The last funeral

A man entered, his mustache thick, blond streaked with grey.

"Alright, Humbert, this is Dr. Lloyd. You may ask him anything you wish."

Dr. Lloyd looked at the injured boy and began his examination. The first thing that caught his eye was the boy's twisted feet.

"What do you think? What do you believe they're suffering from?"

Humbert asked.

The doctor sighed and replied, "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?! The headmaster told me you're the best in the city. Haven't you seen a case like this before?"

"I've only seen this condition here, in this orphanage. I did everything I could for the first child, but it was of no use.

This thing feels... truly unnatural."

Arto furrowed his brows and said,

"You mean it's demonic? Not a common illness?"

The doctor looked toward Arto and bent down to face him.

"I don't believe in such things," he said.

"But the devil exists! Father, why don't we cast the devil out? Perhaps he's inside Edward!"

Arto turned to Humbert, seeking his agreement. Though not entirely convinced, Humbert still proposed the idea to the priest, as it somehow felt... reasonable.

"You haven't tried this. Let's try and see if there truly is a demonic presence—or perhaps something even worse."

"Very well. Let's move little Edward to my room."

The four of them walked to the priest's room. They were met by the image of the Virgin Mary hanging on the large wall directly opposite the door, and beneath it, a crucifix.

They laid the child on the bed.

His body still trembled, his face pale and seemingly detached from the real world.

The priest drew his Bible from his pocket and began reciting prayers over the boy.

"Our Father, who art in heaven..."

Arto watched the boy with intense focus, waiting—hoping—for even the slightest response.

The doctor let out a quiet sigh. He did not believe in what they were doing, but then something happened that made him straighten his posture as he leaned calmly against the wall.

The boy's mouth moved.

"It's moving! His mouth is moving!"

Arto shouted, pointing toward the child's face.

The boy's tremors worsened, and incoherent whispers slipped from his lips.

The doctor moved closer. The priest continued reading from the book.

The doctor placed his hand on the boy's forehead.

"He's burning up, as if he's on fire!"

"Don't stop,"

Humbert told the priest. And the priest obeyed—there were no other options now.

The doctor injected the child with a fever-reducing serum. The tremors ceased, but the boy's skin visibly flushed red from the intense heat.

Minutes passed, and suddenly, blood burst from his mouth and ears.

Arto, standing behind them, froze in horror at what he witnessed.

The priest continued reciting, turning one page after the next, his voice growing louder.

The doctor placed his hand on the child's chest.

"His heart has stopped."

It hadn't worked.

Humbert grasped the priest's hand to stop him from flipping the page.

It was over. They had failed to save him.

A violent thud made them all turn around.

Arto had fainted—collapsed to the ground.

Humbert's eyes widened in alarm.

"Arto!"