The moment I saw my brother collapse to the ground, I was the first one to reach him—even before my father, who only needed to get back onto his feet.
I immediately placed a hand against Boreo's forehead.
It was incredibly hot.
So hot, in fact, that for an instant it felt as though I had accidentally brushed my hand against the flames of a fireplace. Even though my brother had lost consciousness, I could clearly hear his heavy, labored breathing.
"Dad, help me get him to bed!" I shouted at my father.
He still hadn't gotten up from the floor—or, more precisely, he hadn't been able to.
The shock of seeing his son suddenly collapse right in front of him without the slightest warning had momentarily paralyzed him.
And I couldn't blame him at all.
After all, only a few moments earlier, my brother had seemed like the very picture of health. He had even managed to defeat my father in their practice match without showing any particular signs of exhaustion.
It was true that, in preparation for the tournament, Boreo's periods of rest had been greatly reduced. However, both he and my father had been extremely careful not to overdo his training. They both understood perfectly well that if Boreo injured himself or became incapable of fighting before the tournament, then all those weeks of hard work would have been completely meaningless.
Fortunately, my voice seemed to snap my father out of his stupor.
"Yes."
My father quickly moved over to us and lifted Boreo beneath his armpits, while I grabbed his legs so they wouldn't drag along the floor.
"I'll go call Dr. Franco. And don't worry—I'll take care of paying for the visit," Mario immediately said.
For a moment, my father looked as though he was about to protest what Mario had just offered.
But then he glanced down at my unconscious brother.
"All right."
The instant he received my father's approval, Mario took off running. He rushed out of the dojo and headed straight toward the home of Franco, the only doctor in our entire village.
My father and I carried Boreo into the bedroom my brother and I shared and carefully laid him down on his bed. We immediately covered him with the thickest blanket we owned, since his entire body was clearly trembling.
"I'm going to get a wet cloth. You stay here beside your brother," my father told me.
"Sure, father."
I sat beside Boreo and gently squeezed his hand.
Partly, I suppose, I did it because I wanted to give him strength. But if I were being truthful, that gesture was probably meant more to give me strength.
My brother's forehead was incredibly hot—far hotter than anyone else's forehead I had ever touched while checking whether they had a fever. Whatever was happening to Boreo, I was already certain that this was no ordinary fever.
About a quarter of an hour later, Mario returned with Dr. Franco, who immediately began examining my brother.
The examination lasted nearly half an hour.
During that entire time, Boreo did not stop trembling for even a single moment.
Once he had finished, the gray-haired elf doctor turned toward the rest of us. Before he could even open his mouth to explain anything, however, my father urgently asked him,
"Doctor, what's wrong with my son? Is it curable?!"
"I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. Kano, but it's still too early for me to determine exactly what is wrong with your son," Franco replied seriously. "The symptoms he is displaying at the moment are far too general. They could indicate the beginning of many different illnesses. To get a clearer picture, we'll have to observe how this illness—whatever it may be—develops over the next several days."
The doctor briefly looked back toward Boreo before continuing.
"So I'll come here every day and examine your son. And don't worry about the money. Last year, Boreo frequently helped me by protecting shipments of medicine being delivered to me, and every single time, he also helped carry those supplies into my clinic. I'll make do with whatever Mario has already paid me. Every other visit until your son recovers will be free."
Franco spoke in an incredibly gentle voice.
"I see… So it's still too early to know what's wrong with my son…" my father murmured, staring down at the floor while tightly clenching both fists.
Then he raised his head and looked Franco directly in the eyes.
"In any case, thank you very much, Franco. Knowing that my son helped such a good person as you makes me even prouder of him than I already was…"
My father paused for a moment before adding in a solemn but clearly melancholy voice,
"Is there anything we can do for my son while you try to determine exactly what illness is afflicting him?"
"Yes. Keep replacing the cloth on his forehead regularly with one soaked in fresh water, and make sure that someone is almost always here with him to monitor his condition and see whether any new symptoms appear," Franco explained. "Also, if he wakes up, under no circumstances should you allow him to leave the bed until I give you permission. And, of course, if at any point it seems as though his condition is suddenly worsening, don't hesitate to call me, regardless of what time of day or night it is."
Both my father and I nodded.
"All right. Then I'll be going for now, but I'll return tomorrow to examine him again," the doctor said.
Holding the case containing all his medical instruments, Franco left the bedroom and returned to his clinic.
Several seconds of complete silence followed. My father and I simply stood there, staring at my brother's sleeping face. Eventually, I decided to be the one to break that silence.
Looking my father straight in the eyes, I said,
"Father, I'll take care of my brother. You should focus on training the other students. Obviously, Boreo's health is more important than anything else, but winning that tournament is also incredibly important to our family. If we're lucky, since there's still an entire month before it begins, my brother might recover in time to participate."
I glanced toward Boreo before continuing.
"But even so, I think it would be better for you to focus on properly training the other students, Father. That way, even if my brother can't participate, we'll still increase the chances of someone from our dojo winning."
"Yes, Aurola, you're right, but…" my father replied.
There was obvious hesitation in his eyes.
At the time, I assumed he was simply unsure whether he should entrust the responsibility of looking after his eldest son entirely to me. So I gave him the most reassuring smile I could manage, hoping it would convince him that he could trust me.
But I was wrong. And I wouldn't discover the real reason behind his hesitation until a little while later.
My father briefly shook his head.
"All right. I'll leave Boreo in your care. But if anything unexpected happens, come and tell me immediately," he finally said in a serious voice, though a gentle smile had returned to his face.
He then left the bedroom and returned to the other students, who had naturally been worried about Boreo. After explaining the situation to all of them, my father resumed their training.
For the remainder of that day, there were no particular changes in my brother's condition. Eventually, night fell.
At least for that first night, I had decided to keep watch over Boreo the entire time. I was going to stay awake until morning, both as a small way of thanking him for all the effort he had put into helping our family and because, quite frankly, I was far too worried to fall asleep anyway.
That was precisely why, at around one in the morning, I was still wide awake when I suddenly saw my brother's eyes slowly open.
"What happened…? Why am I in our room?" Boreo muttered weakly.
Then, almost immediately, he added,
"I have to get back to the dojo… I have to train… The tournament is only a month away…"
He tried to push himself upright.
I immediately placed my hands against him and gently forced him back down onto the bed.
"Big brother, you collapsed after your match with Dad. You have an extremely high fever, so please don't try to get up. You should know even better than I do that training while you're in this condition would only be counterproductive," I explained. I deliberately avoided mentioning the fact that Dr. Franco still had no idea what illness was afflicting him.
"I see…" Boreo murmured. "So that's why I feel unbearably hot, but at the same time I can't stop shivering…"
Then my brother gave me a gentle but visibly exhausted smile.
"Thanks, Aurola… You're right. I'd better stay in bed… Everyone knows that with illnesses like this, the best medicine is plenty of rest."
"Of course, big brother. But if you can, try not to fall asleep again just yet. I'll bring you something to eat right away. You know, you missed dinner!"
I smiled at him.
"Mario's mother made one of her special soups just for you after she heard that you weren't feeling well."
"Ah… Then I definitely can't fall asleep yet…" my brother said, although speaking was clearly difficult for him. "The soups Mario's mom makes are always fantastic."
"Of course."
I immediately ran to the kitchen to retrieve the soup.
Unfortunately, Boreo managed to eat only about half of it before falling asleep once again.
The following six days weren't much different.
I spent practically every hour of every day inside the bedroom with my brother. Dr. Franco came to examine him each day, exactly as he had promised, but despite all his efforts, he still couldn't determine what illness Boreo had.
Whenever my brother happened to wake up, I would immediately bring him something to eat and make sure he drank some water.
His condition didn't appear to improve. But neither did it seem to worsen. No new symptoms appeared, either. Yet precisely because nothing seemed to be changing, my father, the other students of the dojo, and I became increasingly worried with each passing day.
That unsettling stalemate finally ended on the seventh day…
The previous night, exhausted after several nights with almost no proper sleep, I had eventually fallen asleep while leaning against the side of my brother's bed.
Early the next morning, I was suddenly awakened by faint moans of pain.
My eyes immediately opened.
And for the first time in nearly a week, I saw a clear change in my brother's condition. Unfortunately, I was practically one hundred percent certain that it wasn't a good sign.
"Dad! Call Dr. Franco!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Almost immediately, I heard my father's hurried footsteps as he raced through the dojo and out the door.
I immediately returned my attention to my brother.
All the veins that would normally have been only faintly visible beneath Boreo's skin were now grotesquely swollen. They stood out clearly across his body and visibly pulsated beneath his skin.
But strangely enough, even that wasn't the most frightening symptom. It was their color. Every one of those swollen veins had turned an incredibly vivid red. So bright, in fact, that it looked as though liquid fire was coursing through them instead of blood.
Every few seconds, another faint moan of pain escaped my brother's lips. Hearing those sounds made me desperately want to squeeze his hand tighter. But I forced myself not to.
Once, when we had both been much younger, I had accidentally squeezed Boreo's hand far too hard and nearly broken it. Instead, I limited myself to gently holding his hand while saying,
"Hang in there, big brother. Dr. Franco is already on his way. I'm sure he'll finally figure out what's wrong with you, and then he'll have you feeling better in no time!"
Of course, my brother was unconscious. He couldn't hear a single word I said. In truth, those words of encouragement were probably directed far more toward myself than toward him.
Not even a full minute later, the bedroom door burst open, revealing my father and Franco, both of them visibly out of breath.
The doctor's eyes widened the instant he saw Boreo's condition.
Without wasting even a second, he rushed toward the bed.
"I'm sorry, Aurola, but I need to begin examining him immediately," Franco said, his voice unusually serious. "Could I ask you and your father to leave the room for a moment? I promise you that, once this examination is finished, I'll finally be able to tell you exactly what's wrong with Boreo."
My father and I both nodded before immediately leaving the room.
The minutes that followed were among the most agonizing and tense moments of my entire life. Even literally hundreds of years after that day, I can still remember exactly how those minutes felt.
My hands wouldn't stop trembling. My father noticed. Without saying anything, he reached over and squeezed one of my hands tightly yet gently.
A little over ten minutes later, Franco finally emerged from the bedroom. His expression was incredibly stern.
For one terrible moment, as I stared at that face—a face that seemed certain to deliver nothing but terrible news—I felt as though my heart had stopped beating completely. I couldn't even think of anything to say.
My father, however, wasted no time.
"Franco, what's wrong with my son?" he asked.
It was almost exactly the same question he had asked a little over a week earlier.
Franco took a long, deep breath.
Then he finally began to explain.
"The illness currently afflicting your son is known as 'Red Lines Leading to the Dragon's Lair,' although most people simply call it 'Red Dragon Lines.' It is an extraordinarily rare disease. In my life of more than a century, I have encountered only four cases, including your son."
Franco's expression became even graver.
"It can only be contracted by someone who possesses an affinity for Fire Magic. During its initial stage, the illness appears little different from an extraordinarily severe fever. However, after approximately one week of incubation, the patient's veins begin to swell and, as you have already seen, turn that vivid red color."
The doctor paused for a moment.
"That change indicates that the patient's mana has spiraled completely out of control. An enormous quantity of mana begins flooding through every vein in the patient's body."
I felt my stomach twist as Franco continued.
"And after approximately one month, all of that accumulated mana will activate simultaneously, transforming all of the patient's blood into blazing fire."
Neither my father nor I could say a word.
"The fire will not burn the patient's skin," Franco continued in a heavy, pained voice, "because by that point, the skin itself will have become extraordinarily resistant as a result of the uncontrolled mana. Instead, the flames will burn the patient entirely from within, consuming everything inside the body until nothing remains except skin and bones…"
I was literally on the verge of fainting.
But before my father could completely succumb to despair, he immediately asked the one question that represented our only remaining hope.
"Is there a cure?" my father asked, his voice trembling.
"Yes, there is…" Franco replied.
And at those three words, my heart finally seemed to begin beating again.
"A medicine can be prepared using a flower known as the 'King of Dragons.' Taking even a single dose of that medicine is enough to completely eliminate Red Dragon Lines in one fell swoop. And fortunately, I know both how to obtain that flower and how to prepare the medicine—"
"Well, then do it immediately! I'm willing to do anything if it means saving my son!" my father interrupted with a desperate shout.
"I understand, Kano, but there's a problem," Franco replied. "Although I know how to obtain the flower, I don't possess one myself. The only way I can acquire it is by buying it from a merchant friend of mine, and I'm certain that he has at least one King of Dragons flower in his possession."
Franco lowered his gaze.
"Unfortunately, however, I don't have anything close to enough money to purchase it…"
His voice was filled with guilt.
"Forget about the price!" my father shouted desperately. "My son's life is at stake! I'm willing to pay any price! TELL ME!!!!!"
Franco slowly raised his eyes and looked my father directly in the face.
Then he spoke.
"At least one million dorae…"