Bailonz Street 13

It was a transparent sword. Though not as solid and sharp as those crafted by Liam Moore, it was sufficient to kill that thing.

I vividly remember the sensation it created. The feeling of slicing through the tough yet soft outer shell, then the sticky liquid pouring out as it penetrated the soft inner flesh, and finally emerging from the shell again. The entire process was so clear that I could almost describe it. Even after it passed through my hand, the sensation lingered.

I exhaled. As soon as I opened my hand, the sword melted and vanished. Splat. The sound of the creature split in two, covered in some unknown liquid, hitting the study floor echoed.

At that moment, the pile of books twitched.

That’s right, Liam!

I rushed over and began digging through the scattered books. A faint coughing sound came from inside, then it went silent again. I was terrified he might pass out for good.

“Liam! Liam! Don’t fall asleep! Got it?”

I pushed aside the piled-up books, and a hand emerged. I grabbed it, and he gripped back with surprising strength. Then Liam Moore emerged as if rising from water.

“Ugh, ugh…”

His abdomen was soaked in blood. Liam struggled to breathe, lifting one eyelid with difficulty. He looked at me, seeming very surprised that I was holding him, probably assuming I had been killed by that thing.

“Jane…!”

Liam tried to shout but clutched his side and doubled over. The pain must have surged with every breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He grabbed my shoulder with his bloody hand.

“Get out of this house, now.”

His voice was mixed with laboured breaths. Then he pushed my shoulder. As I stumbled backward, Liam Moore pressed his side and stood up.

“What do you think you’re doing in that condition?”

I asked, bewildered. Maybe I was a bit angry too. Did he really intend to fight?

Liam didn’t know I had defeated the attacker. He probably thought it was still wandering around the house and that I had entered while he was momentarily away. He urged me to leave. I admired his sense of responsibility but his inability to assess his condition was reckless. Clutching his side, he gasped and said,

“I can do anything. It’s dangerous here. Leave, now.”

The idea of leaving him behind was absurd. He knew I wouldn’t. If I hadn’t defeated that thing, if I had been home a little later, or if he had regained consciousness first, he really would have faced that monster alone, despite just having passed out and waking up covered in blood.

In a fit of anger, I retorted bluntly.

“What? Because of the marauding raider? I know.”

I pointed behind me with my thumb. In the middle of the destroyed study lay the amorphous mass, the freshly killed monster.

Liam confirmed it. He stared blankly at the bisected creature, then his mouth opened slightly in confusion. His expression said it all, ‘Why is that dead?’

“Why is that…?”

He alternated his gaze between me and it. I, without a scratch, and the dead “marauding raider.”

“Did you…?”

Liam Moore’s eyes rolled back as he muttered those few words. His eyes seemed to show the whites. I jumped up in panic, but before I could react, his knees buckled, and his large body collapsed on me.

Barely able to support his weight, I struggled to prop him up.

‘So heavy!’

He looked agile, so I thought he’d be lighter, but it must have been solid muscle. Tall and heavy, he felt like a giant mountain pressing down on me. I dragged him toward his room, my feet shuffling.

Honestly, I wanted to somehow send a telegram to Herschel. If it were Herschel, he’d come and help Liam no matter what. But with Liam’s complexion paling by the second, I couldn’t leave his side.

I also couldn’t call a nearby doctor. How could I explain the bomb-blasted house? And that creature’s corpse…? This wasn’t some alternate dimension; it was a place that existed in reality. With Liam unconscious, anyone seeing this would think we participated in some demonic ritual and drag us away.

‘Oh my God, what is all this?’

‘Well, it happened like that.’

‘Is this person crazy?’

I ran the scenario in my head and knew it wouldn’t work. My way was the best option. I reluctantly dragged Liam to his room.

I spread out a blanket on the floor and laid Liam Moore on it. The white blanket quickly turned crimson.

I had to see where and how he was hurt, so I peeled back his side. As soon as I did, I screamed. His side was gouged out as if something had bitten into it, revealing red tissue, muscle, pink, and white…

“Aaahhh…!”

It’s a miracle he’s not dead. The shocking sight gave me goosebumps and made me shiver.

“Ugh…”

It was disgusting, but more than that, I had no idea how to treat this.

It wasn’t a wound I could dismiss as a knife stab. This wasn’t some foreign drama about body parts; I never imagined I’d see something like this in my lifetime, especially not the “organ show” of someone I knew.

I considered myself strong-stomached, but maybe Dylan’s body wasn’t. Trembling and trying to control my twitching eyelids, I examined Liam’s wound. Blood welled up with every breath he took. I can’t describe it further. I mean it.

Luckily, aside from the gouged-out side, there were no worse injuries. If you can call that lucky.

I sprang up and looked around Liam’s room.

‘He better still have that hobby of making those strange potions.’

A messy desk, bookshelves, drawers, and a simple bed. Since his roommate was a regular person, he couldn’t openly brew things, so he must have hidden them. But where?

Somewhere not visible upon entering the room. A place only noticeable if deliberately searched.

Dylan’s eyes landed on the dresser. It wasn’t my doing. Dylan must have recalled the suspicious furniture. I hurried over and opened it.

The top drawer was filled with dried herbs and stones. Though the “truth” in my mind knew how to use them, I didn’t trust my own skills. I needed a finished product.

The second drawer wouldn’t open, and the third was filled with disassembled scales and empty bottles. Judging by this, the potion had to be in the second drawer.

I grabbed the handle of the second drawer and yanked hard. It jiggled but didn’t open. I heard glass clinking and liquid sloshing inside, confirming my suspicion.

Desperately, I shouted,

“Liam, where’s the key? The key!”

Of course, there was no response.

“Ugh, no help at all!”

I had no choice. Though I’d feel sorry for Liam later, he’d have enough money to get a new dresser. I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and glared at the locked drawer. Sorry, actually, not sorry. I slammed the poker down hard on the top.

With the force of an adult man, the wood panel came off after a few hits. I reached into the now-open drawer and pulled out the glass bottles one by one. Knowing Liam Moore’s meticulous nature, they were surely labelled.

“Barrier, Detection Potion, Black Mugwort Root… what’s that?”

I pulled out anything related to bleeding, wounds, or recovery. Thankfully, there were a few potions. The problem was that different potions were needed for different symptoms, and Liam Moore exhibited all of them.

‘Isn’t there some instant recovery potion…?’

There wasn’t. I had no choice but to pop open a bottle labelled for stopping bleeding (it mentioned some plant I didn’t know) and poured it over Liam’s side.

It seemed to be the same potion he used on small cuts. The bleeding gradually slowed. But the gaping wound was still there.

I pulled out another bottle. I didn’t know if it was safe to mix these. I looked at the ominous green liquid with a worried expression.

If Liam Moore died, the cause wouldn’t be bleeding or injuries but rather drug overdose, I feared. Still, trying to survive through this gamble was better than dying outright, right?

“Screw it.”

I muttered and continued.

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