This newspaper, published by the Royal Newspaper Office, did indeed report on the sudden outbreak of rats, with hordes of them dying in streets and alleyways, their numbers numbering in the hundreds or even thousands. Beyond the detailed coverage of the current rat situation, the editors used sharp prose to point out the root cause of the disaster—the regent-led government’s excessive zeal in witch-hunting, with the massive piles of alien corpses accumulating on the city’s outskirts being the true reason for the rat infestation.
A food factory worker interviewed said their most important task recently was cleaning out the rats appearing in the factory day and night. Most rats were already half-dead when discovered, and people had to help put them out of their misery before tossing them into containers originally used for distributing goods, making it easier to clear out the warehouses. Whether in the bustling markets or docks, or in rarely-traversed alleys, piles of rats were stacked beside trash bins, bobbing up and down in filthy sewers.
Nature had no ability to deal with this遍地 death, only waiting for the city’s masters—humans—to clean it up.
The court acknowledged receiving countless complaints and hoped to resolve the series of problems caused by the rat infestation as soon as possible. It wasn’t just affecting people’s lives—after all, rumors are fearsome—it more seriously impacted the export of goods and the domestic sale of imported merchandise. Outsiders had already begun spreading rumors that every fish in the capital bore rat bite marks. The newspaper also published several interviews with persecuted mages, clearly indicating the court wanted to use this opportunity to elaborate at length on the regent’s misdeeds.
The situation grew worse and worse. Rats began stumbling out in droves from every dark corner, as if blinded by the scorching sunlight, staggering and collapsing to the ground, coughing up dark red blood, dying at people’s feet.
Because cleanup wasn’t timely, many rat carcasses swelled up as if inflated, emitting a strong stench of putrefaction. Countless people experienced the sensation of a rat suddenly darting under their feet while walking on the sidewalk. What was even harder to endure than the guilt of trampling a life was the feeling of stepping on soft yet disgustingly warm mud.
It was disgust, pure disgust, without a trace of guilt. As if these rats weren’t living creatures at all, but simply things existing solely to torment humans.
And all of this was unknown to Perl, who had shut herself away in the clinic and at home—until those three oblivious rats barged into her operating room, the place in this city where rats should least appear, making her realize what was happening in the capital.
But what concerned Perl most weren’t these reports. While waiting at home for Troy to get ready, she flipped through the newspaper repeatedly, producing a rustling sound.
The citizens of the capital, Perl included, had long grown accustomed to the power struggle between the Empress and the Regent. Rather, it was these rats crawling through the streets that truly affected urban life. Judging by how she casually tossed the newspaper aside in the end, she evidently hadn’t found the information she’d been looking for.
This was the information she’d been trying to uncover ever since Helmut died on her operating table.
Did these rats have anything to do with Helmut’s illness?
As far as she knew, there seemed to be four or five similar cases in the city already, yet the newspaper only rattled on endlessly about these rats because they truly affected everyone’s income, while remaining silent about those dead people.
After all, rats ran through the streets, but people only died in their own beds.
———————————
To this day, Perl still remembered the scene when Troy was brought onto the operating table.
In that era without anesthetics, many patients died from shock caused by pain. But this girl,凭借 extraordinary pain tolerance, bit through a wooden stick yet remained fully conscious throughout.
Perl later recalled that when she finished the surgery and looked up, she found Troy staring at her. That look still made her hair stand on end even now.
The reason Troy managed to endure was simple.
Because Perl was the only person in her short life who wanted her to live, so she poured all her effort into answering this stranger-sister’s expectations.
Like a newborn duckling imprinting on the first target it sees as its mother, like a stray animal drawn to a small act of kindness, the trust Troy displayed then wasn’t the result of rational thought—it was more like instinctive emotion.
At that time, Perl had just graduated, but as a doctor, she could tell at a glance where Troy’s wounds came from.
After the surgery, she found Troy’s parents under the pretext of studying post-operative recovery, and used her entire savings to take away this little mummy wrapped in bandages.
Then, using the excuses of clinic internship and needing a maid at home, she persuaded old Bremer to give Troy a room in the house, and she herself became Troy’s guardian.
At first, Perl told Troy not to be so formal, but in the end, she accepted the title “Doctor” that had persisted to this day.
As if Troy remained frozen in that moment forever—she would always be the “patient,” and she was willing to stay Perl’s “patient” for eternity.
Troy hummed a tune as she dried herself off, reminiscing about the past, then returned to her room.
She sniffed her shoulder, confirming the scent of fighting with rats had disappeared before nodding in satisfaction.
She had lived with Perl long enough to understand that Perl would never go into the city just to indulge her appetite—the so-called “eating something good” was just another excuse to take care of her.
There must be some important meeting or appointment that needed preparation. For that, Troy needed to tidy herself up properly; that plain white dress definitely wouldn’t do.
As she adjusted the collar of her pre-ironed shirt, she noticed a small glint of light in the corner of the room—a rat’s eye reflecting the lamplight.
It looked nervous, whiskers trembling, its round, black glass-bead-like eyes fixed on Troy, who was only wearing undergarments and a shirt. Even the rat itself seemed confused about why it was here.
“Shh.”
Troy raised a finger to her lips and blew gently at the rat, praying it wouldn’t let out a single squeak and alert Perl outside to something unusual.
As if understanding her meaning, the rat cooperatively looked away and began glancing around the room.
Troy sighed deeply, feeling regretful.
It seemed her entire day of hard work had completely failed to solve the rat problem in the house. But at least Perl didn’t know about it.
What she feared wasn’t Perl scolding her—it was this matter adding another worry to Perl’s plate.
Right now, Perl believed the house had been cleaned thoroughly, which was naturally the best outcome. She herself would also give her all tomorrow to make that a reality.
But at least for now, she needed to let this doctor have some peace and quiet. Given enough time, Perl could always calm herself like she did when facing a tangled mess of blood vessels and nerves on the operating table, arranging everything in perfect order.
“At least let her rest well in this house,” Troy murmured softly, her eyes filled with unconcealable worry. “What else can I do for her?”
Although Perl hadn’t said it clearly, Troy could tell that what happened to Perl today was definitely more complicated than just losing a patient.
People died every second on this land. Such things were unsurprising anywhere, and even more expected in a hospital.
Although Perl always said patients must never be allowed to die in the clinic, that was ultimately just a beautiful slogan. All hospitals having dedicated corpse transfer stations at the back entrance in cooperation with the Church was proof of that.
Perl gave her all for every patient, and regardless of the outcome, she never left herself with regrets. Without magical intervention, the patients who died under Perl’s care were all poor wretches destined to die anyway.
Although Perl’s voice was always calm and gentle when speaking to her, Troy knew her well.
Within that single sentence, she sensed powerful emotions sealed deep inside, and the most prominent among them was anxiety.
So what had plunged Perl into such anxiety? The last time she’d been in this restless state was when her adoptive father and mentor Bremer passed away…
“Ah!”
Lost in thought, Troy suddenly felt a piercing pain in her left ankle, letting out a startled cry and instinctively hopping on one foot.
Looking down, that previously dazed rat was quickly scurrying away from her feet.
It had left two pitch-black puncture wounds on Troy’s ankle, with thin streams of blood seeping out.
During her childhood, Troy had survived surgeries that could kill an adult without anesthesia. She’d always believed her pain tolerance was her most outstanding talent. If she wanted, she could even extinguish burning charcoal with her palm without letting out a whimper.
But this small wound left by the rat gave her a sensation beyond pain… a very bad feeling.
A strange, cold current seemed to surge from the wound into her body, passing directly through her heart, reaching her brain, as if triggering some switch that unleashed an emotion called fear.
This fear churned her stomach violently. In that instant, her body went limp, and she leaned against the bedside, no longer having the strength to remain standing.
By the time Perl’s hurried footsteps reached the doorway, she had finally pulled herself back up.
The earlier coldness and fear suddenly vanished. Everything in the room returned to normal, the fireplace on the wall glowing bright and warm, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.
“Troy?” Perl’s voice came from outside the door. “I heard a sound.”
“I’m fine…”
Troy glanced down at the earlier wound. Though the holes were still there, they had stopped bleeding, leaving only two dark red blood trails. A wound of this degree would heal on its own soon enough even if left alone.
“Just got out of the bath—my feet slipped.”
“Then I’ll go call for the carriage. Hurry up.”
“Okay.”
Perl’s footsteps faded from the doorway, and Troy let out a sigh of relief. She took out alcohol from the wall cabinet in the corner of the room. Though it would heal on its own, Troy still followed Perl’s teachings and cleaned the wound thoroughly, then carefully wrapped it in gauze.
She knew rats might carry infectious diseases, but in this era, the likelihood of infection after timely treatment wasn’t high.
After bandaging the wound, Troy changed into a black suit similar to Perl’s.
Unlike Perl’s cloak, she put on a wide black overcoat, cinched it with a leather belt, reached both hands behind her neck, and her beautiful emerald-green hair cascaded down from behind her collar like a waterfall.
Then she tucked her gold-rimmed glasses into her chest pocket, put on bright white gloves, grabbed the black umbrella by the door, and stepped into the rainy night. The carriage had already been waiting at the entrance for quite some time.
“The patient I mentioned earlier is Helmut, a dockworker,” Perl said, pulling documents from her briefcase at her feet and handing them to Troy. “This is the medical record I just wrote. Take a look.”
“Thyroid swelling and hardening, collapse, burning pain in the internal organs, spots appearing on the body…” Troy quickly flipped through the medical record, which contained symptoms recorded in Perl’s own handwriting along with some simple sketches. “Could it be iodine deficiency? No—Rumel Lake is a saltwater lake connected to the ocean, so iodine deficiency is impossible.”
“Don’t play dumb, Troy.” Perl sighed softly. “If this is the result of your years of study, then forget about next year—you might need to spend another three years in the study before you can enter the clinic.”
“…But that virus should have gone extinct long ago!”
“So you came to the same conclusion I did.”
“Doctor, the case you wrote matches the textbooks exactly. I’ve seen similar records in an old book—it was so oxidized it was practically turning to paper dust.”
“Yes, it’s hard to believe. But that’s how it is.” Perl said flatly.
Once they entered the city proper, the carriage slowed down, and the surrounding noise of people grew louder. Troy didn’t respond—her attention was captured by the scene outside the window.
White Robes were everywhere along both sides of the streets. They stood in groups of two or three at intersections, gripping long halberds, watching every passerby with vigilance.
“Troy?” Perl turned to look at her, her tone slightly puzzled.
Troy took a deep breath, because uttering this word required courage: “…Death’s Decree.”
True, rats affected everyone’s life, like those cleaning staff Perl had fired, but this level of rat infestation was still acceptable.
Yet once the words “Death’s Decree” echoed in the carriage, terrible images flashed before Troy’s eyes.
She wasn’t an optimist. Before meeting Perl, she had endured suffering most people would never encounter in a lifetime, so she always considered the worst-case scenario first.
Troy had seen corpses, but the meaning of one or two corpses was completely different from tens of thousands. The former was merely death; the latter was hopeless disaster.
Could anyone truly imagine the sight of tens of thousands of corpses from written records alone?
A thousand people could fill a theater. Troy still remembered how crowded the theater felt when she queued up to watch a play.
Three hundred years ago, the lives Death’s Decree took from this land were equivalent to killing everyone in tens of thousands of such theaters and stacking them together.
Such imagination served a purpose—it helped Troy better understand what this term truly meant. After all, a person’s death only carried weight when observed by others; corpses recorded on paper were merely the residue of imagination.
Though shrouded in the vortex of power, the capital remained the center of the world. But if the great plague of three hundred years ago truly appeared again…
The sky would forever be shrouded in dark clouds.
Foul, thick smoke continuously rose from woodpiles in open spaces, while dying patients and rotting corpses could be seen at every street corner.
The powerful would build high walls to secure their own sanctuary, but they couldn’t block the endless wailing day and night…
“But we can’t draw conclusions yet,” Perl said. “No one can. This could also be some other epidemic affecting only a few unlucky souls.”
Perl’s consistently cold tone proved so timely, pulling Troy’s young and imaginative mind back to reality—as effective as grabbing hold of a piece of ice when on the verge of falling asleep.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“If I could conduct more dissections on Helmut’s corpse, perhaps I could reach a more definitive conclusion.” Perl sighed. “But after a patient dies, Church regulations dictate that doctors no longer have the authority to dispose of the body—it becomes God’s property. I could only return him to his wife, Isabel, I believe her name was? Afterward, Isabel will send the body to the Church for burial.”
“So you asked me to catch rats today for that research too?”
“Exactly, but I examined that rat thoroughly this afternoon and still couldn’t reach a conclusion.” Perl continued. “Now let me test you: how did humanity solve Death’s Decree in the past?”
“What solved it wasn’t medicine, but a legendary hero,” Troy said helplessly. “Historical records state that plague was spread by a demon king called the Lord of Flies. In the end, the hero rode the sea serpent Leviathan to Sardinia and killed that monster, and only then did the plague disappear… Humanity never actually defeated Death’s Decree head-on—they just waited for it to vanish on its own, or waited for a hero to descend from heaven with miraculous magic to save the world.”
“But do we still have a hero capable of solving all this now? Even the capable mages have been burned to death. What can we possibly rely on?” Perl smiled silently.
Perl’s words reminded Troy of what she’d seen on the streets earlier—those mages being escorted away, the corpses on the gallows. In times like these, even mentioning magic was practically courting death.
“I hope Empress Ailian can reclaim her power soon. She’s a merciful sovereign. If it were her, she’d definitely find a way to deal with this plague.”
“Don’t place your hopes on those high and mighty folks, Troy.” Perl’s tone carried a hint of mockery. “Without the Empress’s tacit approval, the witch-hunts could never have gotten this intense. I suspect both she and the Regent have reaped considerable benefits from this wave.”
“What benefits?” Troy was somewhat bewildered.
“Think about the Mage Association’s situation and you’ll understand.” Perl sighed. “Over the past century, mages finally realized their political influence and began banding together. This put the Association at odds with the government from its very inception, but because of their monopoly on magic, the nobility couldn’t afford to break ties with them.”
Troy nodded thoughtfully.
“But things are different now.” Perl continued. “Under the banner of witch-hunting, those wealthy mages were either killed or imprisoned, and their property naturally found its way into certain people’s pockets. Do you think such good fortune would be enjoyed by the royal bastard alone?”
“So Empress Ailian also…”
“That’s how politics works, Troy. Surface-level mercy and inner scheming were never in conflict.” Perl’s voice was as calm as if she were describing the weather. “That Empress Ailian might recover her power, might lead the Empire to prosperity, but when facing a plague, none of that is worth a damn.”
“Then if it really is Death’s Decree, what should we do?”
“I don’t know.”
Perl’s answer plunged the carriage into an icy silence. Fortunately, their destination was right nearby—an old tavern with dated decor.
But just as Perl was about to get out of the carriage, Troy’s words froze her mid-motion.
“Doctor, before we left, I was bitten by a rat.” Troy seemed to have made up her mind. Her face was pale, dense sweat covering her cheeks, yet she still pulled up her pant leg with trembling hands, revealing the gauze-wrapped wound. “I thought you should know.”
After speaking, Troy pressed her lips tightly together. She found herself struggling to suppress an urge to burst out laughing—an urge so strong it startled her.
No, not just laughing—she even wanted to throw her head back and howl with laughter, just like those drunkards outside completely plastered.
Life really was unfair.
That’s what Troy thought.