Priest Asazar took a deep breath. His breathing was drawn out, but his expression was utterly helpless.
Then he began explaining earnestly to the man in front of him.
"Listen, your constant coughing isn't because you've been cursed, and it isn't because The Emperor is displeased with you—The Emperor loves all of us, so how could He be displeased with you? It's not as if you're one of those homeless dogs who believe in Chaos. How could He cast you aside?"
"But, Lord, seeing doctors hasn't helped at all!" the man said bitterly.
"I saw three doctors, one after another. The first one asked me where I was coughing, then broke two of my ribs without another word."
"The second said I was coughing because my ribs were broken, and that he needed to operate on me. I said I was already coughing before my ribs got broken, so he had people throw me out."
"The third doctor did prescribe me medicine, but that medicine didn't do a thing. I'm still—cough, cough, cough cough cough cough."
As the man was speaking, he suddenly began coughing nonstop. His face flushed red, and his waist bent down. Asazar had no choice but to stand and support him, lest he collapse to the floor.
Half a minute later, the man finally stopped coughing, but he still could not speak for the moment. He did not seem very inclined to speak either, and only looked at Asazar with a gaze mixed with pleading and hope.
A few seconds later, the priest sighed.
He closed his eyes and pressed his foot against a certain floorboard beneath the table. The next second, the room sank into darkness. The man whimpered uneasily, and at that moment, Asazar spoke in an ethereal tone.
"Puri, miner of Cygnus I,