Ed-Bear picked up a local map from the front desk.
“Dr. Clark’s clinic… the tavern for food… the general store…”
After locating the key landmarks, he folded the map away. It turned to Helen and asked whether she wanted to bathe first or see the doctor. Helen took one look at her filth-caked reflection and insisted on the bath.
Though called a villa, the residence was more akin to a Japanese-style detached house—compact, efficient, and well-structured. They reached the gate, and Ed-Bear produced the key to let them in.
The place had clearly been maintained; there was no dust or cobwebs, the walls were pristine, and the wood showed no signs of rot. The windows were a bit smudged, however, and the courtyard was carpeted with fallen leaves.
Ed-Bear lit a candle on the stand in the foyer. Holding it aloft, it followed the wooden corridor through the Main Workshop and out into the backyard.
Two small outbuildings stood side-by-side: a bathroom and a kitchen. The setup was simple—boil water on the kitchen stove and channel it into the bathroom next door for a hot soak. A hand pump stood near the kitchen to draw fresh groundwater.
A pebble-lined path ran between the main house and the outbuildings, leading toward a long side yard. A pond and a well sat nestled there, beside a row of starfruit trees planted against the wall. The trees were heavy with fruit, their five-angled shapes shimmering with a faint silvery light.
“I’m going out to buy some daily necessities,” Ed-Bear told her.
Helen glanced at the dark, hollow interior of the house and shook her head in a panic. She gripped its sleeve tight, fear written across her face.
Left with no choice, Ed-Bear took her along to the general store. They stocked up on bath salts, soap, lamp oil, matches, white candles, and plant-fiber loofahs. Then, they stopped by a clothier to buy the little girl a variety of outfits, bath towels, and hand towels.
Though the quality of these goods was far below what she once knew, Helen didn’t care. Having crossed the chasm between absolute despair and new hope, she had no other desires. She only wanted to be near Ed-Bear, seeking an endless sense of security.
–
The water heater was a cleverly designed stainless steel box. Ed-Bear ladled a scoop of water into the pump to prime it, then pumped until a clear stream flowed into the heater. It added firewood to the grate, adjusted the temperature, and used an air valve to build pressure, sending hot water through the pipes into the next room.
Helen peeled off her nightgown. The fabric had been glued to her skin by blood and mud; it came away with a sharp rip. She frowned and folded the ruined garment neatly, though she wasn’t sure what use there was in folding dirty clothes.
She turned on the overhead rose-gold showerhead. Warm water cascaded over her head and shoulders, dissolving the grime into a dark slurry that swirled down the drain. She scrubbed herself with soap, lathered her hair with shampoo, and rinsed clean.
Finally, she climbed the wooden steps into the soaking tub. She tested the water with a toe—it was a bit hot, but bearable. She slid into the water like a fish. The buoyancy held her up, making her feel weightless as the steam turned her cheeks a bright crimson.
It was bliss.
The exhaustion of their journey seemed to bleed out of her pores. Though the scratches on her skin stung, the joy of drifting in clean water eclipsed the pain.
Half an hour later, a damp-haired girl emerged from the bathroom smelling of lavender bath salts. Helen had changed into a linen dress; it felt a bit coarse compared to her old silks, but she loved it nonetheless. Her small wooden clogs went clack-clack on the floor, a crisp, pleasant sound that she also found delightful.
Ed-Bear then led her to the clinic.
It was a modest establishment. The first floor consisted of two rooms separated by a curtained doorway, with a staircase leading to the second floor.
Dr. Clark descended the stairs. He was a tall, imposing man who cut an intimidating figure in his leather-stitched plague mask and black rubber gloves. His gaze pierced through the flat glass lenses of his mask, landing squarely on Ed-Bear.
“Your case… is quite complex,” the doctor said, his voice muffled and deep. “How long have these symptoms persisted? What have you been in contact with?”
Ed-Bear gently pulled Helen to the front. “She’s the one who’s sick. A fever from the cold.”
The “plague doctor” froze, seemingly embarrassed. He turned toward the small nurse at the reception desk. “Nancy.”
The nurse had a round face, a practical short haircut, and square-framed glasses perched on her nose. She hurried over, brushing past the retreating doctor.
“Little girl, where does it hurt?” she asked, kneeling down.
Ed-Bear watched thoughtfully. Did the bird-beaked doctor only handle severe cases? Or was there simply no one else in the clinic and it felt awkward?
The nurse took Helen’s temperature, prepared a decoction and some chewable tablets, and skillfully wrapped the medicine in paper. She sealed the packets and handed them to Ed-Bear.
Once back at the house, Ed-Bear lit the candles, refilled the corridor lamps with oil, and began to clean. The entrance hallway split the Main Workshop in two, with four rooms in total. To the left were two bedrooms; to the right, a living room and a tea room. When the sliding doors of the bedrooms were pulled back, they revealed the quiet, moonlit courtyard.
The two sat on the terrace in silence until the decoction finished simmering on a small stone stove. Ed-Bear poured it into a cup and handed it to Helen.
After taking the medicine, Helen felt much better.
Ed-Bear stood up. “I’m going out for more supplies. Stay home. Don’t follow me this time; catching a draft on the road will only make your fever worse.”
With the lamps lit, Helen was no longer afraid. She nodded obediently and stayed behind.
The small bag of food they had bought at the outpost was clearly insufficient. Moreover, Ed-Bear needed to consume a massive amount of calories; its adaptive evolution was still underway, and it required immense energy. Wang Yue had only created a basic functional template for the avatar at the Waystation; it required further modification and upgrades based on the environment.
Ed-Bear’s first stop was the stables, where it purchased a Forest-Leap Lizard. It was a young creature, about two years old, covered in red and green scales. It had powerful hind legs and small, almost cute forelimbs, and it flicked its tongue out occasionally.
These bipedal lizards were raised from birth to be comfortable around humans, making them excellent companions for exploring the Evernight Realm. They were typically used for solo riding, with saddles capable of carrying about fifty pounds of gear on either side. Without a rider, their load capacity increased to nearly two hundred pounds.
For Ed-Bear, money was no object—especially after looting the Secret Window Society’s headquarters.
The town lacked formal restaurants, having only taverns instead. A tavern served as a pub, an inn, and a grocery all at once. They sold a wide variety of food, ranging from prepared meals to fresh produce.
Ed-Bear navigated the streets and arrived at the tavern. Through the windows, it saw a boisterous scene filled with the aroma of food and ale. The tables were packed, and a row of mats lined the walls where some travelers lay resting. A staircase led to the second floor, where a dozen or so beds were partitioned off by folding screens.
Aside from the diners and lodgers, a group of children had gathered around a bard to watch a “Sandbox Drama.”
The bard was a woman. Though she wore a simple white mask that hid her features, her striking silhouette drew the eyes of many patrons. Before her sat a square wooden box filled with “Mind-Sands”—a black, coarse sand that writhed and shifted with a magnetic, fluid motion.
Ed-Bear recognized it as an Ordinary Relic. The sand could change shape based on the user’s thoughts, often used for sandbox simulations or storytelling.
The children watched with wide, expectant eyes. One little boy with a gap in his teeth couldn’t wait any longer. “Miss Belle, what story are we hearing today?”
A sweet, melodic voice drifted from behind the mask.
“Today… we shall tell a tale of the Lantern-Bearers.”
“Hooray!”
“Tell us, tell us!”
“I love stories about heroes!”
