95 Mage and Mage

Ian flopped onto the bed as soon as he got home.

He was hungry, but he had little appetite. The throbbing headache alone was enough to make him not want to eat.

“Still, I should eat something...”

He needed to get some food into his stomach, if only to keep his condition in check. If he kept stubbornly refusing to eat just because he had no appetite, it would only delay his recovery. It was only a headache, technically, but the headache was rather severe.

“I should've bought some medicine.”

Ian let out a groan and slowly sat up on the bed.

His coat and clothes had dried completely during the bike ride, but in exchange they had also given him a heavy chill. If he stayed like this, he'd end up catching a cold or something.

Now that he was a mage, he wouldn't easily fall ill, but he still could. And when the conditions lined up like this, a mystery pretending to be a disease could also latch on.

Even Spanish flu and the Black Death, for which vaccines had already been developed, were diseases that turned up fairly often in this line of work, so it never hurt to be careful.

‘Was the Black Death cure around 100 million at the cartel? I think I saw it somewhere...’...