Chapter 3 - Treasure Hunting

A man in his late thirties, wearing a stained and tattered lab coat, frantically sifted through a disorganized pile of documents, muttering to himself. His frustration grew with each passing moment, and soon, he began tossing papers across the room, smashing nearby bottles and glasses in his frenzy. Over and over, he mumbled, "Where is it? Where is it?"

Hearing the commotion, a boy of about ten cautiously peeked through the open lab door. He hesitated, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and curiosity as he took in the chaotic scene. The boy's voice trembled as he asked, "What are you looking for?"

The man's head snapped toward the boy, his expression wild and unsettling. Grabbing the boy by the shoulders, he exclaimed, "The cure! The cure to the root of all diseases and disabilities known and unknown to mankind. The herb gifted by the gods themselves!"

Though frightened, the boy's curiosity and longing burned brighter than his fear. "Do you know where it is?" he asked, his voice steady despite his trembling hands.

 "Will it really cure everything?"

The man's gaze dropped to the boy's crutches and frail legs. A manic laugh erupted from him as he clutched his sides. "Ah, you must be the McQuoid boy. Balint, right? I've heard about your rare genetic disorder. They even named it after you, didn't they? Young Master Balint McQuoid."

Balint's face hardened, his eyes blazing with anger. "Answer my question! Dr. Jones," he demanded. "If you want financial support from my family, tell me if it's real!"

Dr. Jones chuckled, a strange smile creeping across his face. "As you can see," he said, gesturing to the chaos around him,

"I'm searching for it myself. And yes, according to these records," he continued, holding up a tattered document, "this herb could cure everything. It repairs the body and strengthens immunity beyond anything we've ever seen."

Balint's small hand reached out, clutching the man's arm with surprising strength.

"Then find it," he said, his voice filled with determination.

"If you need resources, my father will provide them. Just bring it to me."

.

.

.

"Sir."

"Master Balint."

A young man in his early twenties woke up from his memories at the sound of his assistant and butler addressing him. He gestured for the assistant to speak.

"Sir, we've received government permission and local police support to explore the woods near Bacchlien," the assistant reported, handing over a document. "We've assembled a team of researchers and company security personnel to accompany the local police. They'll begin the expedition tomorrow at 8 a.m."

Balint nodded weakly but suddenly coughed violently, spitting blood into a bucket hastily provided by the butler. The butler quickly administered medicine to ease his pain.

"Sir," the assistant said with concern, "do you truly believe the herb Ganoderma lucidum can be found in those uncharted woods?"

Balint, his voice raspy and strained, dismissed the butler with a wave of his hand. He took a moment to steady his breath, his eyes heavy with a desperation that mirrored the weight of his words. "Isa," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "you know why I'm willing to risk everything. For all my life, I've seen my neighbour's kids and my cousins play… while I lean next to the window and watching them… seen how my family loses their hope one by one"

he gasped for breath and continued, "I'm watching the world is being prepared to move on without me. My body grows weaker day by day, my family's pity feels like poison, and my name is being whispered as a tragedy waiting to happen."

He leaned forward, his frail body barely able to support the motion, but his gaze was piercing, "I've nothing left but this hope—this tiny, impossible hope that the herb is real… That it can… save me...What choice do I have? To sit here and rot while the world forgets I ever existed? No!... Never!... If there's even the faintest chance, I must and will take it."

Balint's voice cracked as he continued. "But I can't do it myself. Look at me." He gestured to his frail form, his hands trembling. "I need you, Isa. You've always been the one to stand by me when no one else would. Everyone else has given up on me—my business partners, my friends, even my family. Only you still believe in me and is still standing with me. Help me one more time. Bring back that herb...bring back my life."

Isabella hesitated, her heart aching at his plea. "Dr. Jones went missing in those woods six years ago," she said softly. "The government delayed granting permission for so long because of the unusually high number of disappearances there. Even when people entered illegally, no one ever returned. The authorities are only allowing this now because of your influence. I can't help but fear... what if the same fate awaits us?"

Balint's expression softened, and despite his desperation, a faint, almost wistful smile touched his lips. "If the same fate awaits us," he murmured, "then at least I'll know we tried. Isn't that better than waiting for the inevitable?"

later, in her quarters, Isabella packed her belongings methodically. Among her things, she found an old photograph of a young girl and a boy with crutches, both laughing. She kissed the image of the boy before setting it down gently beside her bag. "If you want the treasure," she murmured to herself, "I'll find it for you—even if it's hidden in the depths of hell just to see you smile at me one more time"