𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒' 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐆 | 𝘷𝘢𝘥𝘵𝘥 𝘹 𝘔.𝘺/𝘯 |

(39) A Desperate Gamble.

"........,"

The words, "The little lady, Alissa, is dying!" landed like a physical blow, shattering the carefree facade of the evening.

The jovial atmosphere, once thick with laughter and the heady scent of wine, dissipated like morning mist, leaving in its wake a chilling, stark reality.

A cold dread seeped into my bones as the haze of alcohol evaporated.

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat a stark reminder of the impending catastrophe.

"What?" I managed to croak, my voice a hoarse whisper. "What happened?"

Hans, his face etched with grief, struggled to articulate the horror.

His words tumbled over each other in a desperate torrent.

"She fell ill suddenly, Your Grace. The doctors... they're doing everything, but..."

His voice trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air.

Panic, a wild, untamed beast, clawed its way to the forefront of my mind.

Pushing past Hans, I raced towards Alissa's room, my heart a frantic drumbeat in my ears.

The world narrowed to a tunnel, focusing solely on the small girl.

The room was a sterile, tense environment, filled with the hushed activity of medical professionals.

Their faces, grim and determined, reflected the gravity of the situation.

Alissa, a fragile porcelain doll, lay still on the bed, her tiny chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

Bun-Bun, our constant companion, was nestled in her arms, a silent witness to her suffering.

A sob tore from my throat as I reached her bedside.

"Alissa!"

My voice was a desperate plea.

"Please, stay with me. Fight, my darling, fight!"

The doctors exchanged solemn glances.

"We're doing everything in our power, Your Grace," one of them said softly, their voice laced with compassion. "But we need to determine the cause of this."

Desperation gnawed at me.

My mind raced, searching for answers, for a miracle.

I squeezed Alissa's hand, my grip tight and trembling.

"You are strong, Alissa," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You are so strong."

Hans stood by my side, his face pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and sorrow.

He now held Bun-Bun tightly, as if the white bunny was a lifeline in this storm.

His sobs were a mournful melody, his grief a palpable weight in the suffocating atmosphere.

Bun-Bun, the small creature, offered futile comfort with a gentle lick, his soft fur a stark contrast to the despair that filled the room.

A physician, his face etched with fatigue and worry, stepped forward.

His voice, heavy with the burden of his words, broke the tense silence.

"Your Grace, it appears to be a severe fever, a potentially fatal condition if not treated swiftly."

My voice was a sharp counterpoint to his somber tone.

"Then treat it!" Desperation clawed at my composure, "What are you waiting for?"