–Livana–
He was meticulous with the check-up, each movement deliberate, efficient. His voice carried a quiet confidence, the kind shaped by years of experience and countless patients. I sensed no hesitation in his touch—just precision. I knew his eye drop formula had helped many recover, yet the version he used wasn't available on the market. It was reserved, he said, for post-surgical care—something delicate, potent.
"I can perform a surgery to remove those black spots," he said, his voice calm. "However, I can't guarantee you'll regain twenty-twenty vision."
"As long as I can see—and you can correct it," I replied.
He paused. I heard the rustle of his sleeve, imagining him nodding thoughtfully.
"Hmm… I believe the person who created that toxic solution miscalculated," he said at last. "They likely intended for you to go completely blind. But instead, it only caused these black spots. Fortunately, they're treatable. There's a real chance to restore some of your sight."
