Yuriel stepped into the clinic, walking steadily.

Unlike its exterior, the interior was well-equipped and quite spacious.

The space was filled with beakers and unknown herbs, like an ancient alchemy lab, with a fragrant scent permeating the air.

However, being located in a secluded area, there were no customers inside.

Yuriel’s slender body, standing out in the vast space, trembled more as she approached the center.

Ever since that day she was dragged away by the assailant, such symptoms would occur like aftereffects when she was alone.

Yet her steps continued firmly forward.

She hadn’t come here to reconsider or hesitate over such things.

If that was her intention, she would have started by investigating who wrote the anonymous letter.

Thinking there couldn’t be a lower point, any reason to hesitate disappeared.

‘Could there be anything worse than this?’

‘Just when I thought the end was truly near…’

Falling from a sky full of hope tasted more hellish than never having hope to begin with.

Her drying heart pulsed before the only hope, every minute and second.

The fact that it was merely an anonymous letter with no credibility had long been forgotten.

Her current state of mind was one of clinging to even the tiniest hope.

Her steps, mixed with sighs, desperately rushed towards the center.

Those steps finally halted upon discovering an elderly man with graying hair.

Seeing him perusing a book full of medicinal herbs, he was clearly the owner of the clinic.

As she made her presence known, he looked up and asked, brushing back his snow-white hair.

“What brings you here?”

At his words, Yuriel swallowed hard.

Honestly, until she arrived here, she tried not to expect too much.

She repeatedly told herself it was just like a final tunnel, a last resort.

That she was just going, just in case, for the last time.

But now that she was here, facing the doctor, tension surged and Yuriel’s mouth went dry.

“I came to buy Leveru medicine.”

“…”

“Do you… have any?”

At the mention of Leveru, the doctor slightly furrowed his brow for some reason.

‘Is it really not available after all?’

As her resigned heart sank deeply, the doctor stared blankly at Yuriel.

Tilting his head once, he soon posed a question.

“Are you also looking for that?”

“…Pardon?”

Also? Did that mean someone else had been looking for that medicine too?

Of course, it’s not strange for someone to come to a clinic seeking medicine.

But the disease requiring that medicine was quite rare.

After the Reimok epidemic that spread long ago, diseases needing Leveru medicine weren’t very common.

That was also why the expensive Leveru medicine was so scarce.

Looking at Yuriel with surprised eyes, the doctor muttered as if to himself.

“Why are so many people looking for Leveru today?”

The doctor who had mumbled to himself soon shifted his gaze.

His eyes were now fixed on Yuriel’s shabby clothes.

The dress, clearly made of cheap material, was barely managing not to detract from its owner’s beauty.

The doctor was certain that even if the medicine was available, this woman wouldn’t be able to afford it.

Surely a fallen noble or commoner, she could never afford the disease known as the nobility’s ailment.

In that sense, perhaps this was rather fortunate for the woman before him.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all gone already.”

Deep despair filled Yuriel’s eyes.

The hope that instantly turned pitch black and blurry drove her to the edge of a cliff.

Struggling to maintain consciousness, Yuriel gripped the edge of the table tightly to keep her balance.

Didn’t he just say someone had obtained it earlier? Only now did Yuriel recall the doctor’s gaze fixed on her clothes moments ago.

“I can pay you enough.”

Yuriel hastily placed the money bag on the table.

A heavy thud resounded through the space.

This bag contained all the money she had saved while working as an administrator.

Of course, she had also sold all the items received from the man, including clothes and the changer.

Amusingly, their value far exceeded what she had saved over several years.

Still, knowing it might not be enough, she had scraped together loans from every possible place, staking her position as an administrator.

She was willing to do anything if it could save her mother.

So please…

The doctor looked with surprise at the bag making a dull sound.

However, the words that followed, piercing through the space, were contrary to Yuriel’s expectations.

“It’s not about the money. That medicine is truly not available now.”

The doctor’s voice resonated like a curse in Yuriel’s dazed mind.

“Given the unsettled situation, I can’t bring it in right away.”

At this final declaration, tantamount to a dismissal, she clenched her fists until it hurt.

Her body wouldn’t move easily, driven by the desire to find even a last hope.

“Perhaps… could I know who bought that medicine?”

The doctor’s eyes, gazing at her blankly, were tinged with slight pity.

But soon he hardened his face resolutely.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose patient information to others.”

The answer was so obvious that no further words could be added.

The subsequent words of regret but inevitability sounded like a death sentence.

The doctor added, as if trying to console her.

That even if she had obtained one pill, given its exorbitant price, nothing would have changed.

Those words spread like an even greater calamity, engulfing her entire body.

As she staggered out and headed towards the dormitory, her vision blurred.

Her face burned hot, mixed with what might have been raindrops or tears.

Yuriel’s daily life after returning to the dormitory flowed no differently than usual.

It had become a familiar routine to work on the project in a half-dazed state, watch people rejoice over the nearing completion, and return to check on her mother.

The only change was that even a single strand of hope had disappeared from that routine.

Yuriel felt acutely how much of an illusion the word ‘hope’ had been.

The deep sense of despair grew in volume with each passing moment.

The bundle of money that had exchanged everything she had earned so frantically until now came into her view.

Looking at it, now rendered useless, even a sense of futility arose.

Her supervisor occasionally asked questions upon noticing her increasingly pale appearance.

If she was alright.

In her supervisor’s eyes, no, in the eyes of all the administrators and those in the magic tower, she must have looked strange.

While everyone rejoiced over the project nearing completion without a hitch thanks to that man’s help, she alone bore the appearance of a dying person.

She felt ashamed when she saw her supervisor trying to care for even her mood.

All team members praised him for sponsoring and ensuring the success of this project, and outside, everyone praised him for returning from the battlefield.

Hearing this and returning to the dormitory, her mother always waited for her as usual.

When she saw her mother, who greeted her with a faint smile, looking even more emaciated than in the morning, her heart sank.

On the weekend that arrived thus, she and her mother took a carriage to a nearby coast, something they hadn’t done in a while.

Although her mother’s condition had worsened, making movement difficult, she repeatedly insisted she was fine today. Her mother seemed somewhat restless.

In the past, she might have said that if they just endured a little longer, good days would come…

Now that hope had disappeared, she couldn’t give up the present for the future.

Because each of these moments might be the last.

Because she wanted her mother to smile in those last moments, at least.

Yes. At some point, she had started preparing for the end.

An end that she could never adapt to, no matter how much she prepared.

Unable to tell her mother the truth, and unlikely to ever be able to do so.

As they walked along the windy beach, her mother tightly held her hand.

That hand, weaker than before, had lost its warmth.

Yet, seeing her mother trying to smile despite this made her feel like tears would keep spilling out.

Having almost fully regained her memories, she smiled affectionately while calling her by the nickname ‘El’.

Even in such poor health, her mother habitually took care of her.

Seeing her mother like this, tears really did start to flow.

When her mother worriedly asked why she was crying, she just replied that she was so happy, and only then did her mother’s tense gaze soften.

Belated regret also arose.

If only she had never met that man from the beginning.

If only such hope had never existed, wouldn’t it have been less painful and less agonizing?

Feeling like she might shed more needless tears if she stayed, she hastily moved her steps, saying she would go buy something to eat.

Even so, it was a store located where she could still keep an eye on her mother. Fortunately, her mother’s gaze was fixed on the sea.

While purchasing the cream bread her mother usually liked, her mother’s gaze remained fixed on the white waves.

Returning along the path covered with futile regrets, rushing back to her mother.

She came to an abrupt stop beside her mother.

Inexplicable tears were welling up in her mother’s eyes.

Her heart sank with a thud as the cream bread fell to the ground.

‘Could it be that mother knows something?’

The white cream, smashed and scattered on the ground, looked as messy as her own heart.