From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra

Charles sat on a cold stretcher, his tunic open to reveal his chest and stomach.

"Ugh...!"

The pain in his shoulder still throbbed, though it had dulled to a nagging ache rather than a constant scream.

Bruises painted his torso and arms in a patchwork of colors: purple, blue, and red where the skin was raw.

The frostbite marks from Kain's ice, now thawed, left reddish patches that stung with every twitch.

'What a mess...' Charles thought, catching his reflection in a nearby metal tray. 'Did I really end up like this?'

The doctor, an older man with gray hair and an annoyed scowl, eyed Charles like he was a pesky bug.

"Tch!" He clicked his tongue while slathering cold ointment on the burns. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, more to himself than to Charles.

Then he glanced at Lira, who sat on a stool across the medical room, flipping through a cooking magazine with a distracted air.

"Miss Cole," the doctor said, ignoring Charles entirely, "the bruises will heal in a few days, but the frostbite needs care. And the shoulder..."

He paused, frowning.