The Master’s Charade

Ethan shook his head, barely able to hide his disbelief.

'So, they're just a bunch of con artists?'

The old man straightened slightly, his frail frame stiffening as he let out a weary sigh. His expression was grave, as if he carried the weight of some great truth.

Greg's mother clutched his arm desperately. "Doctor… please, tell me—can you save him?"

The old man didn't answer right away. Instead, he cast a meaningful glance at his two 'assistants.'

One of them, a younger man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped forward, his voice tinged with regret. "If only you had called us a few days earlier… there might have been hope. Now, all we can do is try our best. But…" He rubbed his fingers together subtly, the message clear.

Before he could finish, the old man lifted a wrinkled hand, waving him off.

The other assistant quickly chimed in. "The master says he won't accept payment…"