Ghostbane

Richard had made his decision. He was now George's disciple. There was no turning back.

But the moment he tried to sit up—

A wave of pain shot through his entire body.

His muscles locked up. His ribs felt like they were cracking under an invisible weight. A deep, unbearable burning sensation coursed through his veins, as if something inside him was tearing itself apart.

"Gh—!" Richard gritted his teeth, his breath catching in his throat. His vision blurred.

He barely had time to register what was happening before—

THUD.

His body gave out. His knees buckled, and he collapsed.

George, sitting at the table nearby, didn't even look surprised. He just sighed.

"Well, there it is."

Richard struggled to lift his head. "Wha—what?"

George shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "You dumbass. Did you think you'd just wake up feeling fine? After pulling a stunt like that?"

Richard clenched his jaw, still trying to push himself up.

The pain intensified.

"Argh—!!" His body trembled, and before he could hit the floor again, George caught him.

"Alright, alright. Stop being dramatic," George muttered as he easily lifted Richard and threw him onto the bed.

Richard groaned, feeling like his insides were rearranging themselves. He hated how easily his grandfather could toss him around like a sack of potatoes.

George sat back down, rubbing his temple. "You're lucky to be alive, kid. You overused your power. Burned through more energy than your body could handle."

Richard exhaled sharply, still gripping the blanket under him. "You…could've warned me."

George smirked. "And miss the look on your face? Nah."

Richard would've thrown something at him if he could.

Instead, he lay there, muscles twitching, waiting for the pain to settle—but it didn't. If anything, it got worse.

His breathing grew heavy. His limbs ached. His chest felt tight.

George noticed and sighed. "Tch. Just hold on." He turned to Max, who had been watching from the doorway, arms crossed.

"Go call her."

Max raised a brow. "Her her?"

George shot him a look. "No, the fucking Tooth Fairy. Yes, her her. Go."

Max rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. But you're paying this time."

George grumbled something under his breath as Max shoved his hands into his pockets and left the room.

Richard barely registered the conversation. The pain was unbearable.

George sighed and sat beside him. "Try to breathe through it."

Richard forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, but every inhale felt like swallowing fire.

"…How long…?" he managed to ask between ragged breaths.

"How long is it gonna feel like hell?" George snorted. "Eh. A couple hours. Maybe a day. Maybe more. Who knows? You fried yourself, kid."

Richard groaned, shutting his eyes. This was worse than any injury he'd ever had.

"Stop whining," George added. "At least you ain't dead."

Richard almost had the energy to glare at him. Almost.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Max stepped in first, an amused smirk already on his face. Behind him, an old woman followed.

She walked slowly but steadily, her wooden cane tapping against the floor with each step. Her silver hair was pulled into a tight bun, and deep wrinkles lined her stern face. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes—she was blind.

But even without sight, she moved with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times.

Her presence was commanding. There was an odd sense of weight in the air, as if the very room recognized her as someone important.

She stopped at the bedside and placed a worn-out leather bag onto the nightstand.

Richard blinked, still groggy. "Who…?"

George exhaled, rubbing his temples. "That's Nat. Best healer I can afford."

Richard's eyes darted to Max, who was barely holding in laughter.

Richard scowled. "What's your problem?"

Max grinned. "Oh, you'll see."

Richard frowned, confused—until he saw what Nat was pulling out of her bag.

His blood ran cold.

A handful of long, silver needles.

Richard's whole body stiffened.

"…Oh, hell no."

Nat ignored him. She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the first needle with practiced precision.

Richard tried to sit up. "Wait, wait, wait—what is that? What are you doing?!"

Nat turned her head slightly toward him, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. "Fixing you."

"That does NOT look like fixing!"

George smirked. "Relax, she knows what she's doing."

Richard didn't feel relaxed at all.

Max crossed his arms, watching with amusement. "This is gonna be fun."

Richard glared. "Max, shut the hell up."

Max grinned. "Make me."

Before Richard could fire back, Nat moved.

STAB.

Richard yelped.

A thin, sharp needle had been jabbed straight into his shoulder.

"AH—what the hell?! Are you serious?!"

Nat ignored his screams and went for the next one.

STAB.

Richard twitched. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

George casually leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "Yeah, she does that."

STAB.

Richard flinched again. "You're supposed to HELP me, not turn me into a damn pincushion!"

Nat, still eerily calm, murmured, "This is how I heal people."

Richard wasn't convinced.

STAB.

STAB.

STAB.

Needle after needle after needle pierced into his body. His arms, his chest, his back—everywhere.

His first instinct was to rip them out, but his body felt like dead weight.

He couldn't move.

After the tenth needle, he realized something even stranger.

The pain—the searing agony from before—

It was fading.

His muscles stopped burning. His bones no longer felt like they were breaking apart.

His breathing, once ragged and strained, evened out.

"…What the hell?" Richard blinked.

Nat finally spoke again. "It's working."

Richard realized she was right.

For the first time since waking up, he wasn't in pain.

"…How?" he muttered.

Nat finally smirked. "You thought this was just poking? Kid, this is spirit acupuncture. I'm realigning your energy flow."

Richard blinked. "My… what now?"

George sighed. "Don't worry about it, dumbass. Just take the win."

Richard slowly exhaled. The relief was undeniable.

Max, standing by the door, snorted. "Man, you screamed like a little bitch."

Richard glared. "Come closer and I'll make you scream."

Max just smirked. "Please, at least buy me dinner first."

Richard groaned and closed his eyes.

Nat took one final look at her work, then finally leaned back, satisfied.

"That should do it," she said simply.

George nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Nat."

Nat smirked. "You bet you owe me."

George exhaled. "I know, I know. Let's just get to the part where you overcharge me."

Nat grinned.

"Fifty grand."

Richard choked. "WHAT?!"

George nearly had a heart attack. "Fifty?! Are you high?!"

Nat shrugged. "You called me for an emergency. I charge extra for rush jobs."

George pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thirty."

"Fifty."

"Thirty-five."

"Fifty."

"Come on, be reasonable."

"Nope."

George sighed deeply.

"Alright, what if I throw in a free service?" he offered.

Nat raised an eyebrow. "Hoh?"

George smirked. "I'll deal with that little ghost problem you've been complaining about."

Nat was quiet for a moment.

Then, she grinned.

"Now you're talking."

George sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. Deal."

Richard watched them, completely baffled.

"…So that's it? That's how you negotiate?"

George smirked. "Welcome to exorcist business, kid."

Nat stood up, grabbed her cane, and made her way toward the door. "I'll expect results soon."

"We'll handle it," George assured her.

As she left, Max leaned against the wall and snickered. "Guess what, Richard?"

Richard narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Max grinned.

"You just got your first job"

Chapter 12 – Part 3: A Meal and a Memory (Expanded)

Richard lay motionless on his bed, his body covered in needles like a human pincushion. But for the first time since waking up, the pain was gone.

His body was exhausted, his mind a swirling mess. Jackson. The hill. His powers. Too much had happened in too little time.

Max had already left. George sat beside the bed for a few minutes, watching Richard with a rare look of concern before eventually getting up.

"Get some rest," George muttered. "Tomorrow, we're working."

Richard barely had the energy to respond.

George grabbed his coat and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Silence settled in.

Richard felt weirdly alone.

It wasn't like he was a stranger to solitude, but this was different. A heaviness hung in the air, like something was missing—something he should remember but couldn't.

His eyes slowly shut.

Just as he was starting to drift into sleep—

Knock. Knock.

Richard groaned. "...What now?"

The door creaked open.

A familiar scent wafted into the room—warm rice and curry.

"Richard," a soft voice called.

Richard opened his eyes.

His grandmother stood in the doorway, carrying a tray of food. Her kind, wrinkled face held a gentle smile.

"You should eat," she said, stepping inside. "I made dinner for you."

Richard blinked at her. "…Grandma?"

She chuckled. "Who else would it be?"

Richard tried to sit up, but his body still felt weak. His grandmother hurried to his side, placing the tray on the nightstand.

"Here, let me help you."

Richard shook his head. "I can eat alone."

His grandmother gave him a knowing look but didn't argue. She simply handed him the tray, watching as he slowly took the first bite.

The taste was familiar.

Warm. Comforting. Like home.

"…It's good," Richard mumbled between bites.

His grandmother smiled softly. "I'm glad."

For a moment, there was only the quiet sound of Richard eating.

Then, he paused.

He swallowed, looking up at her.

"…Where's Grandpa?"

His grandmother blinked. "He's not here. "

His grandmother shook his head. "He left a while ago."

Richard's expression shifted slightly.

"…I see," he murmured.

Richard frowned. "Where did he go?"

His grandmother hesitated.

Then, she sighed.

"He said he went out to buy something."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "At this hour?"

His grandmother's eyes softened. "Your grandfather doesn't always tell us everything, you know."

Richard looked down at his food, chewing slowly.

His gut told him something was off.

But for now, he pushed the thought aside.

He was too tired to think.

His grandmother reached over and gently patted his head. "Get some rest, dear."

Richard nodded absentmindedly.

His grandmother took the empty tray and quietly left the room, leaving Richard alone once more.