Rise Of The Underworld King

"Why is your hand so cold?" Ethan asked, looking down at his grandmother where she lay in the hospital bed, her thin fingers resting loosely in his palm.

"How are you feeling?" he asked again.

She took a slow breath before she answered him.

"I know my time has come," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm going to die soon."

"No." His voice came out harder than he intended. "You are not going to die like this. Not now. That is not happening."

His eyes had already gone red. He lifted her hand to his face and rubbed it against his cheek, then kissed it twice before pressing it gently to his chest, holding it there. He moved closer and leaned down, kissing her forehead like a small child. Then he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead to check her temperature.

"You are not going to die," he said again, his voice unsteady now. "I promise you that."

She opened her eyes after a moment and looked at him with a tired but clear expression.

"Where is Tina?" she asked, her breath coming in labored pulls. "I want to speak with her before I go. I would like to see your wife one last time, Ethan."

"I called her before I came here," he said. "She didn't pick up."

A faint smile crossed her face.

"Call her again," she requested. "Why is she not here with you?"

Ethan gave a weak smile of his own.

"My wife?" he asked, almost to himself.

She nodded. "Yes. Tina. I don't have much time left, Ethan. I would like to see her."

"Alright," he said. "I'll call her again right now."

He stepped out of the ward and let the door close behind him. For a moment he just stood there in the corridor, breathing heavily. He tugged at the front of his polo shirt and adjusted his belt, then realized he was already sweating.

He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, pulled out his phone, and stared at Tina's contact for several seconds before pressing the call button.

It rang, and she declined it.

He called her again but she didn't answer. He called again, and again, and again. He called her seven times. Eight. Nine. Ten.

On the eleventh call, she finally picked up.

"What is your problem, Ethan?" Her voice came through cold and loud. "Why can't you stop calling me? I'm in the middle of a business meeting, and you keep disrupting everything. What is wrong with you? Can't you just….."

He didn't wait for her to finish.

"Is that a real reason to decline my calls?" he asked, his jaw U00tight. "Grandmother needs to see you now, Tina. She is in the hospital and she is asking for you right now."

"I don't have time for this!" Tina dismissed flatly. "Please stop disturbing me, Ethan. You are disturbing my peace for goodness sake".

She kissed her teeth and ended the call, then dropped her phone into her desk drawer.

"Does he honestly believe I would just fall back into line?" she muttered, pushing out a long breath.

Back in the corridor, Ethan was holding his phone, his eyes burning with fury.

He pressed his knuckles against his chest as his heart hammered underneath.

"She cannot die now," he said to himself, wiping the sweat from his face with his handkerchief. "This is not her time. She has been everything to me since the day my family was killed and everything I have built all came from her. She saved me." He closed his eyes for a moment. "She cannot die now."

He was about to dial Tina's number again when the sound of urgent footsteps broke through the corridor. A nurse was calling out, her voice cutting through the hum of the hospital. Doctors appeared from two different directions, moving quickly toward the ward, pulling on face masks as they pushed through the door.

Ethan's stomach dropped.

"That's her ward," he said under his breath, and then he was running.

A security guard stepped in front of the door with both arms out.

"You cannot enter, sir. It's an emergency."

"Get out of my way." Ethan grabbed the man by the shoulder and tried to push past him. "I have to see what's happening to her. She cannot die, do you hear me?"

He had almost reached the door handle when it swung open from the inside, and a doctor stepped out. The man pulled his face mask down slowly and looked at Ethan.

"We lost her," the doctor said. "I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

The words landed like a physical blow.

"You must be joking," Ethan said. His voice had gone very quiet, which was somehow worse than shouting. "You must be joking."

He started breathing in short, ragged pulls. He kept shaking his head, kept saying it under his breath over and over, that she could never die.

He stopped moving and he stood directly in front of the ward door, his own reflection staring back at him from the glass panel.

He stared at himself for a long time.

"What is the point," he said slowly, to his own reflection, "of being the best doctor alive, if you cannot even cure aging".

Three days passed.

Ethan stood at his grandmother's grave.

"She was with me from the time I was seven years old," he said, speaking to the mound of earth. "From that day, all the way until now. And now she is gone."

He sat down beside the grave and laid the flowers he had brought across the headstone. He then folded his hands in his lap and stared at the ground.

His breathing was uneven and his legs were trembling slightly.

"Grandmother," he said, his voice breaking at the edges. "When are you coming back?" He pressed his lips together. "Are you really gone?"

His phone rang.

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. The name on the screen was Tina, the woman he had married in the city to fulfill her grandmother's wish.

He answered without saying anything.

"Come to my place," Tina said. Her tone left no room for discussion.

"Okay," he said.

He ended the call and was sliding the phone back into his front pocket when his hand stopped as a notification pooped on his phone. A photograph.

He clicked on it.

There, his wife and a man he had never seen before, were sitting close together in a restaurant, acting intimate. He checked the date the photo was taken.

Three days ago.

The same day his grandmother died.

He stared at the photo for a while. Then, he put the phone in his pocket, stood up, and let out a short, quiet laugh.

He walked to the road, flagged down a taxi, and got in.

What do you think he is going to do when he gets to her house?