"He'll be awake soon," the blond man informed while undoing his ponytail, then adjusted the high collar of his shirt. "Fortunately, I bring this." He picked up a black leather briefcase he referred to. 

It was a relief for Haren; and perhaps for the unconscious Kôra who was tucked into his bed. To this information —with an eased face, he closed Kôra's room door gently. A moment of peace for both of them after the storm. 

"Will the potion cause adverse effects?" he asked while leading the guest to the living room.

"It won't; I neutralized most of it. The rest will be taken care of by his own ability," the man clarified. "He should be kept well-rested. Seek medical attention immediately when anything goes wrong."

"Well, you're a doctor, so should I call you?"

"I'm not," he answered nonchalantly, flicking a stray strand of hair from his face.

“Still, it’s such a lucky coincidence," Haren said. He did not mind: his guest might be still a student, apprentice, or even other member of medical professionals. 

The redhead man's hand gestures invited the guest to sit. The blond man sat across Haren as pointed, on the least deflated part of the living room sofa. His briefcase leaned near his legs, his coat was off on the hanger. The minimalistic room now seemed more cramped.

"I’m very grateful that you come here and help us," Haren thanked.

"That's nothing," he replied to Haren who was heading towards the kitchen. 

Haren came back with a tea set, while muttering how chaotic everything was. He put a circular ceramic mug on the table. The festively painted mug invited his guest to drink; Tôryaemaen art is known to be intricately vivid. That steaming special beverage was a  premium herbal tea with a plant resin infusion; ten times more expensive than what this household usually serves. “Please have a drink, Lampblack.”

“Just call me Keane, Mr. Tsiyu.” The man smiled, appreciating the colorful swirls from the dissolved solids. Combination of chypre and leathery aromas saturated the room. “I got this address from an original member who resides in the nearby district.”

"I’m Haren, then,” he said before moving to another topic. “Sorry for the trouble, you must've gone through some traveling here”

“I started moving to this city about one year ago,” Keane said. He lifted the tea mug; a black ring with three diamond-shaped red crystals was visible on his middle finger. “Now I hold both Maiyean and Zöthei citizenship,” he respectively mentioned this regio and another one in the northern hemisphere.

“One year? That’s not so long before the earthquake happened,” Haren remarked.

“It’s a bit late to say, but I’m deeply sorry for the loss,” Keane sounded empathetic, the gaze from his upwardly angled eyes softened. “I have notified all the other members, including her family on Earth.”

Haren sighed. “It was so sudden, we lost Meara and everything with her,” he lamented. “As it's tied to her, Polat's seal has been significantly weakening since her death. I just need to keep him and everyone around him safe first, while the next plan is to retrieve the remains of things sealed in the house. . ."

Keane's eyes widened with interest.

"But Kôra. . ."

»»-------------¤-------------««

Mother?! Father?!

The mention of those names  awakened Kôra from his unconsciousness. He gasped deeply to reactivate his weary body;  that potion was a potent one to give this effect. The fragrant scent of Keane's tea welcomed him. For seconds Kôra could only lay static on his bed, the remainder of fatigue weighed him down. While mustering his strength, he observed the changes that happened. The wounds on his hand have already dressed, it did not hurt as he expected to.

The most important thing was Uncle's conversation with the visitor. It was unmistakable by his voice that it was the ominous man. The walls were nearly as thin as a cement board and nobody knew he was awake already, this was the perfect chance to eavesdrop. He forced himself to stand; get closer.

“Right. What happened?” Kôra heard the stranger referring to him in the talk. “His hand was lacerated; the most worrisome thing is the potion. An attack?"

"It was me."

Kôra winced.

"Oh."

“It’s my mistake and he got furious,” Haren answered with a sigh, “Though it looks unsafe, I prepared the formula and tested the safety myself. This mix is not yet perfected, but I did what I can do," he continued.

"A potent antagonistic potion with plant oil as a base?"

As shallow as Kôra's head dipped into the surface of potion-making, he grasps some core pieces of it. Potions are spells sealed into any liquid at core. The spells must be sealed one by one; either by directly sealing it, infusing a spell paper inside, or by mixing it with another potion. Properties of the final products are determined by both the base liquid and the spells used.

Higher purity liquid bases such as distilled water or pure ethanol will guarantee a better potion, as it is more truthful in preserving the nature of the liquid to deliver the desired effects. Water is the most common base as it is cheaper and easier to control, yet amongst the easiest to lose its effect. Oil base guarantees longer lasting effect for a lower dose, and has a higher retention. For other needs, uncommon bases such as liquid gasses and metals are used. Toxicity derived from the base liquid may be upscaled or downscaled in the end product depending on the spells used. However, if the matter of the base liquid changes its state; the potion's potential will be altered too.

Type of the spell sealed into the base matters the most as it will be a strong determinant of a potion's characteristics. The first spell is called the determinator spell. Antagonistic potions are those which determinator spells are meant to bring harm to the subject. While the end result is not always harmful, extreme caution is needed as it tends to be more potent and causes severe side effects.

"It is a good base to work with; else the effect will be rapidly degraded by his ability," Haren justified. "If the base was water, I need to make it more potent and it's unsafe."

"Instead of it, have you done something else about his defect?” the guy toned down his volume, he sounded grimmer.

That sentence rang in Kôra’s brain, it must be related to what his uncle said before. What was the defect they were looking for?

"Maybe try to recreate Polat's seal," the guest suggested.

There was a pause of momentary silence.

“I can’t do it. . . I can’t seal like him! I can't do what Polat did just yet,” Haren tensely explained, mentioning the kid’s father. He sounded weak, like being interrogated.

Why did Uncle sound so pressured about Father? Father was nice and cared about him, thought Kôra. The kid tiptoed outside his room to get closer, perhaps he could peek too.

"Well, how did you make your potion?”

“Using various sources,” Haren put the five vials he used on the table. Kôra could tell because of the consecutive clanking noise of the glass. “These two are completely legal, I don’t know about these."

“You ought to be very careful with that,” Keane suggested, in a tone that sounded more like a critique. "I'm not practicing medicine, but a strong potion like that could damage his organs in the long run."

"I mixed a channeling potion in and drank the complementary potion to connect it to me, that his sealed ability would affect me more if leaked and so do the potion side effects," Haren elaborated.

Kôra clenched his fist. What? Uncle's health is fickle to start with.

"Side effects so far are dysgeusia, nausea, nightmares and hallucinations," he further mentioned. "Kôra recently complained about how bad his food tastes, so I tried to make a new formula."

"I never knew if any of these causes hallucination," Keane disagreed. Kôra caught a glimpse of him examining the potions, to that boy the stranger sounded knowledgeable.

"So, this is real. . . Yeah?" Haren muttered. He turned his face back twice as if he was checking something behind him. Kôra hid his jutting head behind the wall to avoid detection, then peek again.

Haren shook his head, he put his palm on his forehead. "I can't do anything except antagonistic potions; as Polat said, my potions are meant to kill people. It's just how my ability works."

"Don't you care too much about the dead people's words than the living one?"

"I'm worried that if I reveal this to him he won't trust me anymore. Polat entrusted me with a thing I can't do; to laugh and watch me suffer. Nobody but me is available to take care of him, my family dislike him because he is a foundling. I have no escape," lamented Haren. It was a dissonance for Kôra hearing the man talking with such a terrorized voice. His movements of checking who was behind or besides him added to the concern. "The boy. . . How he talks resembles him. How he attacked me with a trick. . . His manner starts to resemble him, it's suffocating. What am I even doing here? I should go back."

"I don't dismiss your mental struggle and I'm sorry to hear that you can't get a proper treatment due to it being a curse," Keane gave words of understanding, his tone was of a serene breeze. "However, you should realize your approach was damaging to his well being. Do you have any unresolved issue with Polat?"

"I wish I could do something about it, but Kôra. . . What if one day something bad happened to Kôra? It's better if I am the one who did it," he answered. "Polat is watching me. . . I am weak. . . Maybe he is watching me to send me straight back to that place again."

"That's a lot," Keane noted before sipping his tea.

Kôra's head would spin if he kept trying to figure out how the man could switch from sounding sympathetic and insensitive in seconds like a moving swing. Yet, the more concerning thing was his uncle and this other side the boy had just discovered. It already hurt his head when thinking about it. It hurted him.

I never knew that he meant good. Why is Uncle like this? What happened to him and father? 

He recalled his incandescent assaults on his uncle. Reminiscing it felt surreal; as if something else took over his body.

I should have given him a chance to listen. Instead I am being selfish.

The pressure on his chest radiated, the guilt finally dropped its weight. Kôra stepped out of his hiding and walked towards Haren. Staring expressionless at the two men with his eyes widened, glistened.

I must apologize.

“Uncle. . ." that shaky voice broke the conversation. Kôra's breathing was deep and hurried, his right chest pounding. The heart is supposed to be more left-aligned as the boy had learned about. Strangely to him — in these anxious times, the unpleasant cold always started on the right.

"Oh, you're awake."

“ Kôra, I—” Haren's sentence was cut by shock.

“I apologize, I should have listened and not attacked Uncle!” the kid said his abrupt apology. He knelt and prostrated in front of Haren’s feet, begging forgiveness.

“This is my fault Kôra, you don’t have to feel bad,” Haren appeased the kid, getting him up.

“But I. . . I hurt. . . I hurt Uncle. Uncle almost die and had no pulse,” Kôra said, trembling. Guilt is apparent on his pale face, his clothes were soaked wet with sweat. "I do deeply regret for hurting Uncle and misbehaving God's order, I could unnecessarily go to kill, it is a sin that God will wants my life for to repent."

Keane silently chuckled when the last part was said.

“That thing wasn’t me, it’s a dummy I prepared for emergencies,” Haren pointed at a mound of crumpled spell papers sitting near an obscure corner, as tall as the man himself. What Kôra faced was never Haren. That explained how it felt off: weaker and inhumanly frigid. 

Both Kôra and Keane simultaneously looked at the mound, before going back to Haren. The former expressed more bewilderment on his face, he never knew what his uncle was capable of.

 "If one of us needs to kill ourselves to repent, it's me," Haren reflected, much to Kôra's disheartened face. "You've been put through hell and I'm the demon who makes it worse, not your uncle. You wouldn't hurt yourself if it wasn't me."

"Excuse me, can we please skip this?" Keane broke the silence. "I know it's a cultural thing, but we prefer you two to be alive."

Haren nodded. “Please sit down, Kôra,” he patted the sofa next to him.

“Yes, Uncle.” Kôra took a seat on the same sofa as Haren but left some distant space. The reticent feeling has not recovered it seems. Kôra noticed the other man who was on his phone, probably skipping the family drama.

“Who. . . Who is that man, uncle?”

“He’s Keane, the youngest son of the Lampblack family—our family friends,” Haren introduced the man who smiled and waved his hand playfully in response. “I thought you two had met before.”

“My parents told me about a family from earth we are close to, but I do not remember you in specific,” Kôra stated straight to the man, ignoring his friendly facade.

“I remember carrying you as a baby,” Keane told him with a grin. “You cried too much, I almost threw you.”

What he said was consistent enough, this young man might have been a teenager when he was born. No matter how much he dislikes it, Kôra did cry a lot as a baby.

“Your accent is strange but familiar, did you come from the same land with Mother?” Kôra asked the man another question, confirming his speculation. He could not recall what accent is that nor where he heard that.

“I didn't, I’m from England,” answered Keane.

Kôra nodded. He might have a connection with Mother, I remember England is close by the map.

“So. . ." Haren opened a more dire talk. “As Kôra is here and listening, I wanna ask both of you about something urgent.”

“Cooperation with the organization? Request for protection? Leave the arrangement to me! I will support you,” Keane talked with confidence. To both of the inhabitants, he sounded like he was one of the higher ups.

“That’s great to hear,” Haren approved. “There are a handful of things to do: I need to clean up and repair my house, work, and improve my potion while looking for a better way in the meantime. More importantly. . ." His sentence hung, his face grew longing. "I need a peace of mind."

Keane nodded.

"So please take care of Kôra. After what happened, I think it's best for him to live far away from me. I can't take it anymore for now."

Kôra was sitting stiffly, not blinking at all. His breath became heavy. Living under this man’s guard? What is wrong with Uncle?!

"Excuse me?" Kôra and Keane said in unison.