The clinic was always quiet, a sanctuary of white marble and the soft scent of lavender. Patients came to Doctor Blade not just for his skill—which was legendary—but for his discretion. He was the man who could cure the incurable, who could knit bone and flesh with a touch that seemed almost divine. But Doctor Blade had a secret, a very lucrative one.
He called it "The Drop of Alilberry."
To the untrained eye, Alilberry was a rare, innocuous herb used in tea to soothe nerves. In concentrated doses, processed through an alembic of dwarven glass and sung over by a mute bard, it became something else entirely. It became the perfect cure. And the perfect weapon.
Blade adjusted his spectacles, looking down at the merchant groaning on the table. "Gout is a terrible thing, Master Vorn," he said, his voice smooth as polished stone. "But I have the remedy."
He uncorked a small vial. The liquid inside swirled with a pearlescent grey mist. One drop would cure the gout instantly, flushing the uric acid from the blood like magic. Two drops... well, two drops would do the same, but the patient's heart would stop, gently, quietly, about an hour after they left the clinic. A peaceful passing in their sleep. Natural causes.
The contract had come in yesterday. A rival guild wanted Vorn gone. The payment was substantial, enough to fund the orphanage Blade secretly supported in the Lower Ward. Morality was a sliding scale, Blade told himself. Vorn was a cheat and a slaver. The world would be cleaner without him.
"Open wide," Blade instructed.
He tilted the vial. One drop fell, landing on Vorn's tongue with a soft hiss. The relief on the merchant's face was instantaneous.
"Miraculous!" Vorn gasped, sitting up. "The pain... it's gone!"
"I am glad," Blade smiled, a small, tight expression. "However, for a case this advanced, a booster is required to ensure it does not return."
"Anything, Doctor! Anything!"
Blade tilted the vial again. A second drop, identical to the first, fell.
"There," Blade said, corking the vial. "You are cured, Master Vorn. Go home. Rest. You have a long sleep ahead of you."
As the merchant bustled out, leaving a heavy sack of gold on the desk, Doctor Blade picked up the vial and held it to the light. The mist inside swirled, dancing like a trapped soul. He wasn't a monster, he reasoned. He was just a doctor who knew the exact dosage for every ailment. Even the ailment of life itself.