Uphir

I returned home with that special, thick fatigue that accumulates not over a day, but over years. The city air was heavy with exhaust fumes and the pre-storm sultryness, and the familiar route through the network of alleys seemed the only refuge from the roar of the avenues. The shadows here were longer, thicker, and you could disappear into them.

That's why I was hardly surprised to notice a hunched figure in one of those shadows, in a niche between the gloomy brick walls. Homeless people are not uncommon here. But my legs slowed, and something twitched in my chest—not pity, no. Rather, a nagging, obsessive curiosity, as if someone had called me by a name I didn't remember.

I took a step to the side. And another.

At first, I thought it was a teenager in some silly theatrical costume: sharp-angled wings, as if made of hard black velvet, dragged limply along the asphalt, collecting dust and cigarette butts. Then I made out a slender, almost frail figure in tattered, oddly cut clothing, resembling a ripped waistcoat. Black, carelessly sharp strands of hair fell across his face. And between them, a dim but undeniable glow. A circle hovering a few centimeters above his head, like a molten ring of embers. A halo? But red. Ominous.

I froze, trying to comprehend this surreal puzzle. And at that moment, it raised its head.

The face was surprisingly, deceptively pretty, with a sharp chin and large eyes. But those eyes were the color of old, caked blood, and the light in them wasn't reflected, but emanated from within—tired, ancient, searching. Thin, intricate scars shone generously against the pale skin—not from wounds, but rather like a complex, dark tattoo, telling its own terrible story.

Our gazes met. There was neither malice nor pleading in his. There hung the heavy, indifferent weariness of a master cast into a ditch. And a question. A deep, silent question to the entire world, to the heavens, to the depths of hell, and now—to me, a random passerby in a rumpled coat.

It didn't move, only slightly casting those glowing embers of eyes in my direction. It seemed as if it would hoarsely hiss something in a forgotten language, and the shadows would close in to drag me away.

But instead, his lips, thin and pale, twitched in a barely perceptible grimace. It wasn't a smile. It was the shadow of a smile, a familiar mask hiding something else.

You should keep watching

Came the voice. It was quiet, slightly hoarse, but it vibrated with a strange, honeyed, playful note, completely at odds with the appearance and circumstances.

Or do you, mortal, have a penchant for helping... patients in distress?

It glanced around its "office" - the dirty wall, the broken bottle, its own soiled wings. Its tone was laced with sarcasm, but deep in those hellish eyes, a spark of genuine, almost childish curiosity seemed to flicker.

I wonder what you'll choose? Will you pass by like everyone else? Or will you take a risk?

I stood, paralyzed by this absurdity. A demon. In my alley. Lost, powerful, dangerous, but somehow looking as if he, the Supreme Physician of Hell, was frankly cold and awkward. The combination of menace and some absurd vulnerability was deafening.

And to my horror and amazement, I heard my own voice, despite all self-preservation instincts, ask:

Patients? Are you... what, a doctor?

The creature tilted its head to the side, and its smoldering halo flickered, casting alarming red reflections on the walls. The playfulness in its gaze mingled with something sharp, hungry—the interest of a predator in unexpected prey, or the curiosity of a scientist in a new, unexplored phenomenon.

Oh

It said softly, and in that single sound, echoes of the millennia-old hospital wards of the Underworld seemed to ring out.

This is the very beginning of the anamnesis. I see you have a diagnostic mind. Come closer. Don't be afraid, I... accept without insurance

It reached toward its niche, as if offering a place beside it in this filth. It was a gesture at once flirtatious, mocking, and incredibly, heartbreakingly lonely. I realized the point of no return had been passed. I saw it. And now, whether I liked it or not, I was drawn into its story. The story of a fallen Doctor, who healed with pain and who was now being treated by life with the same merciful cruelty.