POV Ruqayyah
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Ruqayyah's chamber, casting warm reflections across the marble floor. Outside, the songs of birds mingled with the rich aroma of spices drifting from the palace kitchens, creating a serene morning.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in her mind.
[Ding! Greetings, Host. You have visited the Bimaristan. Reward: Anti-Misfortune Power has been delivered to your system storage. You may retrieve it at any time.]
Ruqayyah blinked, sitting up slowly on her bed, eyes fixed on the floating system screen. "Okay…" she murmured softly, adjusting to the peculiar reality of this world that never ceased to surprise her.
A moment later, the system spoke again, more insistently:
[Ding! Host. A new mission is available. Mission: Assist in caring for patients at the Bimaristan. Reward: Secret.]
Ruqayyah exhaled deeply. "Hm… very well," she muttered. "But… it feels as if I'm doing good only for the reward. That's vanity, isn't it? I will do it, but my intention is genuinely to help."
[As you wish, Host.]
After a brief preparation, Ruqayyah called for Layla. The sun had risen higher, and the clear blue sky welcomed them as their litter moved toward the grand gates of the Bimaristan. The rhythm of their footsteps blended with the morning bustle: patients being led in, tabibs and saydalani arranging herbs and treatment rooms, and attendants carrying warm water and bedding for the ailing.
Inside, a senior saydalani, Umm al-Hassan, greeted them. "Princess Aisha... Princess Layla. We are grateful for your visit. Your presence greatly aids the smooth running of our work."
Ruqayyah offered a faint smile. "No thanks needed. We are here to help. May we assist with the medicinal preparations?"
Layla frowned. "Since when do you care about medicine, Aisha?"
Ruqayyah drew a steady breath. "Come now… I'm not as incapable as you think."
Umm al-Hassan smiled faintly. "Very well. I shall introduce you to some commonly used remedies here." She gestured to the long shelves lined with bottles and dried roots. "Observe carefully. Murr for fevers and digestive ailments, habba al-sawda for strengthening the lungs, balṭāṭ for wounds, qust al-Hindi for inflammation, and rūz bi-l-miyah for soothing the stomach. Precision is vital; even the smallest error can prove fatal."
Ruqayyah nodded, inspecting each label. Layla grabbed a cloth and dusted the shelves, muttering, "Aisha… I'm not some servant. I'm the governor's daughter."
Ruqayyah chuckled, patting her shoulder. "They say extra hands are more useful than a pretty face, don't they?"
They worked carefully—not as tabibs, but as the extra hands the hospital required. Ruqayyah glanced at the recipe list, ensuring they understood each instruction.
"Good. You learn quickly," Umm al-Hassan said with a faint smile. "If you continue like this, many patients will benefit. Care and attention matter as much as the medicine itself."
Later, Ruqayyah and Layla rested on chairs beside a long table, drawing in deep breaths. Several plates of food had arrived from their families—iftar dishes from Ruqayyah's home with the Wazir and from Layla's governor household—arranged neatly alongside dishes prepared by the Bimaristan staff. The scent of spices filled the hall, tempting even the most patient stomachs.
In the kitchen, Lady Zafira prowled silently, her eyes scanning every dish. Yesterday, all eyes had been on Ruqayyah, leaving her overlooked. Now, with a subtle, cunning smile, she added poison to a few plates—especially those from Ruqayyah's and Layla's family contributions—moving with the grace of someone above suspicion.
As the time to break the fast drew near, the dishes were carried to the table. Patients and staff took their seats, unaware of the hidden danger. Ruqayyah and Layla stood at the far end, ready to assist.
Suddenly, the ring on Ruqayyah's finger pulsed and glowed softly. A system screen materialized before her eyes, its voice urgent:
"Host! Danger detected! Your iftar is poisoned. Stop immediately before anyone is harmed!"
Her heart leapt. Instinct took over. She rose, scanning the hall, voice firm yet panicked:
"Do not touch the food! Stop immediately!"
A stir ran through the hall. Spoons froze mid-air, eyes darting between the two girls.
Even Layla, mid-prayer, frowned. "Aisha! We are starving! Must you make such a fuss?"
Ruqayyah caught her hand before it reached her plate. Layla's glare was sharp. "Heh… stubborn as always, aren't you?"
Murmurs rippled among the staff. "Why is the Wazir's daughter giving orders?" "Is she truly concerned, or seeking attention?" Some cast wary glances at Ruqayyah, uncertain whether to obey.
Zafira stepped forward, her voice soft and silken, carrying an edge of authority. "Dear colleagues," she said, tilting her head as if pondering, "see how easily alarm spreads? Perhaps the Wazir's daughter fears too much. Or… perhaps she wishes to appear important in front of us all?"
Her gaze swept the room, eyes sharp, lips curved with false concern. "Surely you would not risk angering those who serve you faithfully… yet here she halts everyone's iftar over a mere suspicion. Can we trust such judgment?"
A few staff exchanged uneasy glances. The seed of doubt had been planted. Whispers ran like wildfire: "Is she exaggerating?" "Could there be truth in what Zafira suggests?"
Umm al-Hassan's brow furrowed, her instincts battling the uncertainty. "Princess Aisha… are you certain? How can you know?"
"I… cannot explain fully," Ruqayyah replied, meeting her gaze steadily, "Trust me; this is serious. We must inspect the food before anyone eats."
Zafira smiled, sweet yet razor-sharp. "Observe, then," she murmured, eyes flicking between staff and the girls. "Even those we admire can err. Are we to serve caution… or obedience to pride?"
Time pressed. Ruqayyah turned to Layla. "Help me move all the dishes to safety. Do not let anyone take any food!"
Layla hesitated, but Ruqayyah's resolute eyes convinced her. She lowered her spoon, rising to assist.
Staff still shifted uneasily; some wanted to speak, others stayed silent, caught between respect for Ruqayyah and Zafira's insinuations. The hall held its breath.
Together, Ruqayyah and Layla marked safe plates and set aside the suspicious ones. The once-inviting aroma of the iftar now carried a weight of fear. The lively hall had fallen silent, every gaze fixed, every breath held, waiting for what would unfold next.