Reinhard moved toward her immediately.
"Emily?"
She couldn’t answer. Her entire body trembled as she pressed one hand against her chest, fingers tightening against the fabric of her clothes. Her breathing came in short, uneven breaths, and the color slowly drained from her face.
"Something’s wrong."
He reached her side. "What do you feel?"
She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. "I don’t know. It’s..." She stopped as another pulse moved through her chest, eyes widening. "It’s moving."
His heart lurched. The medicine had worked. Something was happening. Something inside her shattered Gnosis was actually responding. She arched forward with a sharp gasp, hand gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Emily!"
She tried to breathe through it, but another wave of pain followed almost immediately. He crouched beside her, completely focused on her face. "Look at me. Can you hear me?"
She nodded weakly, another tremor running through her.
"It hurts."
Those two words were enough to change his expression entirely. He’d known the treatment would be painful. The researcher had warned him, and Reinhard had accepted the one-percent survival rate before ever bringing the medicine home. But knowing something was different from watching Emily suffer through it.
He clenched his fists. "Is there anything I can do?"
She shook her head, struggling to catch her breath. "I don’t know."
He stared at her for a moment, then remembered the reward he’d received only minutes earlier. Link Chain. An ability that had seemed strangely unrelated to Emily’s recovery when he first got it.
He took a breath. "Please work."
He activated the skill.
Something invisible connected them. Her presence suddenly became clearer to him, as though part of her condition had crossed the distance between them and entered his own awareness. He could feel her pain. Not perfectly. But enough to understand just how much she was suffering.
Then the system appeared.
[Link Established.]
[Available Functions:]
[Reflect Damage → Target]
[Transfer Damage → User]
He looked at the second option without hesitation. "Give it to me."
[Transfer Damage → User.]
[Confirmed.]
The connection tightened. Pain slammed into his chest, and his breath disappeared. He staggered backward, one hand catching the edge of the counter as his body struggled to process what had just happened. It wasn’t a dull ache. It was sharp, deep, and overwhelming, as though something inside him was being torn apart and forced back together.
He gritted his teeth. Across from him, Emily’s shoulders relaxed. The tension in her face eased. Her breathing steadied.
He noticed the difference immediately. She was hurting less. He was hurting more.
A quiet smile crossed his face despite the pain. "Good."
He looked at the notification. Thirty percent wasn’t enough. Emily was still trembling.
"Yes."
[30/100 → 50/100]
Another wave of pain moved through him, heavier this time. He bent slightly at the waist, gripping the counter until the worst of it passed. Across from him, her breathing grew calmer. She closed her eyes for a moment. "It’s getting better," she whispered.
He managed a strained smile. "Good. I’m glad."
The next prompt appeared before the pain had fully faded.
[Increase Transfer?]
He looked at her. Her breathing had steadied, but the tension hadn’t disappeared completely. "Yes."
[50/100 → 70/100]
The next wave nearly brought him to his knees. He caught himself against the wall and stayed there several seconds, breathing slowly through it, sweat already running down his face.
Emily opened her eyes. "I can feel something..."
He looked up. There was wonder in her voice.
"Then keep going," he said.
She nodded, too focused on the strange sensation inside her to notice how pale he’d become.
Another notification appeared.
[Increase Transfer?]
He looked at her. Her breathing was steadier now, the trembling in her hands almost gone. He knew what that meant. The pain was leaving her. It was going into him.
He clenched his jaw. "Not enough."
[YES.]
[70/100 → 85/100]
The next wave tore through him. His vision blurred, and he caught himself against the wall, breathing ragged, sweat running down his face.
Emily shifted in her chair. "Reinhard?"
He straightened immediately. "I’m fine."
She hesitated, but another pulse moved through her chest and pulled her attention back to herself. He watched her carefully. She was getting closer. So was he.
Another notification appeared.
[Increase Transfer?]
He stared at the prompt. 85/100. His entire body was already telling him to stop. He could stop. Eighty-five percent was already enough to make the pain manageable for her. Maybe he should leave it there.
Then her fingers tightened around her chest, and he looked at her face. She was still suffering.
He didn’t hesitate again. "Yes."
[85/100 → 100/100]
The connection surged. The full force of the treatment slammed into him at once. His body seized. For several seconds he couldn’t breathe, pain spreading through him so violently the kitchen seemed to disappear around him.
His knees gave out. He caught himself against the counter, gripping it so tightly his fingers began to ache. A groan escaped his throat before he bit down on the towel he’d grabbed earlier when he brought the medicine, forcing the sound back.
He could endure this. He had to. Because across from him, Emily’s trembling was finally beginning to stop.
He closed his eyes and stayed there, taking everything the connection could carry.
...
For Emily, something had changed.
She’d been bracing for another wave of pain, but instead a faint warmth spread through her chest. At first she wasn’t sure what she was feeling, unfamiliar enough that she simply sat there, breathing slowly as it moved deeper into her body.
Then it traveled outward, following a path she remembered from years ago.
Her eyes widened. She knew this feeling.
Mana.
Her mana.
She remembered the sensation of power answering her will, the confidence of knowing her body would respond whenever she reached for it, memories that had gradually become something distant, almost like a part of someone else’s life. She had eventually accepted that they were all she had left.
But the warmth inside her was becoming clearer.
Tears filled her eyes before she even realized they were there. She slowly raised one hand.
"Please..."
The word slipped from her lips as she waited. Nothing happened at first. Then a tiny spark appeared above her palm.
She stopped breathing. The light flickered once before settling into a faint glow, and she stared at it, unable to look away.
"Mana..." Her voice trembled. "I can feel mana."
A small laugh escaped her through the tears. She raised her hand a little higher, watching the light move gently above her palm, and couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in years, something inside her no longer felt completely lost.
And the first person she wanted to show was Reinhard.
She turned toward him, face brightening. "Reinhard, look. I can..."
The words stopped.
The space behind her was empty.
She slowly turned her wheelchair. He was lying on the floor beside the counter, the towel fallen from his hand, blood staining the corner of his mouth, another thin line running beneath his nose.
He wasn’t moving.
She stared at him. For several seconds her mind refused to understand what she was seeing. "...Reinhard?"
No response.
"Reinhard?"
Still nothing.
The tiny spark of mana above her palm flickered once, then disappeared.
Her hands tightened around the controls. She pushed forward, the wheelchair moving faster than she expected, carrying her toward the man who had spent everything he had trying to give her another chance.
"Reinhard!"
He didn’t move.