Use your knees and elbows to strike!

The boy punches and kicks and swings wildly, but one man manages to lock him from behind, and the hooligan with the knife stabs his right arm!

The boy screams and falls.

“Shit, dude, you stabbed him!”

“He’s bleeding out!”

“T-that’s what ya get, asshole! That’s what ya get!”

“C’mon let’s dodge!”

Fearing repercussions, the three run away, leaving the boy on the pavement with a knife sticking out of his arm. Eleanor looks at him bleeding and clicks her tongue.

“Shit… I fucking hate good Samaritans,” she mutters to herself.

She rushes to the boy’s side. The boy on the ground looks up at her and forces a smile.

“Ugh! Looks like… you’re okay… Next time… don’t go anywhere with… strangers…”

“Get a hold of yourself, I’ll go find a doctor.”

“No… no doctors… no money…”

“Then I’ll find a priest!”

“Huh, good luck… finding one in… this hell hole…”

The teenager is losing blood fast and Eleanor must make a decision.

“Sigh… Me and my rules.”

She forces herself to stand up and limp her way to the boy.

“I’m not gonna lie, this is going to hurt.”

“What… is…? Gaaarrr!”

Eleanor pulls out the knife and quickly covers his wound. She splits out a part of herself and turns it into a needle and thread, and stitches up his wound.

“Hold still… and… done! There, this is a patch job, you need disinfectant, medicine… No. Healing spells! Healing spells… healing spells…”

The boy’s face is pale. He lost too much blood. The knife cut a major artery and he’s going into shock!

“Damn it! Can you hear me, kid?!”

“I… hear you… Don’t… call me kid… The name’s… Carter…”

“Okay, Carter, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Your cut is bad, really bad. But I’m a priestess so I can heal you—if you’re willing to reach into me.”

“…What?!…”

“I mean, connecting your mana with mine! Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“…No…”

The boy’s eyes are losing focus. He’s about to pass out. Eleanor bites her lips and tries to recall the method she used to heal the soldier’s leg.

“…Okay. Okay, I need you to stay with me, talk to me. I want you to trust that I can heal you.”

“…Priestess… Heal…”

“Yes, yes, I can save your life! All you have to do is believe!”

Eleanor grabs his hand and looks into his eyes.

“I can save you.”

“…You can… save…”

“Listen to my voice. Imagine I’m a well and you’re a dehydrated man. Reach into me. Trust in me, Carter. Trust that I can save you.”

Eleanor places the boy’s head on her lap and strokes his hair. She begins to hum him a song.

“…mother…”

“Shh… It’s okay, Carter. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here now.

“…okay…”

At that moment, Eleanor senses a sliver of mana reaching into her. She quickly grabs it, strengthens the connection, and sends her mana to heal the boy’s body.

Beats of sweat roll down her face as minutes go by. The boy’s face relax. His wound is stabilized. After twenty minutes, Eleanor stops. She gasps for air as blood drips from her nostril.

The boy opens his eyes. He reaches for his stitches as if not believing. Then he sees Eleanor’s exhausted state and quickly gets up.

“Hey, are you alright?!”

The boy helps Eleanor onto her wheelchair and rushes her out to the busy streets.

“Help! She needs a doctor! Help!”

“…So now he’s willing to call a doctor… cheeky brat…”