I didn't know when I'd lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was lying in a warm bed inside a small, tidy room. The air was thick with the scent of countless herbs—a smell I didn't particularly care for.
"Oh, you're awake," said a young man, his voice so soft and sweet it was almost musical.
I tried to focus my still-blurry vision on the speaker. As my unremarkable eyes slowly adjusted, I saw who it was: Asclepius, the healer aboard the Argo.
The moment I got a clear look at Asclepius's face, my breath caught. He was so beautiful it was as if the finest features of humanity had been collected and arranged perfectly on his visage. Pale, pristine skin. A slender frame. Long, graceful fingers. Eyes filled with gentle kindness. Being the son of the sun god, he was nothing short of divine.
Honestly, if I hadn't heard his voice earlier, I would have thought he was a woman.
That was a close one.
"Is something wrong? You've been staring at me without blinking," Asclepius asked, tilting his head.
"N-no, nothing at all. Ouch..." A sudden headache made me wince.
The healer smiled kindly, poured a warm liquid from a pot into a clay cup, and handed it to me. "Drink this herbal infusion. It will ease your headache."
I sat up in bed, took the cup, and sipped the liquid.
And immediately spit it all back out. "BLEGH! What is this stuff?!"
Asclepius chuckled softly and handed me a clean cloth to wipe my mouth. "Haha, I admit the taste is rather... unique. But it's good for your health."
I stared down at the liquid, horrified by its color, smell, and taste. It seemed more likely to kill me than heal me. Asclepius gave me a look—gentle, but firm—as if saying, "Drink it. You're not leaving until you do."
Fine. Drink it I would. (But give me a second to brace myself.)
I downed it in one gulp. My face contorted in agony as the vile brew went down. All the horrors of the world swirled in my gut. From now on, I swore I would never get sick again. Ugh.
"Sept," Asclepius suddenly said.
"Huh? What did you say?"
"Oh, I just noticed the tattoo on your arm—just the number seven. So I said 'Sept.'"
He paused, then asked with a concerned look, "Are you a condemned criminal?"
I flinched at the question. I wasn't sure how to respond. "Uh... well..."
"It's all right. You don't have to tell me if you're uncomfortable." He smiled again. He clearly understood, but showed no judgment or disgust. "How's your head? Still hurting?"
The pain had vanished completely. Asclepius's potion tasted like death, but it worked wonders.
(Seriously, you should try it sometime.)
"I think you should stretch your legs a bit. Lying in bed for too long can make you weak."
"How long was I asleep?"
"Hmm... in three more days, it will have been a month. You were in a critical state—a cerebral hemorrhage. You nearly died. Fortunately, Achilles brought you to me in time."
A month?! That long?
I could hardly believe it. The Ultimate Persuasion I'd experienced really had pushed my mind to the brink. If not for Asclepius, my brain probably would have turned into mashed tofu under a stampeding elephant.
Thank the gods he was aboard the Argo.
"While I was unconscious... did anything strange happen? Like... anyone coming to take me away?"
Asclepius gave me a puzzled look, then laughed. "That's a strange thing to say. We're in the middle of the sea. Who would come for you out here?"
Before this, I was certain that as long as I remained on the Argo, my odds of survival were basically zero. But now, I had to reconsider.
According to Asclepius, it had already been nearly four weeks since we set sail from Iolcus—and there hadn't been a single sign that the Moirai had sent anyone to reclaim me.
That was... odd. Surely, the Three Sisters of Fate knew I was here on the Argo.