There was one man Samantha could call her superior. Only one, and she was in his room.

“I need more defense budget.” She stated, towering over his hunched figure.

But as he raised his head from the documents, his face was stern. “Again with this whole Holy War, Sam? The other BSA departments will not be happy. How much more of our citizens’ tax money do you want to spend on your fancy witch hunt? You have your team, you have your division. What you don’t have is results.”

“Sir, with all due respect, the Bureau—”

“It’s more than enough. You have three months, after which we will reallocate both PsyOps and SpaceOps to our ongoing effort in the middle East. After a small stay in the CARF, of course. But you don’t care about that, do you?” He paused. “Lending you those two was already concession enough, and I am extending the lease by another three months. Take it and be happy.”

Samantha’s face contorted in outrage, this being the only room where she could afford to wear her emotions on her face. “Sir, you can’t expect me to monitor all of Temalas City with only non-magical personnel.”

The man grinned. “Then bring me something, Sam. Anything I can pass onto the president to justify this outrageous spending here. Three months.”

On her way out, Samantha slammed the door hard enough that it bounced back open, and an assistant had to be called in to close it.

Dialing a number into her phone, she spoke fast. “I need a lift. I’m at the pentagon.”

SpaceOps appeared in a matter of moments. “Where to, madam?”

“Quadrangle. I want to see what you have found. It’s time we moved onto phase two.”

***

Albert reappeared in the hospital waiting room, hands holding the purple gem and a small vial of thick red fluid. He looked around in a panic, only calming his raging mind when he noticed that the room was empty. His clothes were dirty from the fight however, which meant that he needed to get himself cleaned before he could do anything else, or people were going to ask questions.

He pocketed the purple gem for later inspection, instead clutching the prized vial of healing potion tight in his hands. Now all he needed to do was wait for the nurse who was medicating his grandpa to leave the room.

“You are Lloyd Cromwell’s relative?” She asked as soon as the door opened and she spotted him.

“Yes,” Albert said, springing to his feet. He was at the door before it even closed, but then he remembered that perhaps he should pretend to care about what the nurse did. It was all going to be futile once the potion did its job, but still. “How is he?”

The nurse looked at the floor. “Spend as much time as you can with him. He…” she shook her head.

“I understand.”

Albert’s voice was solemn, but inside he couldn’t contain his restlessness. The situation was made even more tense when, with the door slamming close behind him due to his carelessness, he realized that Lloyd, his grandpa, was wide awake.

“Albert!” He exclaimed weakly, with barely a hint of voice that did its best to hide the pain within it. “You are back!”

That was the look of a man who knew he was dying but refused to give up.

Albert smiled at him, clutching the potion in his hand. There was no use in lying, pretending that it was nothing and waiting for Lloyd to fall asleep before administering the cure. It would surely be the best way to do it, without any questions he would need to answer but the situation didn’t allow for it.

In fact, if anything, it would be irresponsibly risky. Another course of action was possible, one that would prove to be rather interesting indeed if it all went well. It was a bit of a gamble, but it could succeed. If there was any person in the world he could come clean to without fearing for his safety, it was his grandfather.

“Hey old man,” Albert started off with a joke. “How would you like to be fully cured in a matter of moments?”

The old man frowned. “Boy, I would pay gold for it to happen. But alas, nothing short of magic—”

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“No need to pay gold. The payment I ask for is your silence, and your cooperation.”

Albert smiled evilly, but Lloyd understood the intent. He laughed, coughing before he was done but with a wide smile on his face.

“What sort of devilish plan have you concocted, young man?”

Albert flashed the potion, hiding it away before his grandpa’s eyes could fully track its movement through the air. “I’m not saying anything else until you accept the conditions!”

Lloyd hummed. “Cooperation huh? That does sound…” he paused to catch his breath, and Albert’s eyes darted to the ECG machine. The line still jerked and moved, but it was irregular.

“Come on. Don’t die on me just because you want to pretend that you need to think about it!”

Lloyd grinned. “What’s on offer, exactly? A shady man approached you with the miracle cure in exchange for your soul or something along the lines?”

He was wasting time on purpose, all with the purpose of making Albert as uncomfortable as possible. Classic grandpa. That’s why Albert loved him.

“Perhaps. We can speculate of course, waste precious time.” Albert said quickly.

But Lloyd was not done. He spoke slowly, pretending or perhaps not pretending to be in great pain.

“Yes. Let’s speculate.”

Albert rolled his eyes, groaning inwardly to hide his very real fear of death. Death by proxy, as it was not his life that was on the line, but a death that would leave a void he was not equipped to handle in his life.

The joke was extending beyond comfortable bounds here. He was supposed to be the one holding the knife, the bargaining chip, and yet he felt like his grandfather was more in control than him. There was a lesson to be learned.

“I know what you are doing old man. You figured out a way to flip the hierarchy between the one who needs something and the one who can provide it.”

Lloyd feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“You figured out that you can hold negotiating power in this conversation because my desire to save you is strong enough to make me act rashly. You are the one in control because I cannot possibly know the extent of your injuries and your condition, while you can bluff and pretend. I concede, you win.”

“Good, boy. Very good. You know the theory, but you should also learn how to apply it. Fine, give me that liquid. Let’s see what it does.”

That his grandpa was bluffing when he pretended not to care became apparent the very moment he clutched his hands around the glass vial. He downed the allegedly miracle liquid with incredible speed, not wasting a single drop of it. Considering that he knew nothing about it beyond what Albert claimed, meaning that he was basing his behavior entirely on trust and how he decoded Albert’s own behavior… well, he really did not want to die and he really did not think that the hospital would be able to save him or even if it did, to grant him a satisfactory treatment.

None of it mattered, because in a matter of seconds all color returned to his pale face. Albert heard the sound of bone moving, grinding against something as it shifted back in place inside the cast around his grandpa’s leg. The bruise on his forehead disappeared. His breathing became regular, as did his heartbeat. Even some of his wrinkles seemed to disappear, but it was hard to tell whether it was due to the potion or due to the fact that Lloyd was now sitting up with the widest smile on his face.

“My god.” He said. “You even cured my back pain.”

The two shared a laugh, after which Lloyd beckoned Albert to come in for a hug that lasted several seconds. Something hot and wet fell on his shoulder, spreading through the fabric. Tears. Never did Albert see the old man cry before, and seeing him like this made him cry too.

The moment lasted an indefinite amount of time, after which they were both sitting together. Albert on his chair and Lloyd in the bed.

“I guess that this makes me your accomplice in whatever this was.” Lloyd said. His voice was crystal clear, powerful and lucid.

Albert nodded. “I’m sure you want to know more.”

Lloyd chuckled. “You’re damn right I do. But not now. The nurse might be back at any time.”

“Yeah,” Albert said. “It’s better you keep pretending you’re sick, and slowly get better. They might call it a miracle recovery, but at least it won’t be too suspicious.”

The old man nodded. “That’s the plan. Although there is yet another lesson for you to learn here.”

Albert frowned. “What lesson?”

“You didn’t create insurance against unexpected reactions to the fact that I was cured.” The man said.

“Again with these lectures?”

“They are important. I’m your gramps, and I’m way too curious to rat you out, but if you ever happen to do this to strangers you better bring some insurance.”

Albert nodded. It was an intelligent observation, although the whole point was moot due to the still unknown nature of magic. If he had more control over it then yeah, he could implement the changes, but as he was now all he could do was bluff. Which meant no healing strangers, not even friends actually. The probability of being outed as the source of the miracle recovery was low but not zero.

Besides, there was no way to know how someone would react to a major event like this. Gratitude is the most obvious way but not the only one.

“That’s not all, kiddo. Suppose you have more of this… medicine. You can't only use it on people close to you, because if you do then for each person you cure the circle will tighten around you until they eventually figure it out.”

He did not have more. Yet. There was an appraisal skill to be created if he wanted to gain access to the knowledge necessary to make more potions. Knowledge which, after all this talk, suddenly became much less palatable than it was before. Rationally he knew, of course, how vital having access to healing was with the kind of dangers the system liked to expose him to.

But he was discovering more and more that the rational mind was just a small part of the whole system.

“Right. What do we do now?” Albert asked, changing the topic.

“Just tell me one thing. Was it magic or science?”

“…magic.”

“I suppose that you have more magic than just this. Am I correct?”

“You are correct.”

“That’s all I need to know. We can’t do anything as long as I’m here. As soon I get dismissed, I will ask your mother to let me live at your place because of my ‘broken’ leg. Then you will show me everything.”