Ruqayyah and Layla worked swiftly, inspecting each plate with the same meticulous care they had used when arranging medicinal herbs. They marked the safe dishes and set aside those that were suspicious. The fragrant aroma of spices, once enticing, now carried a tense edge, and the hall was thick with apprehension.
From the corner, Zafira watched, her eyes glinting with thinly veiled frustration as her scheme unraveled. The staff, who had wavered under her earlier whispers, finally stepped back, allowing Ruqayyah and Layla to take control.
After several minutes of careful work, all the poisoned food had been secured, and the safe dishes returned to the table. Ruqayyah patted Layla on the shoulder, helping her catch her breath.
"All safe now," Ruqayyah announced firmly, her gaze sweeping over the staff and patients. "We can break our fast without any risk."
Gradually, relief softened the tense atmosphere. The hall's warmth returned, though Zafira's faint, knowing smile hinted that her game was far from over.
Ruqayyah and Layla drew long, steadying breaths, finally settling to eat with the reassurance that at last, they were safe.
That evening, after the tense iftar, Ruqayyah and Layla were escorted to their chambers within the Bimaristan, under the watchful eyes of the guards. The hallways had grown quiet, the soft echoes of footsteps the only reminder of the patrols winding their rounds.
Seeking a brief reprieve, they wandered down a long corridor, savoring the cool, gentle night air. The flickering oil lamps cast delicate shadows across the polished marble floors, lending the passage a calm, almost magical quality.
Suddenly, they nearly collided with a young man–Faris Ibn Yahya. Both parties staggered back a few steps, eyes meeting in surprise. Ruqayyah and Layla were immediately on guard.
"What brings the Wazir's daughter and the Governor's daughter here?" His voice was low, husky, yet carried a subtle authority that made them pause.
Ruqayyah hesitated, measuring him carefully, while Layla stepped forward, hands on her hips. "And you? What business do you have here?" she asked, a blend of challenge and curiosity in her tone.
"I am assigned to maintain the security of the Bimaristan," Faris replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Fortune—or perhaps mischief—has brought me across your path."
"Oh…" Layla's gaze lingered on him, cautious yet intrigued, while Ruqayyah lowered her eyes briefly, assessing the situation. The encounter, seemingly accidental, carried a quiet weight; it felt as though the night had opened a door to something unexpected.
Faris gaze flicked from one face to the other, sharp and assessing, as if weighing their intentions. "You walk these corridors with remarkable ease," he said, his voice low, almost teasing. "I did not expect guests of such standing to wander freely at this hour."
Layla straightened, with a sharp glance. "We are guests of the Bimaristan," she replied firmly, her tone carrying quiet authority. "We are allowed to stay here, if you must know. That is none of your concern."
Faris tilted his head, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his lips, his eyes briefly resting on Ruqayyah before returning to Layla. "I assure you, I am concerned only for your safety," he said softly, yet the brief spark in his gaze toward Ruqayyah suggested amusement far warmer than mere professionalism. "These corridors… they can be unpredictable at night."
Ruqayyah lowered her eyes for a moment, quiet as ever, but her gaze did not waver from him. She measured his tone, his stance, the slight weight in his words. There was no discomfort in the encounter—only a calm, curious attentiveness beneath her still exterior. "And yet," she said, her voice low but precise, "you seem unsurprised to find us here. A guard might not expect to encounter the daughters of Baghdad's noble houses wandering these halls after dark."
Faris chuckled softly, a low, controlled sound, yet his eyes remained warm as they met hers. "Sometimes the unexpected keeps one alert," he said, his voice light, almost playful, but not in jest.
Layla stepped forward, attempting to ease the tension. "Very well. If your duty is to patrol, perhaps we should not linger here long."
Faris inclined his head, eyes flicking back to Ruqayyah with a quiet intensity, as if conveying unspoken words. "Perhaps," he replied, the faint smile still resting at his lips, leaving Ruqayyah with a strange, lingering sense—an odd mixture of curiosity and calm that seemed to settle comfortably in the silence of the night.
Faris turned to leave, his steps nearly silent on the polished marble as his figure receded down the corridor. Layla was about to follow, but Ruqayyah's gaze lingered—just a moment too long.
Something was wrong.
Faint, almost imperceptible. His shoulders were unnaturally stiff, each step seemingly demanding more effort than he let show. To anyone else, it might have passed unnoticed. But Ruqayyah saw it.
Her brows drew together. She sensed the tension, the subtle struggle beneath his composure. Pain.
Her body moved before her mind could protest.
"Wait—!"
Her sandals whispered against the floor as she hurried after him. Layla started, eyes widening.
"Ruqayyah—what are you doing?"
Faris halted, glancing back. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
"Miss?"
From this close, Ruqayyah took in every detail: his jaw set tight against the ache, hands pressed at his sides as if restraining the instinct to wince.
"You are hurt," she said softly. Her tone left no room for denial.
Faris stiffened.
"It is nothing," he said.
"That is what people always say," Ruqayyah murmured, casting her gaze down for a moment to the uneven drape of his cloak. "And almost always… it is not true."
Layla stepped forward, pale, whispering with concern,
"Aisha, this… this is highly improper—"
Ruqayyah turned to her, gentle yet firm.
"Layla… he is injured."
Faris hesitated. For a heartbeat, pride and caution warred within him. His breath caught, then slowly released.
"A minor wound… from the previous patrol. It concerns you not."
"It still concerns me if you collapse while on duty," Ruqayyah replied. "Have the physicians examined you tonight?"
He stopped, replying without looking back.
"Not yet. My patrol ended before dawn. The tabib is otherwise engaged."
Ruqayyah stepped closer, her pace calm, voice steady.
"Then allow me a brief look—just to ensure the injury does not worsen before you see the tabib."
Faris blinked, surprised.
"You… understand medicine?"
Ruqayyah hesitated for a fraction of a moment.
"A little," she answered honestly.
He studied her, weighing impropriety and recklessness, and found neither—only composure, respect, measured distance, and attentiveness without excess.
At last, he nodded.
"Very well. But only briefly."
They moved to the side of the corridor, the oil lamps casting a soft glow, shadows dancing along the walls. Layla stood vigil, hands folded, eyes skimming the length of the passage.
Faris loosened the edge of his cloak just enough, revealing the darkened stain of dried blood beneath. Ruqayyah drew a quiet breath, her heart tightening.
"This has not been properly cleaned," she murmured. Carefully, she retrieved a small pouch from her belt, drawing forth a cloth and a tiny vial of clear liquid.
Layla blinked in astonishment.
"You brought that?"
Ruqayyah did not raise her eyes.
"For contingencies," she said.
She dampened the cloth and handed it to Faris.
"Press here. Do not resist."
He complied, expression unreadable. Their eyes met, the corridor itself seeming to hold its breath.
Layla cleared her throat.
"Ehem… perhaps now is when we remember decorum."
Ruqayyah stepped back, regaining her poise, the calm of command like a drawn curtain.
"You must have your wound tended properly," she said formally. "By the tabib. Tonight."
Faris inclined his head in respect, his gaze harboring something difficult to discern.
"I shall."
As he moved on, his steps were steadier, surer. Ruqayyah watched his retreating back, her heartbeat still uneven, a quiet tension lingering.
Layla leaned close, whispering sharply,
"You just chased a man down a corridor."
Ruqayyah smiled faintly.
"I chased his wound."
Layla stared for a long moment, then exhaled.
"Allah help me… you truly are different."
Ruqayyah suppressed a smile, eyes fixed on the corridor where Faris had vanished.
System Notification :
[Ding! Congratulations, Host!
Mission: Assisting a patient in the bimaristan—completed.
Reward: 1 door unlocked.
Remaining: 1 door.]
[Ding! Bonus Reward: +70 Faris Affinity
Name: Faris ibn Yahya | Age: 18 | Appearance: Handsome | Affinity: Neutral → +70
Reward: Potion for treating severe wounds delivered to your backpack. Can be retrieved anytime.]
Ruqayyah smiled with relief. Together with Layla, she returned to their chamber, footsteps light but hearts still racing, brimming with the lingering tension that had not yet fully eased.