Do You Intend to Interfere with Death?

With two long neighs, the heavy carriage was pulled by two sturdy horses and slowly departed down the street.

His hometown was some distance away, and he still had to travel by sea, so he planned to leave overnight.

The journey was long, and dangers might arise along the way. His wife, daughter, and fellow townspeople who had come with him to seek their fortunes in the Imperial Capital had already left first with the important valuables and a batch of goods.

They did not carry much and could travel quickly. He, meanwhile, carried some heavy miscellaneous items. Though he was a conspicuous target, he was not carrying the most important things.

If he really encountered bandits on the road, as long as he cooperated, there generally would not be any trouble. Robbery and murder were two different matters, and most bandits knew how to weigh the consequences.

Shaya quietly watched Hart disappear into the distance.

He had indeed given Hart a Fate, but it did not possess any supernatural power, so it had not consumed much Fate Power.

He was not particularly familiar with Hart; at most, they were chance acquaintances. The workings of this Fate would also bring him some returns. Though they would not be much, small gains would accumulate over time.

Perhaps in the future, whenever he encountered someone he found agreeable, he could make another such casual move.

"Mr. Shaya, what a coincidence. You're here too?"

A familiar voice came from behind him.

Shaya turned around and saw Sebas approaching from one side. He glanced at the shop door, which had already been shut, with a large "For Rent" sign on it.

"Has Mr. Valentine left?" Sebas asked.

"He just left," Shaya said.

"I see. What a pity." Sebas said regretfully, "I was planning to have the owner's grilled sausages one last time."

He sighed. "I won't be able to eat them again."

Shaya caught another meaning in those words and spoke.

"When?"

"Not in my jurisdiction," Sebas replied. He did not seem surprised by Shaya's question.

After a pause, he said wistfully, "In this world, bad people always live the longest, while good people are always short-lived.

Do you remember the mother and son who were harassed by the director of the Bureau of Commerce when we ate here a few days ago?"

Shaya thought back. "The florist?"

"That's right," Sebas said. "Her husband died in the hospital last year from a wound infection, leaving behind her and the child in her womb.

After Hart learned about it, he began placing a standing order for flowers from her shop every day."

Shaya recalled the fresh flowers that had always been on the tables whenever he had eaten at this establishment.

He had thought it was one of the shop's special features.

A dining environment carrying the scent of flowers really did lift one's mood.

"He was a good man," Sebas murmured softly. "But unfortunately, this world does not welcome good people."

"I think we should still have a chance to see him again."

Sebas froze and looked at Shaya in astonishment.

"Do you intend to interfere with death?" he asked.

Shaya looked at him in confusion. "Why would I interfere with that?"

"Then you..." Sebas wanted to ask why he had said that.

Then he heard Shaya say,

"You seem to be thinking about a lot of unnecessary things."

He shook the bag of ginger and brown sugar in his hand.

"There's still a patient waiting for me at home. I'm not that idle, worrying about the life and death of someone I've known for less than a few days."

What Shaya said was true. Though Fate had fixed outcomes, it also had variables. He could not guarantee with absolute certainty that Hart, having obtained a new Fate, would definitely not die.

That was why he had said "should" rather than "definitely."

To him, this was merely a small investment.

Even if the man died, he could still recoup some of his costs. At most, he would suffer a small loss. He did not care whether the man lived or died.

"It's good that you don't intend to interfere with death." Sebas gave a bitter smile. "I told you of his death in advance. If you interfered, I wouldn't be able to escape Fate's punishment either."

After a pause, as though still uneasy, he added, "If you want to save him, you can try snatching his soul back from the Grim Reaper after he dies. That way, you won't have to pay the price of defying Fate.

In any case, it's outside my jurisdiction, so it has nothing to do with me."

Then he muttered, "It's just that if a soul remains in the mortal world for too long, it will be contaminated by its foul aura and turn into some terrifying monster..."

He looked up at Shaya and smiled. "But you should have a way..."

Looking at Sebas, who had casually sold out his teammate while wearing such a matter-of-fact expression, Shaya smiled helplessly. After bidding him farewell, he returned to his castle along the way he had come.

Sebas watched Shaya's departing back and shook his head.

Perhaps he had merely been overthinking it.

With that thought, he too left, preparing to harvest the next soul.

"Shaya! You're finally back!"

When Shaya entered, Arthur rose from his chair and hurried over as though he had seen a savior.

"What did you bring back?"

"How is she?" Shaya asked.

"Still the same. She woke up a few times in between," Arthur said. "I gave her some water and food."

Shaya nodded. "It's good that she can eat."

He walked over to a cabinet at the side and took out an iron pot. He filled it with water from the sink and set it on Cassifa. Then he washed the ginger, cut it into chunks, and put it into the pot with the brown sugar.

The clear water was dyed red by the brown sugar, while the spicy scent of ginger spread through the room as the water boiled.

"Will drinking that make her better?" Arthur asked.

"No, but it will make her feel better."

Ginger dispelled cold, while brown sugar replenished the body, eased pain, dispersed cold, and promoted blood circulation. It was just right for driving out the chill from her body.

Shaya lifted the pot and poured the ginger-brown-sugar water into a bowl. He gently blew away the steam rising from it and used a little magic to keep the water at around fifty or sixty degrees.

He carried the bowl over.

Alicia had regained some consciousness by then. Wrapped in her blanket, she noticed Shaya's arrival and raised her eyes to look at him. Her bloodshot eyes were filled with exhaustion.

"Can you get up?"

Alicia did not respond, but Shaya had already sat at the edge of her bed. He reached out, supported her back, and helped her sit up, preparing to feed her the ginger water.

But Alicia did not seem accustomed to this posture. It felt somewhat too intimate.

She struggled to pull her hands out from beneath the blanket, took the bowl from him, and raised it to her lips for a small sip. The spiciness of the ginger water made her frown slightly as she asked weakly,

"What is this?"

"A Sorcerer's magic potion," Shaya teased. "Drink it in big gulps. It's best if you have several bowls. You'll feel better afterward."

She still trusted Shaya, and the ginger water was within her tolerance. Obediently, she began drinking in large gulps, finishing one bowl before long.

After she had drunk two bowls, Shaya laid Alicia, who indicated that she truly could not drink any more, back down on the bed. He tucked her blanket around her, then said to Arthur,

"You should go to sleep first. I'll stay here and watch over her."

Arthur looked at Shaya, then at Alicia, seemingly reluctant to leave.

"Go sleep," Shaya said again. "With too many people here, she won't be able to rest properly either."

Arthur nodded and turned to head upstairs.

This soup really was effective. Not long after drinking it, warmth began spreading through her stomach, even radiating outward.

Just earlier, aside from the splitting headache, she had felt cold all over. It was a chill that came from within; no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in the blankets, it had been useless.

But now, the warm current spreading through her body was driving away the cold within her, and her head did not seem to hurt quite as badly as before.

Though it was still difficult to fall asleep, her mind had cleared considerably. She stretched out a hand and gently pulled open the bed curtain, leaving a barely noticeable gap.

That man sat in front of Cassifa, staring unblinkingly at the flames as though contemplating something.

It was the first time Alicia had observed his profile. The flickering firelight reflected over his face, glinting off the bridge of his high nose and tracing a pleasing curve. His profile was very handsome.

He did not say a word, seemingly so as not to disturb her. Even his movements when adding firewood were quiet.

Alicia hid most of her face beneath the blanket, revealing only her eyes, as if that meant no one would notice her.

She kept watching him, watching him, until before she knew it, she fell asleep.