Wishmaker Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Read chapter 6 of Wishmaker by Larch on NovelPedia.

Knock! Knock! The door opened wide, followed by the smell of beer and medicine so strong that no one would be able to keep a straight face. "Morning." Sunday walked inside the room without sparing a glance at the startled Valentine, placed a stool he brought with him next to his bed, and took a seat on it, barely fitting. It wobbled under his weight, but soon stopped and sank down a little. Valentine briefly glanced at the burly man, still wearing the same clothes as always, as if there was nothing else to find inside his wardrobe. It had been roughly four days since he was brought to this cabin, spending his time lying in bed and watching the ceiling with a hollow gaze. As some time passed, he figured out that Sunday really was a good person, becoming even more ashamed of himself for attacking him without reason. The very man he injured was now tending to him like a nurse, changing his bandages in his sleep and feeding him soup, which he was reluctant to eat at first, but still tried it due to his empty stomach growling. Hopeless. He watched Sunday inspect his wounds like usual, trying to get any reaction from touching certain parts of his body, which brought no results. He couldn't feel anything. It's all hopeless. His body was ruined. There was nothing he could do about it. "Now then, let me check on your condition." Without waiting for an answer, he reached for the tightly wrapped bandages, unwrapping them so fast that Valentine didn't have time to react, only able to watch it change colors with wide eyes. Soon, the room was filled with a heavy smell of blood. It doesn't seem to hurt? As the bloodied bandages came off, the shape started becoming crooked, twisted, and unnatural. It was only his arm that he unwrapped, but seeing it in such a state made Valentine's heart drop. Moments later, he almost emptied the contents of his stomach. Is that... my arm? He wanted to rub his eyes out of disbelief, forgetting he couldn't move anything except for his head. Isn't that just a piece of flesh? The gruesome sight left him stunned. Down his shoulder, a piece of meat was lying across the unwrapped bandages, with fragments of bone clearly shattered all over it. His clothes, or rather the clothes he stole, were infused with his flesh, making its texture even more revolting. If he saw it from the side, he would have thought that this thing was not something that could regain its previous shape, only good for amputation. But inside it, even though he couldn't feel it, he knew it was still working. This doesn't make any sense... Blood seeped out from it, staining everything around it with its thick smell. Like watching a sponge slowly drain, his flesh turned paler by the second, blood draining from his body. "I can take care of this." Sunday said with his usual smile, rolling up his long sleeves to reveal countless tattoos over his hairy skin. Wh-Wha-Huh? Valentine kept looking at his mess of a limb with a flabbergasted expression. Take care of what!? There's nothing! Although devastated about losing his arm, and most likely the rest of his limbs, it was clear that they could not be restored even when using the best technology available. If he were a multimillionaire, then perhaps he could have afforded some prosthetics that would replace them, but with no penny to his name? He would become a cripple, with no hopes of even drinking from a cup like a normal person. "Stay still for a second; I'm going to start treating you." "It will take a week per limb, but I'm sure you won't regret it when finished." What is that guy talking about? His tone alone seemed convincing enough to believe his words. Enough for Valentine to keep his lips shut and watch him with a wary gaze, waiting for him to start doing whatever he planned to. Still, there was no way one could restore someone's body without as much as tools. Then. Clasp! Sunday clapped his hands above his head, eyes closed. Huu~ A cloud of smoke escaped his lips, changing the atmosphere of the