After Walter left, the clinic fell silent again.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, staring at the dim ceiling light, feeling utterly hollow.
He took a sip of coffee and his stomach instantly churned.
Outside, the dusk sky, washed by rain, gleamed as streetlights flickered on one by one.
A sudden dizziness hit him; he massaged his temples and gave a wry smile—this was his first time casting "Holy Word: Atonement." He vaguely remembered the spell cost a lot of "mana," but hadn't expected it to be this extreme. The feeling of being wrung dry in an instant was like his soul had been ripped out, leaving only an empty shell breathing on autopilot.
He pushed himself up and sighed. Though it wasn't closing time yet, he decided to shut up shop early.
"Forget it," he muttered to himself. "To Williamsburg Restaurant—I kind of miss Max's small cakes."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Williamsburg Restaurant was as lively as ever: the sizzle of frying, bursts of laughter, and Oleg's cheeky voice.
Caroline was chattering at Max: "Max, I just chatted with the two smart guys at table two—I know they're smart because they're the only ones who ordered the 'Caramel Cabano' and pronounced it right; everyone else says 'Stir-twist Card Bash'!"
They want to meet the chef who bakes the small cakes. I told them you'd be right over."
"Not going! They're no good." Max wiped sugar frosting off her hands, looking untouchable. "They're fashion-clad vampire locusts, here to plunder and destroy everything I care about!"
"Caroline said, "That's exactly how I felt when the Hilton sisters crashed my twenty-first birthday."
Just then the customers at table two waved. "Did you make this small cake?"
Max put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, got a problem? Spit it out, I'm busy."
The man smiled. "We just wanted to say—these cakes taste top-notch!"
"I don't know who you are or where you're from, but your skill is amazing!"
Max's expression flipped instantly, sweet as sugar: "Oh, welcome to the neighborhood—knew I'd love you guys."
Back in the kitchen area, Caroline asked, "So what do those fashion locusts want?"
"Caroline, don't judge by appearances!" Max glared. "Sure, they wear designer threads, but they've got taste. They praised my cakes as 'top-tier'!"
Caroline rolled her eyes. "See? Lots of people besides me love them. Can you believe your small cakes are actually good now?"
Max preened. "Not just good—'top-tier'!"
Oleg stuck his head out. "Order up! Max!"
"Oleg, kindly address me as—'Top-Tier Small-Cake Duchess'."
Oleg narrowed his eyes. "Then kindly address me as—'Baron of Unlimited Crotch-Joy'."
"I think 'Self-Entertaining Bottomless Manservant' suits you better." Max shot back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Ethan walked into Williamsburg Restaurant, Max was zoning out in the kitchen while Caroline bustled about.
Caroline waved a hand in front of Max's eyes. "Max, quit day-dreaming about men! Your big doctor will show eventually."
Max: "In my 'experience,' men always come too early—except Ethan; he won't be this early."
"Please, you already rated his bedroom skills as so-so."
"By 'so-so' I mainly meant he's lazy."
Caroline pouted and went to deliver an order, then spotted Ethan and darted back to the kitchen.
Caroline: "Stop spacing out! He's here—outside right now."
Max stepped out of the kitchen and froze.
"Dear God, Doctor, did you crawl out of a grave or get milked dry in some middle-aged yoga class?"
Ethan cracked a grin. "Takes at least four Maxes to drain me—one warrior Max, one mage Max, and the other two better be rogue Max and hunter Max."
"What nonsense are you spouting?!" She frowned and pushed him into a chair. "Stay put; I'll get you something to eat."
Caroline came over, exchanged small talk with Ethan, then dashed into the kitchen and said seriously, "Max, take him back to your apartment."
"What?" Max blinked. "It's only seven; we're in the thick of it."
"Doesn't matter." Caroline was earnest. "He's in a bad way—looks mentally shaken. I doubt he can walk out of here on his own."
She added, "Relax, I can handle the rush alone."
Max set a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of frosted small cakes in front of him.
"Here, have something sweet—it'll cheer you up and perk your spirits."
"Thanks, Max, you're the best! No forming a party without you from now on."
He spoke vacantly, eyes fixed on the steaming chocolate. "This isn't red, isn't blue—you handed me a bottle of… Big Black!!"
"What on earth happened to you? Run into a vampire? Aliens?" Max raised an eyebrow.
Ethan chuckled: "Picture a mage who pulled aggro, stacked with debuffs and focused fire—and I kept him alive!"
"???" She asked no more, simply moved behind him and kneaded his shoulders gently.
"Your shoulders are like iron blocks—why's a doctor so tense?"
He didn't answer, only closed his eyes.
That warmth and steady rhythm pulled him briefly out of his "soul-hollow" state.
"Crap," Max muttered. "Feels like you're really gonna die right here in the diner."
"Don't worry," he murmured. "When a priest dies he becomes an angel big-sis."
"Angel my butt—big-sis my foot! You're a doctor, not a priest. Hopeless—you're delirious." She swatted him. "Come to my apartment and sleep. Looking at you, I wanna call 911."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max's tiny apartment was much quieter than the restaurant.
Ethan lay on her super-comfy bed, regaining a sliver of sanity.
He turned on his side; Max had meant to massage his shoulders again, but he simply slumped against her, forehead lightly touching her chest.
That small turn of his head made her start—yet she didn't push him away, only instinctively ran her fingers through his hair.
She could feel his warm breath.
Ethan lay quietly, listening to her heartbeat.
"I don't know what happened to you," she whispered. "But if you die, I'll turn your clinic into a bakery."
"Then save me a corner," he murmured. "Bury me where you hang out most, and wait for me to respawn."
Max gave a soft laugh and said nothing more.
Her hand kept stroking his hair, and Ethan slowly drifted off to sleep.
---
Daylight flooded the window. When Ethan woke, Max was already gone.
He walked out; the apartment held only him and a few small cakes on the table—Max's breakfast gift.
He raised a hand; a faint glimmer flashed in his palm then quickly died.
Sensing his condition and recalling yesterday at the restaurant, Ethan couldn't help face-palming: "This Holy Light is toxic!"