The girl's recovery, though limited, was undeniable. Her malnourished body had gained a touch of vitality, her skin now holding a faint glow where pallor once dominated, and her breathing had returned to a steady, normal rhythm—a significant improvement from her previously shallow gasps.
Yet, as the changes slowed and eventually halted, it was clear that the process had only just begun.
Ashok stood unfazed, observing the halted progress with a faintly amused smirk. "Hmm. Lesser than my expectations, but it's fine," he remarked.
The Duke, Cassius, and the Head Butler all turned their eyes toward him, questions burning behind their gazes.
None dared to voice their thoughts, but their expressions said it all: how had such an unorthodox method—a single symbol etched in blood, combined with a potion—achieved results when all else had failed?
