The Loser | by Isaac7525

Raymond turned his head to Wilfred, nodding. "Leave us for a few moments, I'll call you back in a short while."

Wilfred silently stood up and obeyed his brother's instructions. His brown eyes remained fixated on Raymond the entire time, but they pulled away into the hallway as he rounded the corner, disappearing from view. 

"Why did you make him leave?" Ayumi asked, her brows furrowing. 

After a short period of silence, Raymond cleared his throat. "You must promise to me that you can't reveal what I'm about to tell you."

She looked back to the door for a few moments, noting Wilfred's absence.

"No problem," Ayumi nodded her head. 

"Ok..." Raymond leaned forward on the bed, prompting an elbow under his chin. 

"You're a Seeker, so I can trust you with this information." 

"Go on..." Ayumi continued, her expression slowly turning more determined. 

For a few seconds, Ayumi's figure was reflected in Raymond's eyes before the latter said without difficulty. "The Blood Moon is a spiritual event every few weeks, usually harmless. This time, the aura of something in this kingdom is prompting the spirits and malevolent existences to rise up and wreck havoc on a larger scale."

"Blood Moon...malevolent existences?" Ayumi repeated the phrases under her breath, her gaze drifting to the sheets below. 

"And you said something was causing all this?" 

Wilfred nodded his head. "Something powerful and dangerous; the origin is something I can't detect, but I know it's here in the kingdom."

His gaze drifted out the window, looking down at the snow-covered sidewalks and pedestrians. 

"The Tremebrus is a creature this kingdom hasn't seen in decades. It only came here because of whatever power is inside the kingdom." 

"After you recover...do you think we'll be able to find whatever this existence is?" Ayumi asked. 

Raymond looked back at her and shook his head. "I can't trace its location, neither can the Pollinators. If they could, it'd be apprehended and brought to justice by now."

...

After stepping out of the changing room wearing my loose white garments, Ms. Jasmine and Captain Silas were standing in the doorway with stern expressions. 

The outfit I was wearing was loose and large on my frame, the sleeves barely danged past my wrists, and the hems of the ankles pooled on the cold floor beneath me. Luckily, the outfit also came with a pair of stiff, thin slippers I could wear over my feet.

I adjusted the collar as I stepped out into the hallway, before looking up at the taller man. His black hair seemed to shield his eyes from view, but I could clearly tell he was boring down at me. Ms. Jasmine's hair was tied into a bun above her head. 

"The medical wing is down this hallway," the red-haired nurse said with a smile as she escorted me and the duo down the chambers. Above our heads, the lights from the gas-lamps flickered every once in a while, casting complicated and foreboding shadows onto the floor below. The walls of the medical facility were made of wood, but the floor was composed of an icy-cold mix of marble and stone. 

In the air, I could smell the almost overwhelming aroma of stimulants and chemicals, which I guessed were either depressants or sedatives for more troubling individuals within the building. The hallway was lined with a large number of doors, each one labeled with a bronze sign with numbers on them—much like the badges on the patients. 

"Do those door signs match the tags on the patients in terms of numbering?" I asked, looking towards the nurse. 

She looked back at me and nodded, her expression slowly turning more serious. "Indeed. If you look down at your own badge, you'll find your room is on the second floor."

At that moment, I looked down at my own badge. Unlike the bronze of the other tags I've seen, mine was made of silver.

"Mine's different," I noted, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Indeed, that's the labels of the second-floor patients. But I warn you, we tend to keep our most...complicated patients on that floor, in the same wing you're designated in." 

"Sounds like you're putting the boy in danger," Captain Silas's voice lowered. 

"We aren't, sir. He's lucid enough to know whether or not to leave his quarters during specific conditioning sessions." 

We rounded a corner and approached a door, which the nurse quickly opened. The inside of the room was sterile in appearance, much like the nurses office back in my home world. Overhead, a single gas-powered lamp illuminated the space. A large cobweb hung above the corner of the opened door, and I caught sight of the large sheet of dust sprawled across the desk and table. 

"Come inside and sit down, please," the nurse instructed, gesturing towards the wooden chair in the corner of the room. 

I walked into the examination room, which felt noticeably colder than the other chambers in the building, and sat down in the wooden chair. It felt rough beneath my rear, boarding on uncomfortable. 

"Leave us, please," she looked towards Captain Silas and Ms. Jasmine, before closing the door behind her. The red-haired nurse sighed, running a hand through her tangled, frizzled locks. 

"Now...I looked through your reports they submitted now that long ago, and it appears you've contracted a...Demon Maggot Disease?"

She grabbed an envelope from the stack on her desk, which had already been opened, ripped slightly at the edges. She lifted the tab and extracted a piece of paper with the Pollinators logo on the backside. When she flipped it in my direction I caught sight of numerous medical logs and information regarding Demon Maggots.

"It appears so, but I don't know anything about it other than it comes from those bugs," I said, looking at the paper. 

"Well," She put the informational papers back on the desk and turned towards me. 

"We don't know much regarding Demon Maggot Disease, so you might end up in a different wing than originally designated."

She leaned back in her chair and continued speaking, her voice gradually lowering. "Though, the process is a little rigorous, so you'll be living with your quarter-mate for the time being." 

"Quarter-mate?" I was taken aback when I heard the statement. 

"Yes, mind if I tell you a little about him?" The red-haired nurse cocked an eyebrow. 

"I...wouldn't mind," I twirled my hair in between my fingers as I replied. 

At that moment, she opened the drawer of her desk, rummaging through it for a few moments before taking out another piece of paper. 

"He's a bit of a kicker, good luck," her eyes widened as she suddenly wolf-whistled. 

"His name is Damien, last name unknown. He's about nine years old, and he originally came here with his father following a medical accident." 

She reached out and handed me the paper. In the corner of the identification log, I caught sight of the boy. He had tired eyes, accompanied by bags and a scowl on his face. He wore the same garments I was, but the collar and hem looked like they had been chewed on. His light-colored hair was disheveled, looking almost greasy in the illumination from where the photo was taken.

"You mentioned he had a father, why isn't he with his child?" I asked, looking up from the paper and at the attendant. 

Suddenly, she froze. Her hands wrapped around the edges of the desk as she let out a shaky sigh. "His father disappeared two months ago without explanation. When we asked him, he said he had no idea what happened." 

"Oh..."

The room fell silent for a few more moments before I swallowed my saliva and continued speaking. "Is he...the dangerous type of patient? He looks like he'd bite my head off."

The red-haired nurse took back the file and shook her head. "He just had temper issues, but he's never actually hurt the doctors or nurses attending to him."

"Doctors and nurses..." I mumbled under my breath. 

"Does he have any...conditions I should know about? Any things I shouldn't say or do that might trigger something?"

The woman nodded her head, pointing towards a section of the papers surrounded by a neatly drawn red box. Over the box was labeled: CONDITION, in bold text.

"Damien's main trouble is epilepsy and depression. He gets triggered if you don't warn him before turning on the lights. As for his depression, it's something we find deeply troubling and want to improve."

"I'm guessing it came from after his father disappeared?" I asked. 

Her eyes narrowed, though the act lacked any contemplative semblance. "He's acted this way even before he lost his father. But, for the most part, he always stayed far from the man and didn't bother to touch him." 

"Sounds like he wasn't particularly close with him," Noticing his predicament and behavioral description, I felt a rush of bitter, force-fed nostalgia. 

"We guess he wasn't exactly close to him, but he always seemed tense when we walked in to treat him."

"What did his father have?"

"Schitzopherenia, he always saw things that weren't there. According to his own medical file, he had an accident and attacked someone on the street he claimed was a horrifying monster. Shortly after, he was apprehended by the Pollinators and taken to the medical facility alongside his son."

"Now..."

She opened the drawer again and took out a small box filled with medical supplies. "Do you mind if we start your examination?" 

"I wouldn't mind," I answered, trying my hardest to sound confident. 

Suddenly, the sound of heavy knocking filtered through the door. Following that, a voice sounded. 

"Damien would like to see his quarter-mate." It appeared to be one of the nurses. 

Hearing that, I felt my blood run cold. I involuntarily scooted back in my chair, the back pressing against the corner of the room. The screeching of the chair seemed to alert the nurse, who turned to me with a calm smile. 

"Don't worry, he's not going to hurt you."

She stood up and approached the door, before opening it and allowing me a view of the two individuals behind it. 

Damien, who stood largely shorter than me, rubbed the tiredness from his eyes with his sleeve cuff, before his snow-white eyes locked on my position in the corner of the room. Judging by the way his sleepy expression instantly contorted, he most likely knew I had moved my chair.

"He moved his chair," The boy looked up at the nurse, crossing his arms in a pout. The nurse calmly placed a hand on his shoulder, bending down to look at him with a more passive expression. 

"Sometimes meeting new people isn't good for everyone. Just because he moved doesn't mean he's scared of you or wants to hurt you."

"Whatever..." Damien's bottom lip extruded as he stepped into the room, sitting down in the chair opposite of me with his arms still folded. 

"You're my quarter-mate?" He asked, his eyes remaining sharp, adjacent to blades.

"I am," I replied, my hands habitually fidgeting with the collar of my shirt. 

"You're older than me. You look like a teenager," the boy strangely commented, sizing me up and down as if wanting to challenge me.

"Yeah...that's true," I gave the boy an awkward smile. 

The red-haired nurse placed a hand on Damien's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "How about you shake his hand, that sound good?" 

Damien's eyes widened slightly as he instantly retracted his hand, tucking it into his oversized sleeve. 

"Never," His voice came off even poutier than before. "Fine, fine," her understanding smile never wavered. 

"Now, I have to give Isaac his medical treatment, do you want to stay or leave?" 

"Isaac?" Damien repeated my name, the word scolding on his tongue. 

"That's a stupid name." 

Damien's lips curled into an almost mocking smile.