"It'll do more than that…" Melody spoke up, her voice softer than usual, yet laced with seriousness. There was a gentle strength in her tone—surprisingly delicate for someone so often cold. She had regained her composure, her noble poise returning like a mask slipping back into place.

"It might even erase your scars completely," she added, her eyes holding a rare solemnity.

Rudy's gaze brightened at her words, though a flicker of hesitation lingered.

Michael gave an encouraging nod and raised the phial. "Go on, take it. See for yourself. Half of these belong to you anyway—don't forget."

"R-right… because I won the bet," Rudy said, tension slowly easing from his shoulders. He reached out and accepted the phial, inspecting it closely before pulling the stopper free.

He sniffed the glowing red liquid and immediately grimaced. "Smells metallic… like blood."

"Well, that's not surprising considering it uses Tr—"

Before she could finish, Michael's hand clamped over Melody's mouth in one swift motion, cutting her off at the worst possible moment.

"What does it use?" Rudy asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

"T-truly great ingredients…" Michael offered, forcing a grin that fooled no one.

"OUCH!" he yelped as Melody bit his hand—hard.

He recoiled, clutching the spot where her canines had sunk in. Melody shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone.

Then, turning back to Rudy, she answered plainly, "Troll's blood. Most healing medicine uses it—because trolls have powerful regenerative properties."

"Troll's blood?" Rudy repeated, face paling as he stared at the phial like it might bite him next.

"Don't be so squeamish," Melody scoffed. "Healing magic was lost centuries ago. Only in recent decades have we even begun to recreate its effects—through medicine like this."

Her tone shifted—less annoyed, more impassioned.

"How many mages have died because that knowledge was lost? How many suffered, their wounds festering, with no way to heal?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. "This"—she gestured toward the phial—"is the culmination of centuries of pain, sacrifice, and experimentation. A breakthrough born from desperation and brilliance alike. So don't turn your nose up at it. Show it the respect it deserves."

Rudy blinked. He clearly hadn't expected a lecture—much less one delivered with such conviction.

"I guess… you're right," he muttered. "If this can really heal me, then why should I hesitate?"

Without another word, he lifted the phial and downed it in one motion, tilting his head back with surprising resolve.

Michael watched in disbelief, still rubbing the red mark on his hand. Melody's passion had caught him off guard. He knew the importance of alchemy and the absence of healing magic—but he hadn't expected her of all people to speak with such heartfelt concern.

It was like she'd actually cared.

"Argh…" Rudy let out a sharp groan, collapsing to his hands and knees as the pain hit him like a wave.

Michael's eyes darted to Rudy's back—and what he saw sent a chill through him.

The effects had begun immediately.

Beneath Rudy's skin, something writhed—flesh shifting, knitting itself together. The scars pulsed faintly as if the wounds were reliving their trauma in reverse. It looked like something was crawling just under the surface, tracing each old wound and stitching it closed from the inside out.

The sight was macabre, to say the least—enough to make Michael's stomach twist uncomfortably. And yet, what was happening before his eyes was nothing short of a miracle.

Dozens of disfiguring scars began to shift and contort, as if unraveling from the inside. One by one, they flaked off his back, peeling away to reveal tender, glowing pink skin beneath—like a clean slate, untouched by pain.

Then came the final stage. The few remaining open wounds began to knit themselves closed, drawing another pained cry from Rudy's throat.

"The pain won't last much longer," Melody said gently. Her voice, usually so clipped and cold, now carried a softness that caught Michael off guard. "Just hold on a little longer, Rudy. It'll all be over soon."

Watching her kneel beside Rudy, offering words of comfort, left Michael speechless. Had he ever seen her like this before? Was her concern real? Or was she just pitying him?

He didn't know anymore.

In just two days, Melody had shown more sides of herself than in the three years they'd spent under the same roof at Winterborne Manor.

Just when Michael thought he had her figured out—the poised, blue-haired ice queen—she completely blindsided him again. It was getting hard to tell what was real, and what was just another mask.

As the last of the skin sealed itself, a faint mist began to rise from Rudy's back, curling upward like smoke from cooling embers. It would've been alarming if not for the healthy pink glow of his new skin. Instead, it looked… cleansing. As though something old had been burned away.

A sudden nudge at his arm broke Michael out of his daze.

Melody gave him a look, then gestured toward Rudy, who was still on his hands and knees, trembling slightly.

Ah, right…

"It's over now, buddy," Michael said, stepping forward. He reached down and grabbed Rudy by the arm. "Let's get you back on your feet."

With some effort, he hoisted Rudy upright and gave him a firm pat on the back.

"Oops. Too soon?" Michael added with a crooked grin.

Rudy flinched, then blinked a few times. Slowly, his head tilted back—and he laughed.

It was a bright, unguarded laugh. The kind that came from somewhere deep. It sounded innocent, even joyful… but there was something wistful underneath, like a ghost of sorrow clinging to the edges of his voice.

When the laughter faded, he was still smiling. But tears streaked down both cheeks, catching the light.

"Thank you guys…" he said softly, his gaze drifting between Michael and Melody. "Now that my scars are gone… I won't have to wake up every day and be reminded of what they did to me."

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. Melody's expression sobered. Michael felt his chest tighten.

He didn't ask. Whatever Rudy had endured—he clearly wasn't ready to talk about it. And after hearing that… Michael didn't need to know the details to understand the weight of it.

"Well, technically you earned those phials, so don't thank us," he replied, trying to lighten the mood with a small, forced smile. "Oh, and here's the rest of your share."

He handed over a small bag of gold coins, along with another glowing phial.

Michael didn't offer the full reward—he knew Rudy wouldn't take it. And forcing it on him would feel like charity. This much, at least, he hoped Rudy would accept.

"Heh… my little brothers would've gone crazy seeing this much gold in one place," Rudy murmured, turning the pouch over in his hand, weighing it.

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