Chapter Text
The Interastral Peace Corporation (IPC) is the universe’s most powerful company, dedicated to Qlipoth, the Aeon of Preservation. Ever since it was first created, their singular goal is to give everything to the Amber Lord. Under this lofty ambition, they introduced the universal currency of credits, gaining absolute dominance over wealth.
The Intelligentsia Guild is an open academic organization, advocating that “all knowledge must be circulated like currency.” Unlike the famed Genius Society, which only accepts the cream of the crop, the Intelligentsia Guild welcomes all beings who seek to learn.
The IPC often provides funds for the Intelligentsia Guild and their projects, with the condition that the company gains rights to the final outputs; whether it be research or inventions. The IPC also commissions the guild for some projects, requesting the help of certain members.
“Doctor,” a voice singsonged, followed by the sound of a door slamming open.
Dr. Veritas Ratio sighed as he looked up from his computer, observing the blond-haired man before him. Said man had carelessly closed the door of the office, then walked up to Veritas’ desk.
The doctor raised an eyebrow at the blond, “Why are you here?”
Aventurine grinned and lifted his right hand, palm facing away from himself, while he hid his left arm behind him. Then, he closed his right fist. When he opened it a second later, he was holding a poker chip from who-knows-where. Offering the chip to Veritas, his face softened slightly.
“The IPC has requested the Intelligentsia Guild’s assistance. They’ve specifically asked for you to work on the project, and they’ve assigned me as your partner,” Aventurine announced, settling down on the seat in front of the desk.
“They’re truly fond of grouping us together,” Veritas remarked offhandedly. At that, the blond man visibly flinched. The doctor frowned, why did the comment induce such a reaction?
Aventurine was an executive of the IPC; one of the Ten Stonehearts from the Strategic Investment Department. Despite his high-ranking position of P45, he had a reputation of being a reckless gambler, often leaving things up to chance. When Veritas was first paired up with him, he expected the man to be foolish and dimwitted. However, upon meeting him, the executive proved to be very calculating and clever. Hearing his elaborate schemes, it was obvious that he put a great deal of planning into them.
Safe to say, Veritas was pleasantly surprised upon their partnership. Although the blond was indeed imprudent, he was much easier to work with — especially when compared to the idiots that Veritas often had to deal with.
Thanks to their flawless cooperation, their first mission resulted in an exceptionally advantageous outcome for the IPC. Ever since then, the company seemed to decide that they’d be more efficient together. In the tasks that followed, the two of them were able to grow closer. Veritas would even go so far as to say that they formed a companionship of sorts.
“Aw, do you not like it, doc? Ah, but I’m always honored to be your partner, y’know,” Aventurine’s words pulled him out of his thoughts. The executive behaved with his regular charming facade, but the doctor noticed how he grit his teeth slightly.
“Quite the contrary,” Veritas replied. “I appreciate your company over those other ignorant fools’.”
In fact, he’d even come to enjoy being with the gambler. Though, he didn’t say that aloud.
He watched as the gambler’s face morphed into a stunned expression, as though caught off guard by the sincerity. Without warning, Aventurine suddenly broke into a violent fit of coughs, his entire body jerking with the force.
Veritas quickly rose from his seat, rushing over to the man. “I’m – I’m fine,” Aventurine rasped, barely even able to catch his breath. “Could you – cough – get me water?”
“...Alright,” the doctor conceded, before hurrying to the nearest break room. Fortunately, most people were working at the time, saving him from waiting in a line.
A few minutes later, he returned to his office to find Aventurine hunched over the floor — thankfully, his coughing had eased, reduced to soft wheezes. He quietly locked the door; Aventurine wouldn’t want others to see such vulnerable moments.
Kneeling next to him, Veritas offered the cup of water. The blond ardently gulped it down, emptying the glass within seconds. Finally lowering it from his face, he murmured, “Thanks.”
Veritas took the cup from Aventurine’s hand, standing up to place it on his desk. He then extended his hand to the gambler, using it to pull him up from the floor. Once they were both back on their respective chairs, Veritas demanded, “Care to explain what that was?”
Returning to his usual sly persona, Aventurine forced out a confused laugh, “I’m not sure what you mean, doc. It was just some random coughing fit—”
“Spare me the lies, gambler. There are still stains of blood on your face and the floor. One does not spit out blood from a ‘random coughing fit.’”
The man froze, gazing downwards. Sure enough, the red smudges stood out against the white tiles. Looking away, he not-so-subtly wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand.
“Moreover,” Veritas continued. “Your left hand has been tightly clenched since I returned. The way you act suggests that you’re holding something. Just what are you hiding?”
Sparing a quick glance at his fist, the man slumped. “How are you sure that I’m not just nervous?” he asked resignedly. “But yes, you’re right as always.”
Veritas crossed his arms, indicating for him to continue.
“It’s really nothing much. I’ve just… gotten a bit sick,” Aventurine chuckled dryly, opening his fist to reveal flower petals, speckled with blood. “Have you heard of it, doctor? Victims of this illness cough up flowers.”
“You… you have hanahaki? The flower-vomiting disease?” the doctor’s voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief coloring his tone. His heart felt heavy, a cold dread weighing over it.
The gambler gave him a crooked smile, pocketing the petals, “Ding, ding, ding! You really do know everything, huh?”
Veritas scowled at Aventurine’s attempts to brush off the severity of the situation. Hanahaki was a rare disease with few recorded cases, so it wasn’t recognized in the medical field. However, one critical aspect made it popular in literature.
“In order to contract that illness,” he grimly recalled. “One must be suffering from unrequited love.”
“Poetic, isn’t it?” the blond mused, staring at the empty glass of water. “To get sick because of a beautiful thing like love.”
“...How long has it been?” Veritas asked.
“Since I got hanahaki?” Aventurine thought it over. “Around… seven months, maybe? It was after our last mission.”
The doctor shot up from his chair, slamming his hands on the desk, “Gambler!”
The executive went wide-eyed, not expecting the sudden outburst.
Veritas sighed, pinching the area between his eyebrows while sitting down, “Gambler. Are you aware of the fatality rate for hanahaki?“
Aventurine shook his head, placing his left arm on top of the backrest, “You’ll have to inform me, doc.”
“As of now, there have been thirty-four recorded instances of hanahaki — barely enough to gather data,” Veritas explained somberly.
“Ha, what a coincidence. I’m number thirty-five again,” the gambler muttered under his breath.
Unsure of what he meant, Veritas continued, “Out of those thirty-four, thirty-two of them died from the illness. Even with the limited data, it already has a fatality rate of ninety-four percent.”
The doctor clenched his fists, speaking softly, “Do you know when they succumbed to the disease? They all died exactly one year after they contracted hanahaki.”
“…It sure is looking bad for me, huh,” Aventurine grinned, but there was no joy nor humor on his face. “Oh, but what about the two survivors? How did they live?”
“They underwent surgery to remove the flowers’ roots,” Veritas answered, twining his hands together. “However, there are several requirements for this procedure.”
“Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. Do tell, doc.”
“Firstly, few surgeons are capable of the necessary precision. It would take much time and effort to find one,” he started. “Second, with the loss of the flowers, one also loses the memories of their beloved.”
Aventurine leaned back into his chair, “Ah, it’s no wonder only two people did it. Even if they found a good surgeon, they probably didn’t want to forget their loved one.”
Veritas nodded. He hesitated slightly before saying, “For the last condition… you must have hanahaki for less than five months, so the roots aren’t as strong.”
“Oh!” the gambler laughed incredulously, lowering his arm from the chair’s backrest, “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“…If you’d told me earlier, I could’ve been your surgeon,” Veritas grumbled. He was confident in his skills; he could’ve pulled off the procedure for Aventurine.
“Don’t worry about it, doc,” Aventurine smiled at him, but it was distant — cold. “I wouldn’t have chosen to have it anyway.”
The doctor’s chest ached at the blond’s actions. “Who is it?” he whispered. “Who is the object of your affections?”
Still maintaining that reserved expression, Aventurine replied, “You don’t have to know, Ratio.”
“Don’t be foolish, gambler. What if your love isn’t truly unrequited? I’ll help you,” Veritas pleaded. He couldn’t bear to stay idle, not when there was hope for Aventurine.
The blond’s frosty facade melted into something gentler. “It’s okay, doctor. I appreciate your concern, really,” he reassured. “But there’s no hope in that. They would never feel the same — that’s just a fact.”
Veritas couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting in his heart. Earlier, the gambler had implied that this person was too precious to forget. Despite that, he was certain of his sentiments not being returned. It meant a guaranteed death, yet he still refused to tell Veritas who it was.
How did they deserve such earnest love from Aventurine, who constantly put on a facade for others?
“...You damn gambler, what am I to do with you…” the doctor grumbled; partly from his helplessness, partly to brighten up the despairing atmosphere. After all, he couldn’t seem to do anything else for the man.
His efforts worked somewhat, and Aventurine gave a small, lighthearted giggle. After the heavy conversation they’d been having, Veritas almost smiled at the blond’s genuine amusement.
Their moment of peace was short-lived. Laughter subsiding, Aventurine reminded, “Let’s get back to our mission, doc.”
Just like that, Veritas immediately felt his frustration return. “Is the IPC not aware of your illness? You are in no state to be working, let alone continue with the strenuous tasks they assign you to,” he objected.
“Haha! How kind of you, Ratio. Mind writing me a doctor’s note to get out of work?” the executive reverted back to his regular teasing.
Veritas glared at him, though he would’ve complied had it not been in jest.
Aventurine ignored the dirty look, “Jokes aside, this isn’t like my usual missions. Unfortunately, you’ll have to put in most of the effort this time.”
The doctor felt a wave of relief wash over him. As long as the blond could take the chance to rest, he was willing to bear the extra work. “What’s the task, then?” he asked.
“It answers your question from earlier. Whether the company knows about my… condition,” Aventurine said. “Our goal is to develop a cure for hanahaki disease.”
Veritas felt his heartbeat quicken. It was perfect — he was hitting two birds with one stone; if he succeeded, he would complete an assignment from the IPC and save Aventurine.
Suddenly, a ringtone sounded between them.
“Ah. That’s mine,” the gambler said sheepishly, taking out his phone and checking the caller ID. “I have to take this.”
Holding the device by his ear, he greeted, “Aventurine of Stratagems here.”
A pause. The other person was speaking. Against Veritas’ will, his mind wondered if that was Aventurine’s beloved. It was a foolish thought; though he had asked for their identity, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the answer.
“I see. Alright, I’ll head there now,” the blond replied before ending the call. He lowered his phone, looking to the doctor, “Sorry doc, but I have to go — urgent business. That’ll be it for today, see you in our next meeting.”
“...Take care, gambler.”
Veritas watched as the executive left the room in a rush, catching a glimpse of the way he coughed as he hurriedly unlocked the door. The doctor was determined not to fail this mission — not if Aventurine's life was on the line.
In front of him, Veritas materialized his favorite codex. It was made from his Imaginary abilities as a Pathstrider, so it never ran out of pages. He used it for everything; from research projects to personal use. Now, it would help him cure Aventurine too.
Flipping to a new page, Veritas realized just how little he had to work with. He sighed.
Better get started, then.