Von Kro's Invite!

The more Luther mulled it over, the more likely his suspicions seemed.

After all, information traveled faster among the nobles than it ever did among ordinary folk. Rumors, secrets, and dark dealings moved like whispers through their circles, kept far from the prying ears of commoners. Hailey had mentioned that the Berman family had fled town, terrified of the blood plague, yet the Von Kro family or "Von Clay," as some locals mispronounced it; had marched right into town, fully aware of the plague's presence.

It didn't make sense at first, but the more he thought about it, the more chilling the possibilities became.

"The Von Kro family could have come here knowing about the blood plague because… they have a way to deal with it," he murmured to himself, a cold shiver running down his spine. If that were true, then perhaps the upper-class families, the noble elite, had monopolized the treatment for the blood plague. Maybe they were even deliberately withholding it, letting the disease spread unchecked among the commoners.

But for what reason?

The answer that formed in his mind made his blood run cold. What if they needed the blood plague to spread in order to find… something? Perhaps they were even hunting the source of the plague itself, hoping to harness it for some dark purpose.

Luther's hands shook slightly as he stroked his chin, considering this sinister theory. Was it possible that the nobles were intentionally spreading the blood plague, sacrificing ordinary lives to achieve their own ends? His thoughts spiraled down darker paths, imagining the plague as a weapon wielded by the powerful, a tool to flush out something hidden, something they desperately wanted.

The source of the epidemic? Some creature born of the plague? Or something even stranger, buried deep within the disease itself?

The implications were terrifying. Luther's back was slick with cold sweat as he considered the monstrous possibility. He didn't fully understand this world yet, its tangled webs of power, the murky underbelly hidden behind polished facades. But from what he'd seen; from the twisted creatures that haunted dark corners to the ghouls that emerged from forgotten graves, this world was full of dangers beyond his understanding.

"If they're really behind this," he muttered, swallowing the growing dread, "then it's a matter far graver than just an epidemic."

This Town could very well be on the brink of annihilation, its people nothing more than pawns in a deadly game of plague and power.

By the time Luther returned to the clinic, night had fallen. The shadows stretched long and ominous, draping the empty streets in eerie silence. He had spent hours combing through the town, searching for clues, and his efforts had not been in vain. In a few forgotten alleys, he'd found traces of struggle; disturbed dirt, broken bricks, and the unmistakable signs of battle.

And then there were the corpses. The dried-up, shriveled remains of ghouls lay discarded in shadowed corners, their bodies curled up like dried animal carcasses, left to rot in the open air. Yet even these ghastly sights were overshadowed by something else he found, a bullet lodged in a crack in a nearby wall.

He turned the bullet over in his fingers, feeling its cold, metallic surface. This wasn't just any stray bullet; it was proof that armed forces were actively hunting something in the town. It confirmed his suspicions: someone was hunting the infected, those who had transformed into twisted creatures by the plague. They were even targeting creatures like the one that had parasitized Carol's body.

He recalled the mangled body of a strange creature he'd seen a few days back, half-eaten by wild dogs in the outskirts. It had looked unsettlingly similar to the parasitic larvae that had taken over Igor's host. All signs pointed to a grim reality: there was a systematic effort to contain, or perhaps exploit, this plague. The Von Kro family, or whoever they truly were, might very well be orchestrating it.

"Luther! Grandpa Soros is here to see you again!"

Harley's voice called out, breaking through his thoughts. From the doorway of the clinic, she waved, her young face alight with a mixture of curiosity and mischief.

Luther's fingers closed around the bullet, tucking it into his inner pocket. He straightened, putting on a neutral expression as he approached the clinic, his mind racing even as he forced a smile. The Von Kro family was clearly involved in something dark, and Soros, with his polite yet calculating demeanor, was likely here to continue their game of subtle manipulation.

But this time, Luther was ready.

At the Entrance of the Clinic

Soros spotted a shadowy figure emerging from the fog-draped path leading up to the clinic. He straightened his suit, brushed off imaginary dust from his sleeve, and, with a firm expression, extended his hand. "Dr. Luther," he began, voice smooth but with an edge of urgency, "it's good to see you again. I've come today hoping that you might assist me with a rather... unique matter."

The figure, Dr. Luther, stepped into the light, his hood casting a faint shadow across his face. He methodically peeled off his thick, black rhino leather gloves, revealing hands that were both strong and precise; hands of a surgeon. He studied Soros with a gaze as sharp as his scalpel, then reached out, clasping Soros's hand briefly before letting go.

"Assist you?" Luther's tone was measured, skeptical. It wasn't often that people came looking for him with this kind of intensity.

"Yes, Doctor," Soros replied, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "There is a... complicated surgery that only someone of your skill could perform. And we will ensure you have access to certain specialized instruments to facilitate the operation."

Luther raised an eyebrow, his curiosity tempered with caution. Soros continued, "And, of course, we are prepared to compensate you handsomely. Five hundred shillings. It's a fair price, wouldn't you agree?"

The mention of such a sum made Luther pause. It was a small fortune. A figure that would not only secure his clinic but perhaps even transform his life. But he sensed that this wasn't just any operation. The way Soros spoke, the vague descriptions, the urgency; all of it hinted at something much darker.

After a contemplative silence, Luther finally met Soros's gaze, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Such a high price," he mused, "for a single operation? Are you certain I'm the only one in town qualified for this?"

Soros's expression grew serious. "Dr. Luther," he said solemnly, "you are indeed the only one here with the expertise needed. I remember watching your work on that wound last year; your skills are unparalleled. The precision, the steady hands; it was as if you were channeling the knowledge of a master surgeon."

Luther felt a twinge of pride but quickly masked it. The truth was, his surgical skills were a relic, passed down from a lost civilization, a knowledge he rarely flaunted. Yet he hesitated. He didn't know Soros well, not enough to trust him completely. What if this was a trap or some clandestine scheme that would drag him into unforeseen danger?

Just as he was about to voice his refusal, Soros seemed to anticipate his reluctance. Leaning closer, he softened his tone. "Doctor, let me assure you, this isn't just about surgery. What I really need from you... is to retrieve something of immense value. If you succeed, my lady herself will see to it that you're generously rewarded."

Luther's interest was piqued, but he kept his expression neutral. "Retrieve something?" he repeated, his mind racing. Could it be related to the rumors he'd heard, whispers about a mysterious illness spreading through town? Could they have uncovered the source of the plague?

He wrestled with himself. This sounded dangerous, but he was tempted. He'd long been curious about the cause of the strange symptoms he'd seen in patients recently. Here, perhaps, was a chance to find answers. But the risks were high, and as a doctor, he valued stability above all else. Was he really willing to gamble everything?

After a moment of hesitation, he looked back at Soros. "If I'm to help you retrieve this... item, I'll need to know more about this 'generous reward' you mentioned." His eyes narrowed, betraying his curiosity and his wariness.

Soros chuckled, a glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. "Doctor Luther," he said, leaning in conspiratorially, "you may not have heard of the extraordinary, but... let's just say that if you succeed, you will gain the friendship of a quasi-superhuman. Not something many men can claim."

The term 'extraordinary' struck a chord with Luther. Though he hadn't encountered any such individuals, he'd heard tales; stories of people with abilities beyond the realm of normal humans. The chance to forge such a connection was indeed enticing. Even if he didn't fully understand, the allure of something greater, something beyond the everyday, tugged at his curiosity.

Trying to mask his excitement, he nodded with feigned indifference. "Very well, Mr. Soros. I accept." Without waiting for further persuasion, he turned on his heel and headed back into his clinic, where he donned his old beak-like mask and long coat; a uniform that both protected him from contagion and conveniently concealed a hidden dagger.

Once prepared, Luther returned, giving a quick word to his assistant, Harley, to watch over the clinic in his absence. Then he climbed into the dark carriage Soros had brought, its interior cloaked in shadow. As the horses began to trot, he peered out of the window, watching the familiar streets give way to more affluent parts of town.

The carriage rolled to a halt before a sprawling manor on the edge of the town's center. As Luther stepped out, he took a moment to observe the grand estate, noting each entry point and any potential escape routes. A doctor's habit, perhaps, or just a man's instinct when walking into the unknown.

Two attendants awaited him at the manor's entrance, bowing slightly as they approached. "Dr. Luther," one of them greeted respectfully, "the young lady has instructed us to escort you directly to the operating room."

Luther nodded, gripping the leather handle of his medical bag a little tighter. As they led him down a corridor lined with portraits of noble ancestors, he felt an ominous weight settle on his shoulders. Whatever lay ahead would be far from ordinary.

He took a deep breath. If there was one thing he knew about the extraordinary, it was that to achieve anything truly remarkable, one had to be willing to step into the unknown; and sometimes, to walk a razor's edge between life and death.