Max shuffled behind Diaza, every step a squeaky negotiation between his feet and the dusty floor. The hospital basent was... well, a basent. Dimly lit, with flickering bulbs that looked like they might give up and plunge the whole place into permanent darkness any second. Boxes stacked like modern art, cobwebs thick enough to knit a scarf, and the faint sll of old antiseptic that hadn’t seen a new bottle in decades.
"Uh... this is the basent?" Max asked, trying to sound casual while simultaneously imagining every horror ani scenario he’d ever played in his head. "Because it kind of feels like... you know, basent of doom? Evil villain headquarters vibes?"
Diaza chuckled but didn’t bother denying it. That silence made Max’s stomach drop.
He gulped. "Not kidnapping, not human experints, not—"
A loud creak split the air. One of the cardboard towers groaned like it had just witnessed a cri.
"Oh my god," Max whispered, eyes darting around. ’It is kidnapping, isn’t it? Or—wait—black-market organ harvesting?’
Before he could even consider bolting back upstairs, Diaza was already halfway down the corridor, stepping into a well-lit hallway beyond the gloom.
Max hurried after her, heart pounding, until he stumbled into a starkly different room—bright, sterile, and bustling. A few doctors in operation gowns moved around busily, the scent of disinfectant instantly stronger here. On the bed at the center lay soone—hopefully a patient, not a corpse. Max preferred to believe that. He needed to believe that.
Given the whole "healing rune" talk, the guy was probably alive. Hopefully. Refusing to help wasn’t an option, not unless Max wanted to test how creative this world could get with torture thods.
He swallowed hard, steeling himself. Whatever this was, he’d play along. Better to patch soone up than end up being the one on that bed.
"Why are you bringing a kid down here?" one of the so-called doctors muttered, hands busy doing sothing Max really, really hoped was happening to soone still alive. "Another rich brat overdose on mana? Need his blood or sothing?"
Max’s stomach twisted.
"Nah," Diaza replied calmly, not even looking back. "He’s worth more than spare parts."
Max froze.
’...What?’
His brain imdiately went nuclear.
’No. No no no no—this is bad. This is really bad.’
’This is an organ-harvesting ring. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?’
’Fuck. FUCK. Max, you idiot. Hide. Always hide. Powers don’t just bring great responsibility— they bring THIS kind of great shit too.’
His heart was pounding so hard he was sure everyone could hear it.
Diaza glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a small smile tugging at her lips as she added casually,
"Once you’re done healing him, let him take a look around. If this works out..." she shrugged lightly, like she was discussing grocery shopping, "...we might’ve found ourselves an unlimited supply of organs."
She paused, then finished pleasantly,
"All from a single ’donor.’"
Max’s soul left his body.
Well... he was a kid, right? Kids were allowed to ask questions. Probably. Hopefully.
So Max did the only thing that made sense.
He reached out and grabbed the hem of Diaza’s uniform like a frightened side character about to die in episode one and asked, in the most innocent voice he could muster,
"Miss Diaza... what is this place?"
He even put on his best harmless expression—wide eyes, nervous smile, zero threat—silently praying they wouldn’t decide to recruit him into whatever nightmare operation they were running down here.
Everyone in the room turned to look at him.
They were smiling.
Max did not like those smiles.
They weren’t warm. They weren’t reassuring. They looked less like smiles and more like people licking their lips before a al. The harsh lights overhead made his head spin a little, sweat trickling down his spine.
Diaza stopped and turned, adjusting her glasses.
"This," she said calmly, "is what we call an operating theater. We perform procedures here."
She gestured casually toward the figure lying on the bed.
"And that’s just a dummy. We practice on it."
Max stared at the unmoving body.
"The problem," Diaza continued pleasantly, "is that we damage it during practice." Her eyes flicked back to him, sharp and expectant. "So I need you to repair it."
She smiled.
"With that little magic of yours."
Max stared at her, completely dumbfounded.
She had just caught him reading dical journals—actual, serious ones—and sohow she still thought he wouldn’t understand what was happening here? Either that, or she knew exactly how much he understood and was enjoying his reaction way too much.
Judging by the amused glint in Diaza’s eyes as she studied his frozen expression... yeah. It was definitely the second one.
"Now," she said lightly, tilting her head, "would you help ?"
Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "I’ll reward you."
That word snapped him back into his body.
Max swallowed and looked toward the table.
Several people stood around it, already gloved up. Their hands were stained red—real red, not movie red, not the fake glossy stuff he’d seen on screens back on Earth. This was different. Heavy. Wet. Close enough that he could sll iron in the air.
He’d never seen gore like this outside of films.
And now she wanted him to watch it. Worse—she wanted him to fix it.
Heal it.
Hell, he didn’t even know if he could. He barely knew how any of this actually worked outside of theory and smug confidence.
Diaza’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
"What has our donor agreed to give us?" she asked casually.
"Nothing major," the main doctor replied without looking up. "Just a kidney. He’ll live."
Just.
Diaza humd, then turned back to Max, smiling like she was offering him a fun little puzzle.
"Can you grow a new kidney, Max?" she asked softly.
"I’ll reward you... if you do."
Max’s stomach rolled violently.
He watched the doctors’ hands slide in and out of the open incision like they were rummaging through a bag instead of a human being. Blood coated their gloves, dripping lazily back into the wound. His brain scread abort mission, but his mouth lagged behind.
"I– I don’t know how..." he stamred, sounding like a bugged NPC stuck in a dialogue loop.
"We’ll teach you," Diaza said pleasantly, like she was offering a cooking class.
She pulled out her phone and started swiping, completely unfazed by the whole active organ removal situation happening three feet away. After a mont, she shoved the screen toward him.
"I’ve got a few dical journals here," she said. "They cover regenerating specific organs with magic. Take a good look."
Max glanced at the screen, then back at the operating table.
"We need two more by tomorrow."
The sentence hit harder than any threat.
She smiled—wide, pleased, almost cheerful—as she pressed the phone into his trembling hands.
"If you can’t manage it," Diaza added lightly, "we can still take one more from him." Her eyes flicked toward the patient. "But we’ll need another donor after that, so keep that in mind."
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