After stitching up his lungs, Raphael started coughing again.
He still had symptoms of illness. His whole body felt weak, and the fever left his head swimming.
His previously ice-cold Zombie body had even warmed to roughly the temperature of a normal person because of the fever.
After stitching up his lungs, Raphael rested for a moment. He glanced at Dwayne Dantès before him, then asked hoarsely, "How did things go on your end?"
The wound in his neck only prevented him from turning his head; it had not damaged his vocal cords.
Klein looked around, then turned toward Raphael, whose chest was still half open. "Very smoothly."
He had seen Zombies fight before, but he did not remember it being this bloody!
Raphael took out a cigarette case and put a cigarette between his lips, but he could not find his lighter anywhere.
Klein snapped his fingers and lit the cigarette with Flame Control. "Your injuries are severe."
Raphael took a drag. Some smoke escaped through the wound in his neck, and some more drifted out of his chest cavity.
"Now that's what I call inhaling." Then he looked at Dwayne Dantès. "The injuries are pretty bad. It'll take three days to recover."
He paused, then added, "But I completed the mission, too."
Klein nodded. "In exchange, whenever you feel the time is right, I'll help you obtain the characteristic you need."
He had suddenly changed his mind. He felt that Raphael could be more helpful than the other Tarot Club members, and that he should not keep him on such a tight leash.
The Tarot Club members either had brains but were very protective of their lives, or had strength but were somewhat lacking in wisdom.
More importantly, the Fool's lofty bearing made it impossible to ask them