Meanwhile, in Mirabel's room...
Different servants were going in and out, their arms filled with napkins and bowls of warm water. The scent of herbs saturated the air, mingling with the loud wails of pain and heartbreak that echoed from within.
Mirabel lay on the bed, her bare buttocks exposed to allow treatment, her body trembling as she cried out. Her face was buried in the pillow, and the only comfort she had was the warm grasp of her mother, who sat beside her, weeping profusely as she held onto her daughter's hand.
A female doctor sat on a low stool near the bed, focused on gently applying thick green herbs to the wounded flesh. Her fingers moved with care, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her fear.
