The moment he opened his eyes, he was seized by a violent coughing fit. He was struggling to breathe, his chest shaking with each cough. As waves of coughing came one after another, his throat burned and tears streamed from his eyes. With each breath, the burning in his lungs intensified, and the coughing fits continued to worsen. His body jerked forward with each cough, his muscles tensing. This continued until his eyes filled with tears and his vision blurred. A small piece of mist escaped from his throat and was instantly destroyed by the flames.

When he stopped coughing, he began to look around, and as his vision slowly cleared, he recognized where he was. The glow of the Circle of Unforgetting Flames surrounded him, and he could feel Ran's worried gaze upon him.

He had returned from death once again, this time the relief of being able to breathe enveloped his entire body. He wasn't in Aleah's infirmary, but that didn't matter right now. He was inwardly grateful to be alive, feeling his existence with each breath. He drew another deep breath into his lungs, finding peace in the easy expansion and contraction of his chest. Gradually he relaxed, his muscles softened, and the confusion in his mind began to dissipate.

"You died again." said Geminga, in a calm voice, as if discussing an ordinary event. "This time at the hands of the Mist Reaper. However, we learned important information."

"How many times is that now?" asked the man, with a worried voice.

"Fourth... or technically third – if we don't count your actual death." said Geminga.

"What happened, sir?" Ran's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Just something caught in my throat."

"That laboratory... is more dangerous than we thought. That old man, the woman with him, the Mist Reaper..."

"What are you thinking?"

"Well, this death of yours proved useful." said Geminga. "We discovered many things that will help us, but there's one clue in particular that interests me."

"There's nothing good about dying. Well, at least we know what we're up against. What's the clue that interests you?"

"Dr. Elena Frost." said Geminga with a confident voice.

"Who's that?"

"The woman showing something on a tablet to the old man."

"How do you know that woman's name?"

"You need to improve your observation skills. I see through your eyes, but how can you not see? It was clearly written on her ID badge."

"Sorry, I was looking at her chest."

"No, I wasn't... This man is starting to get on my nerves. Geminga, what are we going to do now?"

"We'll go to Ainsley and ask about Elena Frost's location. Once we find Elena, getting the information will be easy."

"What shall we do now, sir?" asked Ran.

"It'll be dark soon. There's a bar I know around here, we'll go there and gather information."

The sun was about to set. As they walked through the city streets, the shadows of the buildings around them grew longer. Both of them walked with cautious steps through the streets of this foreign city. They stopped at every corner trying to find their way.

The narrow streets and tall buildings cast a gloomy atmosphere over the city. The building facades were worn, most windows dirty and neglected. Piles of garbage had accumulated at the edges of the streets, with broken bottles and old newspapers scattered on the ground.

"This city... is strange." said Ran, looking around anxiously. "People are giving us odd looks."

Indeed, people in the street were keeping their distance, hurrying away when passing by them. Some would whisper and point at them, then quickly disappear.

They turned another corner. Here the street had become even narrower. The walls had blackened from moisture, window frames had begun to rot. There was a large puddle in the middle of the street. A thin film of oil shimmered in rainbow colors on the surface of the puddle.

An old woman was watching them from one of the upper floor windows. When their eyes met, she immediately drew the curtain. Children playing in front of another house abandoned their games and ran inside when they saw them.

"Why is everyone running away from us?" asked Ran.

"They don't like strangers." said the man.

"How do they know we're strangers? Surely not everyone in the city knows each other?"

"Look around." said the man, lowering his voice. "These people's faces bear the weight of life. There's weariness in their eyes, years of burden on their shoulders. We... we haven't been worn down that much yet. There's still hope in our eyes, still strength in our steps. That's why they immediately recognize us as strangers."

"A strange observation."

"Sir, if you ask me, you look quite tired. I'm a bit hesitant to ask, but are you alright?"

Ran was right. A deep weariness was evident in the man's posture and every movement. He frequently blinked his eyes, as if trying to clear his vision. Ran would catch his hands trembling slightly at times, perhaps the effect of too much sona, or perhaps a reflection of his traumas. With each step, he walked slightly hunched forward, as if an invisible weight had settled on his shoulders.

The dark circles under his eyes and sunken features, the pale expression on his face and exhausted appearance, the weight on his shoulders, the dullness in his gaze, the slowness and hesitation in every movement were signs of someone carrying life's burdens. It was as if every moment he had lived, every experience, every loss and every pain had settled upon him like an invisible weight. This fatigue came not from simple sleeplessness, but from the depths of his soul. The slight wrinkles on his face were a map not of his age, but of what he had lived through.

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The potential sparkle in his eyes had given way to a dull and distant gaze. Sometimes, especially when lost in thought, his gaze would drift far away, as if lost in memories of another time, another place.

The white strands in his hair were indicators not just of his age, but of the hardships he had endured. The faint lines on his forehead bore the marks of someone living under constant worry and stress. The slight downward curve at the corners of his lips looked as if he was constantly trying to suppress a sadness.

Occasionally, especially after standing for long periods, he would slightly drag his right leg. Whether it was the trace of an old wound or just fatigue, Ran didn't know. But she noticed that the man tried to hide it, making an effort to walk properly each time he caught himself.

He looked tired even while eating. He chewed his food slowly, pausing occasionally, as if even eating required extra effort from him.

Despite everything, there was still a strength, a determination beneath this fatigue. The light in his eyes might have dimmed, but it hadn't completely disappeared. Occasionally, especially when making plans or discussing strategic matters, a spark of his energy would show. In these moments, he would put his fatigue aside and devote himself completely to his work.

He had something he wanted to do, a goal he wanted to reach, and this purpose was the only thing keeping him going. Beyond his fatigue, his pain, his losses, this determination that carried him forward was the only thing that occasionally brightened the dim light in his eyes. He might stumble with each step, struggle with each breath, but he wouldn't stop until he reached his goal.

This determination was his most distinctive feature. His body might have been worn out, but his spirit still stood tall. It was as if inside him, despite all this fatigue and exhaustion, there burned a small fire. And this fire was the force that lifted him up again each day, pushing him to set out anew each morning.

Perhaps that's why it was possible to see that familiar sparkle in his eyes even in his most exhausted moments. That sparkle was a reflection of his purpose, his goal, what he had to do. And as long as that sparkle remained there, it was clear he would continue no matter how tired he became.

When speaking, his voice would sometimes crack, and he frequently felt the need to clear his throat. He was careful in choosing his words, trying to keep his sentences short and concise, as if each word tired him a bit more. Occasionally, especially during long conversations, his breathing would become slightly faster, his chest rising and falling more frequently.

He wanted to say "I'm not well, really not well at all" inside. With words knotted in his throat, he wanted to say "I just died by suffocation, I remember every second of that terrible moment and I'm still afraid as if I can't breathe." The thought crossed his mind to say "I don't even know who I am completely, I miss my wife and daughter who are like shadows in my mind, I can't even remember their faces." Every word came to the tip of his tongue, but couldn't go further. All that fell from his lips was, in a tired and reluctant voice: "I've had a few sleepless days. That's all."

Thanks to her training, she could understand somewhat what people meant by observing their behavior. She had sensed that the man didn't trust her enough or feel close enough to tell her anything. She didn't question it, just nodded her head.

The wind passing between the houses entered through a broken window of an abandoned building, making eerie whistling sounds. Paper pieces and leaves dragged along the ground formed small whirlwinds in the wind's effect.

They paused for a moment. In the building across from them, there was a large crack in the upper part of the wall. A gray mist was seeping from the crack. They both looked at each other anxiously but didn't say anything.

When they turned the corner, they emerged onto a wide street. There were more people here. Most shops had already started lowering their shutters. At the end of the street, they immediately noticed a two-story building with electric, half-broken signs, with constant people coming and going. The signs and posters read "Mist&Wind" in huge letters. Directly across from it was a brothel where half-naked women waited, and it wasn't hard to see that most of those leaving the building were heading there.

"This is it." said the man. Ran nodded. As they approached the bar's door, muffled music and human murmur could be heard from inside. Two large men were waiting at the door. When they entered without being questioned, they were greeted by thick cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol.

Behind the bar counter stood Ainsley, notable for her short black hair and sharp gaze. As she wiped down the counter in front of her, she sized up the new customers. When Ran and the man approached the counter, Ainsley set aside her cloth.

"What can I get you?" asked the woman with a professional smile.

"Not drinks, we're looking for information." said the man, lowering his voice. "We need to find Dr. Elena Frost."

Ainsley's smile vanished for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Straight to the point, I see. I like that, but information comes at a price." she said, bending down behind the counter. "Especially when it concerns this woman."

She pulled out a thick, leather-bound ledger from under the counter. She placed the worn, dog-eared book in front of them. "Who's who in this city, where they live, what they do... It's all in here. For those willing to pay the right price, of course."

"How much?" asked the man.

"Three hundred astralis." said Ainsley, running her finger across the ledger. "Up front."

"Three hundred?! Why so expensive?"

"Don't question the price. Do you want the information or not?"

The man took out his chip and placed it on the counter. Ainsley took it and processed the payment with her own chip. She began opening the ledger. As she quickly flipped through the pages, she muttered through the bar noise: "Elena... Elena... Elena Frost..."

"Ah, here it is." she said finally. "Dr. Elena Frost. She worked at Meridian Clinic until last month. After the clinic closed..." She scanned the notes on the page. "She's currently living in Shadow District, in the Crimson Apartments. Fourth floor."

As the man committed the information to memory, Ainsley paused before closing the ledger. "But let me give you some advice - free of charge." she said, lowering her voice further. "You're not the only ones looking for Dr. Frost. Others came asking about her before."

"Who else has been looking for her?" Ran asked, speaking up for the first time.

Ainsley shrugged. "Fifty astralis." she said.

The man let out a long sigh and handed over his chip again.

"The Mist Thieves." said Ainsley. "They came about a month ago. I don't think it's a coincidence that Elena's clinic closed after they got the information." Ainsley leaned forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Word is, the good doctor has been conducting some... interesting research lately. About the Mist. And you know, anything involving the Mist is dangerous."

"Do you have any more information about this research?" asked the man.

Ainsley smiled, but this time her smile was colder. "Some information is too dangerous for bar talk."

"Aren't you afraid of the Mist Reaper"

"Ah- no. I don't believe in urban legends."

"Legend..." the man thought. "I see." he said. "Thanks for your help."

"Can I get you a beera?" asked Ainsley, returning to her normal bartender demeanor. "Looks like it's going to be a long night."

"Maybe another time." said the man, turning to Ran. "We need to go."

Ainsley nodded. "As you wish." As the man and Ran turned to leave the bar, Ainsley added one last thing: "By the way, if you ever do come back for a drink, I have a special offer for you. You seem like people with interesting stories, and I love stories."

When they got outside, the cold evening air hit their faces. Ran noticed the thoughtful expression on the man's face. "What are you thinking, sir?" he asked.

"What Ainsley said... The Mist Thieves looking for Dr. Frost, her clinic closing, and the research about the Mist... This isn't good."

"What about the bar? I thought it seemed too... organized. Not like a normal bar."

The man nodded. "Because it's not a normal bar. This is an information exchange hub. And Ainsley isn't just a regular bartender. That ledger of hers contains all the city's secrets... I think."

"Can we trust her?"

"We don't have to trust her. But her information is usually accurate. Because that's her business. If she gives wrong information, she loses customers."

As they walked down the dark street, the man tried to gather his thoughts. Finding Dr. Frost had become even more important now. But at the same time, it was clear this search could be dangerous.

"Should we go to the Crimson Apartments?" asked Ran.

"Yes. Let's go question our doctor."