Chapter 370: The Price of a Day

The moment we come through the door, I find Rhayne awake.

She’s still lying on the gurney, wrapped in the thermal blanket, but she can hold her head up without help now. A nurse checks the sensors on her arm while the doctor goes over the latest results. When she sees me, Rhayne breaks into a small smile.

“Den…”

“I’m back.”

Zhang takes a step toward her, but I catch her arm discreetly before she gets close.

“Don’t introduce yourself,” I murmur.

She looks at me.

“Why?”

“I want to see if she recognizes you. That’ll build more trust than me just telling her who you are.”

Zhang studies Rhayne over my shoulder. Then she nods.

There’s a difference between asking someone to trust a stranger and letting them find, on their own, someone they already trust. Rhayne just woke up in a body that doesn’t obey her properly yet. I’d rather she have at least that much choice.

We move to the gurney.

Her smile disappears when she notices Zhang beside me.

Her eyes travel over the long hair, the tattoos left bare by the white crop top, and the chains hanging off the cargo pants. She looks back at me, waiting for some kind of explanation.

I stay quiet. I don’t say anything.

Zhang comes up to the head of the gurney and holds out her hand.

Rhayne tries to pull her own hand back under the blanket. The movement is weak, but the intent is clear. She shakes her head and searches for me with her eyes.

I only smile at her.

Rhayne frowns, more confused now. Her eyes are hunting for a fast, safe answer.

Zhang stops the movement. She keeps her hand close without trying to reach again, and tilts her face slightly.

“It’s all right, little one.”

Rhayne goes still.

Her eyes come back to her.

The woman in front of the gurney has hair down to her back, tattooed arms, and an appearance that couldn’t be further from the grey-robed monk we know in Thirstfall. But that voice is still serene, carrying the same gentleness Rhayne has heard so many times after a fight, the same tone and the same timbre.

Her lips part.

“Zhang… Xi?”

Zhang confirms it with a small nod.

Rhayne’s face changes immediately.

She studies her friend’s eyes for a few more seconds, as though she needs to fit the voice and the expression into that appearance. Then she brings her hand out from under the blanket and offers it.

Zhang takes it between hers.

“Hi, Rhayne.”

The girl lets out a quiet laugh, still without any strength behind it.

“Your… hair…”

I look at Zhang.

“That was the first thing I thought too. Then came the tattoos, the chains, and the suspicion that you’d stolen a monk’s identity.”

Zhang smiles, but her attention stays on Rhayne.

She holds the girl’s hand until the nurse finishes adjusting the sensors.

The doctor comes over with a tablet.

“Ms. Zhang Xi?”

She lifts her face.

“Yes.”

“The support Diver registered at reception?”

“That’s me.”

“All right. Before I authorize any procedure, I need to complete your file.”

Zhang lets go of Rhayne’s hand carefully and turns to him.

The doctor opens the form.

“Guild of origin?”

“Silver Fang.”

“Current Rank?”

“C.”

“Professional classification?”

“Healer, Order S.”

He logs the answers without stopping what he’s doing.

“Name of the skill you intend to use?”

“Suzanoo’s Love.”

The doctor’s fingers stop over the tablet.

He looks up, studies Zhang, and goes back to the identification on the screen.

“Wait… Zhang Xi, you said?”

She confirms.

The man straightens up.

“So you’re Leona Hartwell’s right hand?”

“I work with her, yes.”

He looks at the file again. Then at the tattoos on Zhang’s arms.

“Interesting. I didn’t expect to find someone in your position at a neighborhood clinic.”

“I came to help a friend.”

The doctor watches Rhayne for a moment.

When he goes back to the form, his posture is different.

“All right. Then let’s do this properly.”

He brings the terminal closer.

“I need you to describe how the skill works and the conditions you intend to treat.”

“Suzanoo’s Love runs a restorative current through the affected tissue. I can identify compromised structures and support their reconstruction, including muscle, vessels, and internal damage, depending on the extent of the injury.”

“Have you treated this patient before?”

“Yes. In Thirstfall.”

“Was there any adverse reaction?”

Zhang looks at Rhayne before answering.

“The nature of her energy already made an earlier treatment difficult. I was able to finish it, but I had to adjust the conduction. That was in Thirstfall, though. We know Earth may be different.”

The doctor records it.

“Understood. Are you aware that skill use on Earth consumes your permanence window?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have an estimate of the time cost?”

“Twelve hours for this procedure.”

He looks up again, for a different reason this time.

“You understand that time will be deducted from your stay regardless of how long the treatment actually takes?”

“I understand.”

The doctor moves to the next section.

“Are you offering this service voluntarily? Is there any contract, debt, or obligation pressuring you to perform this healing?”

“I’m here of my own accord.”

“Will you receive payment?”

“No.”

He nods and turns to the gurney.

“Ms. Vesper, I need to hear your authorization as well. Do you agree to let Zhang Xi examine you and, if the assessment allows, carry out the treatment?”

Rhayne is still holding the tips of Zhang’s fingers.

“Yes.”

“Can you say that clearly for the record?”

She gathers a little more air.

“I authorize it.”

The confirmation appears on the terminal.

“Very well. I’ll clear the initial assessment. The monitors will stay active and our team will observe the entire procedure.”

He signals to the nurses, who move part of the mobile equipment aside to open space around the gurney.

I look at Zhang.

“What do you think?”

She watches Rhayne for a moment.

“I need to examine her first.”

She steps closer again.

“May I, little one?”

Rhayne nods.

Zhang starts with the arms. She braces a hand under the right elbow and bends the limb slowly, watching how the muscle responds. She asks Rhayne to resist the movement, then checks the wrists, finger strength, and shoulder mobility.

The responses are weak, but they’re there.

She moves to the other arm, repeating the assessment without hurrying.

“Can you feel my fingers here?”

“I can.”

“And here?”

“That too.”

When Zhang asks her to squeeze her hand, Rhayne tries to close her fingers. The strength fails before she can hold the grip.

“That’s fine,” Zhang says. “I understand now.”

She adjusts the blanket to keep Rhayne covered and moves to the legs. She flexes each knee, checks the range in the ankles, and moves the feet in different directions. In some places she finds resistance. In others, the limb gives without Rhayne managing to take part in the movement.

The girl follows all of it in silence.

When Zhang lifts her right leg, she tries to help.

The muscle contracts, but the leg doesn’t follow.

Rhayne presses her lips together.

“Don’t force it,” Zhang says. “I want to know what your body can do right now.”

She checks the joints again, runs her hands across the muscle groups, and asks a few questions about pain, sensitivity, and discomfort. She also watches how the torso responds when the nurse helps Rhayne shift position slightly.

The exam ends a few minutes later.

Zhang settles the girl’s arms onto the blanket and covers her to the shoulders.

The doctor waits for her assessment.

“There’s significant functional loss, but the response is preserved,” she says. “I didn’t find anything that would prevent the attempt.”

Then she looks at me.

“I can do it.”

I let the air out slowly.

“What’s it going to cost?”

Zhang understands immediately that I’m not asking about money.

She thinks for a moment.

“I spent six hours getting here. I’ll use twelve on the healing and keep another six for the trip back.”

‘Twenty-four hours.’

A full day of her time on Earth.

“Zhang…”

“I still have three days, Dryden.”

She says it with the same calm she’d use to announce a mealtime.

“You came back to see people who matter to you,” I remind her.

“And I’m going to see them.”

Zhang looks at Rhayne, who is following our conversation.

“You gave me the chance to come back to Earth much sooner than I expected. Three days is more than enough for me.”

Rhayne squeezes her hand.

“Thank you…”

Zhang returns the gesture.

“I have a lot to be thankful for too.”

I stay quiet.

‘One day.’

I spent my entire first life measuring every return by how many hours I still had. I know what that choice is worth.

Zhang turns her attention back to the doctor.

“May I begin?”

He checks the monitors and signals to the team.

“You may. We’ll track her responses throughout the procedure. Unfortunately, this isn’t Thirstfall. The body may react differently.”

One nurse adjusts the sensors on Rhayne’s legs. The other positions the medical terminal where the doctor can watch the readings without getting in the way.

Zhang stands beside the gurney.

She places a hand on Rhayne’s right thigh, over the thin fabric used during the assessment, and closes her eyes.

Her breathing settles.

“Suzanoo’s Love.”

A translucent current appears under her palm.

It looks like water.

The surface ripples gently, spreading across Zhang’s fingers before running down Rhayne’s leg. The current follows the contours of the muscle and sinks into the tissue, leaving a faint glow under the skin.

The monitor registers a change.

The nearest nurse looks up.

Zhang slides her hand a few inches.

The current moves with it.

I watch the thigh muscle respond. The area gradually recovers volume, while small contractions run through the leg. The tissue reorganizes itself in front of our eyes, filling areas the long submersion had left weakened.

The doctor moves closer to the terminal.

“Expand the muscular reading.”

The nurse obeys.

The graphs start to change.

Zhang keeps working.

The luminous water runs down past the knee, reaches the calf, and splits into smaller currents. Wherever her hand passes, the structures regain firmness. Fibers that barely responded during the assessment start contracting at a steady rhythm.

Rhayne takes a deep breath.

“Does it hurt?” Zhang asks.

“No… It’s strange.”

“Can you handle it?”

She nods.

Zhang continues.

The other nurse leaves her notes for a few seconds and just watches the current cross the ankle. When she catches herself, she goes straight back to the terminal.

I can’t blame her. She isn’t a Diver.

But even someone who has only seen healing skills in recordings knows there’s an enormous difference between watching a video and standing a few inches away while muscle recovers its function.

The doctor tracks every change, though his eyes keep returning to Zhang’s hands.

She finishes the right leg and moves to the left.

The current forms again.

Then she works the arms, the hands, and the areas she identified during the assessment. The water splits into smaller filaments and runs through the tissue with precision, rebuilding muscle volume and restoring responses that would otherwise take weeks of treatment.

Little by little, Rhayne’s body needs less of the gurney to hold it.

The blanket still covers her, but I can see the movement underneath it.

She closes her hand.

Bends her knee slightly.

The doctor asks us to wait until the end before testing any effort.

Zhang stays focused.

The water I’m seeing here isn’t OXI, or mana being converted.

We’re on Earth. There’s no ambient Thirstfall energy freely feeding that skill, and she can’t even open a HUD to track what’s happening to her reserve.

But I know the price.

While that current restores Rhayne’s body, Zhang’s counter must be draining. I picture the numbers disappearing in sequence, like a meter eating coins until an operation completes.

Twelve hours of Earth time, spent on these few impossible minutes.

I look at her hands.

The current passes through the last muscle group and starts thinning out. Zhang keeps her palm on Rhayne’s leg a few seconds longer, checking the response before breaking contact.

The luminous water disappears.

The doctor checks the results.

One of the nurses looks at the reading, then at Rhayne, with an expression that hasn’t recovered its usual professionalism yet.

Zhang opens her eyes.

She takes one deep breath.

Her face is still serene, though a thin layer of sweat has appeared near her hairline.

She leans toward Rhayne.

“Little one, do you think you can walk?”

Rhayne looks at her own feet.

For a few seconds, nobody speaks.

Then the toes move under the blanket.

The right foot first.

Then the left.

Rhayne fixes her eyes on that movement and tries again. This time the toes obey without the delay we saw during the assessment.

She lifts her face.

Zhang holds out her hand.

Rhayne looks at her and takes her fingers.

Hi everyone,

I want to sincerely apologize for missing updates over the past few days. Life has been incredibly hectic lately, and as much as I wish I could dedicate myself entirely to writing, being a full-time writer just isn’t possible for me yet.

But please, don’t worry. Thirstfall isn’t going anywhere. This story is a dream of mine, and I’m fully committed to seeing it through with all of you.

Thank you so much for your patience, your understanding, and for being part of this journey. Your support means more to me than you know.

We’ll see this dream through together.