Dewi remained uncertain, her fingers tightening slightly around the drawer handle she had just closed.
Although her instincts urged caution, something in Felzein's demeanour, measured, earnest, and strangely commanding, kept her from outright refusal.
Without pressing further, she handed him the sterile gloves, her eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"What are you planning to do exactly?" her expression seemed to ask, though her lips stayed sealed.
"Is there a private room at the back?" Felzein asked, his tone still gentle, but now carrying the distinct edge of quiet urgency.
"There is," Dewi replied, cautious but compliant.
"Good. I'll need it for a few minutes," he said, offering Melati a quick glance that, though brief, brimmed with unspoken intent.
He turned to the others, "Melati. Dewi. Ocha. Come with me, if you please."
Rosa and Dewi exchanged glances, brows slightly raised in mutual confusion.
Melati looked unsure, but something in Felzein's voice. Steady, clear, and devoid of hesitation, cut through the fog of doubt.
Together, they followed him through the quiet corridor into the back room, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft but decisive click.
Once inside, Felzein began speaking briskly, "I'll need a few basic compounds. Standard agents used in the treatment of contusions and superficial trauma, nothing beyond what's commonly available in an apothecary."
Dewi interrupted, her voice firm but uncertain, "Sir, you do realise this is a medical matter. I can't just hand over pharmaceuticals, especially to someone without a medical licence."
Felzein's eyes met hers squarely, steady as a physician's hand, "I'm aware of the regulations, and I don't take this lightly. But trust me, I'm not guessing. I understand the pharmacodynamics and the proper proportions."
She hesitated, "But if there's a reaction, an adverse effect?"
"There's always a risk," Felzein said evenly. "But not from what I'm preparing. I know the therapeutic window. I'm not asking for morphine or tetracaine, just a mild topical formulation to accelerate bruising resolution."
Melati, who had been silently absorbing the exchange, finally found her voice, "It's all right, Dewi. I trust him. If this can help make it go away, even a little, I'm willing."
Dewi stood still for a moment longer, the professional in her waging battle with the human heart.
At last, she let out a long, weary sigh.
"Very well," she said at last, her voice quiet but resolute. "But I'm supervising everything. One misstep, and we stop."
Behind the dark veil of his mask, Felzein's smile was subtle, measured, yet telling, "Much appreciated. Now then, I'll need a few essentials. Arnica gel, Heparin sodium gel, Aloe vera, Vitamin K cream, and if fortune favours us, an extract of Centella Asiatica. I'll also require a suitable base petroleum jelly or an emollient cream should suffice."
Dewi hesitated for a moment, visibly weighing her options.
Though uncertainty lingered in her eyes, she eventually turned on her heel and disappeared into the dispensary.
Rosa, meanwhile, regarded Felzein with a mixture of awe and incredulity, "Sir… can you truly concoct your own medicine?"
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable save for the hint of mischief in his gaze.
"There's no harm in trying. With the right components, bruising can be coaxed into retreat."
Moments later, Dewi returned, arms cradling an assortment of tubes and vials, "This is what we have on hand," she said, her voice still tinged with caution. "I hope it'll be enough."
Felzein received the assortment of ingredients with a faint nod of gratitude, his expression barely visible beneath the dark mask that concealed the lower half of his face.
Without hesitation, he turned towards the counter, his movements purposeful, almost meditative.
He retrieved a small, sterilised porcelain bowl, its surface pristine, and placed it gently upon the work surface.
Into this, he dispensed half a teaspoon of Heparin Sodium Gel, its cool translucence catching the light.
"This," he said in a low, composed voice, "will hasten the reabsorption of pooled blood beneath the skin, a remedy for the bruising."
Next, he carefully measured a teaspoon of Arnica Gel, its herbal scent subtly rising into the air.
"Arnica is nature's salve for trauma. It tempers inflammation and speeds the body's quiet labour of repair."
He turned to the thick aloe leaf, freshly cut.
With the precision of someone well acquainted with botanical remedies, he extracted several drops of its soothing gel and folded it gently into the mixture with a small spatula.
"Aloe vera will ease the skin's distress, and keep irritation at bay."
Then came the Vitamin K cream. He pressed the tube softly, allowing a modest portion to fall into the blend.
"Vitamin K," he murmured, "fortifies the capillaries, encourages the dispersal of discolouration, and restores what violence has unsettled beneath the surface."
With great care, he added a few precious drops of Centella Asiatica extract, each one dark and potent, before incorporating them with slow, rhythmic turns of the spatula.
"This," he said with reverence, "is for regeneration. To summon the skin's memory of what it was before the wound."
At last, he reached for a dollop of petroleum jelly, its neutral base binding the elements into a cohesive whole.
He folded it through with practiced grace until the mixture formed a silken balm, soft and even in texture.
Something between medicine and miracle, born of knowledge and gentle intent.
He paused for a moment, observing his work in silence, then looked up, his eyes meeting Melati's.
"It's ready," he said, his tone quiet yet resolute, offering not only a balm, but something far rare, a sense of care.
Melati gazed at the pale ointment with quiet hesitation, her fingers twitching slightly in her lap.
"Sir… are you quite certain this will help?"
Felzein, his expression calm beneath the black mask, gave a faint but confident smile.
"Have faith. I wouldn't offer anything that could cause you harm."
With a delicacy that belied his clinical precision, he scooped a whisper of the cream onto his fingertip and, with a gentleness that bordered on reverence, applied it to the bruised arc of her cheek.
The effect was immediate.
A breath of coolness unfurled across her skin, crisp as dew at dawn, chased moments later by a slow, spreading warmth that sank deep, like the embrace of sunlight on frost.
"How does it feel?" Rosa's voice broke the hush, almost a whisper.
Melati blinked, her lashes fluttering, "It's strange… cool, and then warm. Almost as though it's alive…"
Felzein inclined his head, pleased, "That's precisely what we want. The compounds are activating. If the mixture holds, the discolouration should begin to lift within minutes."
A quiet expectancy settled over the room. All eyes, Rosa's, Dewi's, even the usually sceptical Ocha's, fixed upon Melati, as though watching a spell take hold.
And then, as if nature herself heeded Felzein's alchemy, the bruising, once vivid and cruel across her fair skin, began to retreat.
First subtly, a softening of colour, then more pronounced, as the violet and indigo faded like dusk giving way to dawn.
Rosa's lips parted in astonishment, and Dewi took an involuntary step closer, her brow furrowed in disbelief.
Before their very eyes, the ugly traces of violence dissolved, replaced by the unmarred porcelain of Melati's skin, flawless once more, as though pain had never touched her.
For a moment, no one spoke. It was not silence borne of uncertainty, but of awe.
As if, in that modest treatment room, something bordering on the miraculous had just occurred.
Melati stared in stunned amazement as Rosa and Dewi remained rooted to the spot, their expressions vacant, as if struggling to grasp the reality before them.
"Dewi! Ocha! What on earth is the matter with you? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, genuine puzzlement creasing her brow.
Rosa said nothing at first. Instead, she reached into her pocket and produced a small hand mirror, which she extended silently towards Melati.
"Have a look yourself," she said quietly, her voice steady yet laden with significance.
With a curious frown, Melati took the mirror and held it up. The instant her eyes met her reflection, they widened in disbelief.
The bruising that had shadowed her cheeks moments before had completely vanished, leaving her skin flawless and unmarked, as though no injury had ever been there.
A gasp escaped her lips, half incredulous, half triumphant, "Am I really healed? This quickly?" she breathed, her voice trembling between wonder and joy.
Melati's exuberant cry had scarcely echoed before Rasya and Wina, stationed like sentinels at the entrance, straightened with alarm.
A glance passed swiftly between them, an unspoken pact, and in an instant they were sprinting toward the rear room.
BANG!
The door burst open with a dramatic thud.
"What's happened?!" Rasya demanded, her eyes darting around the room, every muscle tense, bracing for calamity.
"Nothing's wrong…" Melati replied, her face radiant with disbelief and delight.
"My bruise! It's completely healed!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with incredulous joy.
Rasya blinked, visibly thrown, "Healed? Instantly?"
She stepped forward, inspecting Melati's face with narrowed eyes, then reached out cautiously to touch the very spot where the bluish welt had marred her skin just minutes earlier.
"What on earth did you use, Mel?" she asked, her voice laced with wonder.
Melati shook her head, still reeling from the change, "Mr Felzein made something. I've no idea what it was exactly. He mixed it himself."
Rasya's gaze shifted, sharp and searching, to Felzein, "You're serious? You concocted it right here?"
Felzein gave a mild shrug, his tone unassuming, "A fortunate guess, perhaps," he said lightly.
"I know a little," he added, downplaying the skill that had so clearly stunned the room.
Rasya's eyes remained fixed on him, narrowed in a blend of curiosity and cautious respect.
Beside her, Dewi and Rosa exchanged silent looks, still struggling to digest what they had just witnessed.
"Well then…" Felzein said calmly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "If you'll excuse me."
And with that, he turned and strode for the door, his footsteps measured, as if the extraordinary were nothing more than a footnote in his day.
Felzein paused mid-step, his hand still resting on the door handle, as Dewi stepped deftly into his path.
"Mr Felzein… you're a doctor, aren't you?" she asked, her tone laced with quiet determination, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
He gave a faint, enigmatic smile, "Merely a frequent visitor to this pharmacy," he replied airily, his words cloaked in nonchalance.
But Dewi stood firm, "Please. I need the truth," she insisted, her voice now taut with conviction.
With a resigned sigh, Felzein slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, drew out a sleek leather holder, and opened it without ceremony.
He held out the card to her wordlessly.
Dewi took it and froze. Her eyes scanned the lettering, and then widened, "This is… a General Medical Council registration card?" she whispered. "You're registered? You're actually a doctor?!"
Felzein gave a slight nod, as though confirming something trivial, "So it would seem."