“Your weight gain is doing quite well,” Doctor Amartha said, Fletcher’s chief caretaker.

  Fletcher smiled. He was glad that forcing himself to eat all—okay, most—of the food placed before him for every meal was finally paying off. He was itching to get out of the hospital and be back out in the world where he had freedom for things like peeing on his own. It’d been a week and a half of being in the hospital, and he was very ready to be free.

  In accordance with that desire, he’d followed his father’s advice and selected the Hexing option for a quicker and more full recovery rather than waiting it out. As much as taking on those extra conversion points was going to suck, he was still at a rather low percentage to start with, so it hopefully wouldn’t bring out any long-lasting side effects. The problem was that if he did happen to gain another [Demanlic] trait, the whole [Vampire] masquerade was as good as dead.

  “Since the infections and pneumonia are cleared up, does that mean I can go through with the Hexing procedure?” he asked.

  Amartha bit her lip. “You are gaining weight, but you’re not even close to your target.”

  “But I have gained a good amount back,” Fletcher argued. They had this debate almost every day it felt like. “Surely it’s enough for a little Hexing.”

  “Eager to get out?”

  Fletcher laughed. “Yes. Very. Come on, Doc. I’ve been good about following orders. I’m sure you’re as sick of me as I am of this bed.”

  She sighed and nodded. “Alright. I’ll put in the order for the conversion procedure on one condition.”

  “Anything,” he pledged.

  “You have to keep up with weekly check ups until you’re back to your target weight. I don’t want you setting back into some intense exercise regiment and losing all the progress you’ve made.”

  He nodded. “Easy enough.”

  She smiled. “Okay. I figured you would say that, so I actually put the order in this morning. You’re scheduled to go in two hours. Let’s get you ready.”

  Fletcher sat up more. He was getting pretty good at only using his left hand for everything, but he was very excited about the prospect of getting use of his dominant hand back. “Really? That soon?”

  “Medical Hexing has priority over elective Hexing,” the doctor explained. “Your family has been alerted to the procedure as well so they’ll be there for support. For now, we need to get the casts off and make sure we’re not leaving anything on you that might interfere with the healing.”

  Fletcher gestured. “Whatever you need.”

  Amartha called in a nurse, and together they worked to remove all of Fletcher’s bandages, stitches, and casts. It hurt quite a bit getting all the medical stuff removed, especially when his bones weren’t healed yet, but he was willing to endure a little bit of pain for the dream of being completely healed by the evening. Even with his father paying him daily visits, and Nora, Jeric, and Addy cycling days to see him, he still had more than enough time to be bored out of his mind. He did get weekly visits from a therapist since they were all convinced he was traumatized after Vesi.

  He supposed he was in a lot of ways, but he was a bit miffed it was forced on him without anyone asking what he wanted. However, given it was kind of helpful, he decided to stick with it.

  It took quite a bit of time for them to free him from the casts and then get him properly situated in a wheelchair.

  “Okay. Just in time. Let’s get you up to the facility,” Amartha said, taking control of the chair.

  “How much radiation will I have to take on for the healing?” he asked as they went.

  “[Vampires] convert at a slightly slower rate than average, but there’s no telling how many percentage points it’ll take for the self-healing to kick in.” The doctor pushed him out of the room and into the hallway where they passed nurses and other medical personnel.

  Fletcher shifted in the chair, suddenly aware of the fact that he was only in a hospital gown which didn’t provide all that much coverage. But soon he’d be back to wearing regular clothes and being able to dress himself and shower and eat something besides hospital food.

  The journey up to the Hexing facility was lengthy and uncomfortable. It turned out that having half-healed broken bones outside of casts getting jostled around was a bit of a painful experience. To make matters worse, it was then coupled with the embarrassment of wearing a hospital gown as he, a grown man, was pushed in a wheelchair through the hallways of the base.

  Eventually they arrived at the entrance to the Hexing facility. Technically it was still located in Finnack Mountain Base, but it was only connected by a single tunnel over a mile long. They took a shuttle to get there, and when they got off, a metal door three feet thick slid open to let them into the actual facility.

  Inside was a scene eerily familiar to that of the Unhuman version of a conversion facility, with blank concrete walls, though the Mixed had metal doors all over to use in case of a radiation overflow.

  As Amartha pushed him through the stark hallways, Fletcher started to doubt himself, wondering if this was going to be worth it after all. His father was convinced that his conversion percentage was still too low for him to worry about gaining any other [Demanlic] traits, but it was hard to accept that he was going to lose a part of his very Humanity in exchange for quick healing. During those long days in the hospital bed, he’d been sure it was a worthwhile exchange, but now that the time had come, he second guessed the choice.

  All the possible ways this could go very wrong flashed into his head as Doctor Amartha pushed him into a small room full of computer screens and control consoles. His dad, Nora, Jeric, and Addy were there along with a couple of technicians.

  “Ready?” his father asked with more enthusiasm than Fletcher felt appropriate for the situation.

  “I guess,” he muttered.

  “Oh come on, Fletch. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a little Humanity. Who needs all of it anyway?” Nora said with a grin.

  “Sounds like you want to join me in there,” he countered.

  “Ha. You’re funny.” She reached down to ruffle his head.

  He shoved her hand away. “Knock it off.”

  “Touchy, touchy.” She shook her head, still grinning.

  Everyone seemed to be in a rather jolly mood considering he was about to get dumped into a bunch of Hexing radiation which would painfully heal him.

  “Let’s get him set up in there.” One of the technicians came over to them, interrupting the teasing.

  From what Fletcher could tell, she was entirely Unhuman, a [Vampire], like what he pretended to be. Her skin was white, whiter than any Human could ever be, along with her hair. Her eyes were red, not quite the same shade as his, and she had fangs that were obvious every time she spoke.

  “I’m Sergeant Gilva. I’ll be in charge of your Hexing procedure today,” she said as she took over pushing his wheelchair.

  Gilva took him through another door in the control room into a much larger room that was entirely encased in metal. The actual radiation room. She positioned his chair at the center and then went over to the wall where she grabbed a small device from the wall and brought it back over to him.

  “This is the emergency stop. You have complete control over when to end the radiation surge. You can push it whenever you want, but given this is a Hexing for a healing, if you want the full benefits, you should wait until you are sure you’ve been completely healed. Do you understand?” The woman stared at him.

  “Yes,” Fletcher said, finding his mouth exceptionally dry all of the sudden. He gripped the small cylindrical device with his left hand, keeping his thumb away from the bright red button on top. He didn’t need it yet.

  “Okay. I’ll be in the control room. There will be a countdown, and then the procedure will begin.” She walked away, leaving him entirely alone in the metal cell.

  Fletcher’s heart pounded in his chest, and he found it difficult to take full breaths. This was really happening. He was willingly taking on more radiation. That was crazy. What was he thinking?

  Adjusting in the chair sent waves of pain through his body, reminding him why he was doing this. He had to. He needed to get back on his feet and start living again.

  Three beeps echoed through the room, and then two, and then one. The countdown was complete.

  Within a second of the final beep, a strong tingling started across Fletcher’s entire body. The Hexing radiation. The procedure officially began.

  After a minute or so of sitting in the tingling, he shifted around in his chair. His skin was scratchy, but other than that, there were no signs of the Hexing really doing anything to him. He had no idea how long it would take to go up even a single conversion point, and even that might not be enough. He could be here for a while given he converted slower than any other species by a large margin. That was one thing he forgot to take into account when agreeing to this.

  As the procedure continued as nothing more than the itching sensation, Fletcher’s nerves continued to grow, and he spiraled back into doubting the wisdom in doing this. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should just press the button and heal up the old fashioned way.

  Fletcher grimaced as the tingling sensation increased tenfold, and he nearly dropped the stop button so he could instead scratch at the feeling encompassing his body. To distract himself from the discomfort, he practiced his mental math, ranging from multiplying two large numbers to taking derivatives of made up equations.

  And then a white set of text appeared in the corner of his vision.

  [Conversion Percentage Increased by 1%]

  [Conversion Percentage: 7%]

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He made a face. All that time, and he only went up a single point? And there was no sign of healing yet. Deities, this really sucked.

  Returning to his made-up math test, Fletcher continued juggling various numbers and variables around his head until the process repeated, and he got the second notification.

  [Conversion Percentage Increased by 1%]

  [Conversion Percentage: 8%]

  “Oh, come on. How long is this going to take?” he muttered. The itching was incessant. If he had full use of his right hand, he probably would have scratched several layers of skin off, but the only thing that saved him was the broken arm.

  Fletcher continued to sit there in his misery and anxiety, his left thumb hovering above the button. Perhaps it was better to cut his losses and quit now when he’d only taken on a few more percentage points. What if [Demanlics] didn’t react the same for the self-healing part of Hexing? What if he needed way more conversion points than anyone expected to heal?

  His worries were cut short as a sharp pain erupted along both his legs, and he found himself screaming before he could stop himself. Fletcher was extraordinarily aware of the bones in his body melding back together, and then the pain shifted to his arm where the bones in his forearm did the same. He was keenly conscious of his skin bubbling and burning in various places, curing the remnants of the burns and cuts.

  But the healing didn’t stop there. He gasped, convulsing from the pain, and collapsed from the wheelchair to the ground when the inside of both ears exploded into fiery pain, a certain clogged feeling making it so he could hardly hear his own ragged breathing.

  More spots on his skin ached, and he recognized them as old scars from wounds he got during the battle at Vesi or even during training. The self-healing went so far as to perfect every part of his body, regardless of how old the injuries or scars.

  And then, as quickly as it hit, it was gone. All that was left was the tingling sensation and another notification in the corner of his vision.

  [Conversion Percentage Increased by 1%]

  [Conversion Percentage: 9%]

  Struggling to catch his breath as sweat dripped in his eyes, Fletcher pushed himself up from the floor and fumbled around the ground with his hands until he found the emergency stop. Without hesitation, he slammed down on the button.

  The tingling slowly lessened until it disappeared completely within a minute. Fletcher stretched out on the cool metal, still trying to calm his racing heart. But it was over. He was healed. Moving didn’t hurt one bit, he no longer had his intense nicotine cravings, and as far as he could tell, he looked as Human as he had before.

  Just to be sure, he groped along his back, finding it smooth, and then he checked his head, but it was only his usual blond hair. No horns, no wings. That was a good sign. No more [Demanlic] parts.

  The metal door opened, and Sergeant Gilva entered.

  “Did it work?” she asked.

  Fletcher sat up, using both arms for the first time in a very long time. “Yeah. It worked. I’m healed.”

  She nodded, her lips tight.

  Addy was behind her, and she pushed past to enter the room, apparently not caring about any radiation that might be lingering.

  “I’ll take him from here, Sergeant. And remember, this is classified. Lieutenant Anders’ unique status is still being investigated, and it’s vital that it remains hidden,” Addy said as she walked to Fletcher.

  “I understand, ma’am. The report will say that it was a standard Hexing to heal procedure,” Gilva confirmed.

  “Good. Dismissed.” Addy knelt beside Fletcher as the Sergeant exited.

  “You told her?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Yes. We had to tell her about your unique blood marker that makes you semi-immune to Hexing,” Addy explained.

  Oh, so a lie that covered for the fact that he converted so slowly.

  “Okay,” he said tensely.

  She held her hand out. “Come on. Let’s go see the others.”

  He accepted the help up, his legs a little unsteady after going so long without use. But it felt good to walk again. Really good. And given he was still basically all himself, he decided that it was a worthwhile trade after all. And as long as he avoided getting tortured to such an extreme again, he might actually be able to avoid this kind of procedure going forward, and maybe even avoid taking on anymore Hexing.

  They walked back to the control room. The technicians and Doctor Amartha were gone, leaving only his father, Nora, and Jeric.

  “How are you feeling?” his dad asked, grabbing his shoulder as he entered.

  “Better than ten minutes ago,” Fletcher joked.

  “Well you look worse,” Nora responded with a grin.

  “Ha. Ha.” He rolled his eyes.

  “How much did you convert?” Jeric asked.

  “Three percent,” he answered. “More than I would have liked.”

  Addy whistled. “That’s… impressive.”

  “Why? I thought the normal was between one to five percent.” Fletcher crossed his arms, even more uncomfortable to be in only a hospital gown now that he was fully healed.

  “The amount of radiation you took on would have given me at least thirty-five percent,” Addy said. “We had to crank it past the safe maximum to get it to do anything in a timely manner. Thus, we had to tell the doctor and technicians that you have a special gene that affects Hexing, rather than…”

  “Right. Thanks,” Fletcher said quickly. He didn’t like mentioning the [Demanlic] thing out loud, especially in places he didn’t know for a fact were secure.

  “Well, why don’t we get you into something proper to wear and then get you settled back into your quarters?” His father wrapped his arm around Fletcher’s shoulders. “I’m glad it worked out. And see? Still mostly Human.”

  “Yeah. You were right,” Fletcher admitted. “Someone does have a change of clothes for me, right?”

  Laughing, his father went over to a backpack leaning against the wall and produced a set of clothes. Fletcher returned to the small metal cell to change, leaving the hospital gown behind. It felt good to wear pants again. And walk. And just, be whole.

  Jeric led the way out of the control room once Fletcher was appropriately dressed. Nora and Addy were just behind him, and then Fletcher followed with his father on his heels.

  As they went, the others chatted about a lot of regular life stuff, and Fletcher did his best to join in, but in reality, he felt very out of the loop and just out of place in general. He was used to Vesi where he always had something pressing to do, and his conversations were always about what needed to be done. It was strange to exist without the weight of everything pressing down on him.

  A short shuttle ride and a long walk later, they arrived at the officer housing part of the base. Jeric and Addy peeled off to go to their own apartment, Addy congratulating him as they parted. Nora split off as well, claiming she had work to do. She patted Fletcher’s head despite the fact he was taller than her.

  “Bye, baby brother. Let me know when you want a rematch on the treadmills. I’ve got a hankering to whip your butt again,” she said.

  “Just you wait until I’m in shape again,” Fletcher warned.

  She smiled and waved as she walked away, leaving him alone with his father.

  Sebastian took the lead the rest of the way, taking him through several more hallways of the same style of door with only numbers to differentiate them.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but once the doctor told me you were going in for the procedure, I went ahead and moved your stuff in ahead of time,” his father said.

  Fletcher smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “I just wanted it to feel like home already.” Sebastian smiled back and then motioned to the door just before them. “Quarters Beta-4276. I managed to pull a couple of strings to get you something private since I didn’t think you’d want to share.”

  He nodded. “You’re right about that. Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate you doing all this for me.”

  His father pushed him forward. “I figured I had a lot to make up for. But go on. Go inside.”

  Fletcher raised an eyebrow as he scanned his finger at the door lock. Why was his father so eager for him to see a tiny bedroom full of his own belongings?

  A beep of approval sounded, and then the metal door slid open to reveal exactly what he expected. A small studio apartment that barely fit a bed, couch, dining table, and kitchenette. There was a door to a closet on one wall, and a door to a bathroom next to it.

  His few belongings were spread out and put away. Except some of them weren’t even his. Such as the fluffy pillow thing on the floor next to the couch? And a random bowl of water on the ground?

  Before he could properly process what it meant, a hunk of black and white fur shot out of nowhere and into Fletcher's chest.

  “Backup!” Fletcher barely managed to catch the dog and hold him up. He’d definitely been eating well. He was a lot more hefty than Fletcher remembered. “But… how? What is he doing here?”

  “Your mother brought him back for you. It was all her,” Sebastian said, reaching over to scratch Backup’s ears. “He went through pet training, and then I took care of him while you recovered.”

  “Ah. Now I get why you were so eager for me to take the faster healing,” Fletcher said with a knowing smile.

  “He’s a good dog,” his father said.

  “Thank you, Dad. And tell Mom thanks for me. I can’t believe it.” Fletcher set Backup down and crouched down to give him proper attention. “I really get to keep him?”

  “Mmhmm. I don’t want him, and I don’t think Nora’s cat would appreciate the company,” Sebastian replied.

  Fletcher smiled wider. His dog, here in Finnack with him. Okay, this was better than anything he could have expected.

  “I left a map marked with the dog parks and pet relief areas. And of course, you’re always welcome to take him outside the main park, but it is a bit cold for that still. Anyway, I’ll let you get settled. I got a dinner reservation tonight at nineteen-hundred if you feel up to it,” his father continued.

  “That would be great. I’ll see you for that,” Fletcher agreed.

  “See you then.” His father waved and left.

  Fletcher went inside the room, taking Backup with him. He sat on the couch, and the dog curled up next to him. He was unbelievably happy about having his best friend with him all the way from Vesi Station, half the world away.

  His moments of bliss were interrupted when the door chimed a few minutes later.

  “I guess Dad forgot to tell me something,” Fletcher said to Backup as he stood from the couch.

  Opening the door, he stiffened to find Major Simpson standing there.

  “Major,” he said. What could he want?

  “Lieutenant,” Simpson said with a neutral face. “You’re looking well. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” Fletcher said. Was this about his mom? It had to be, right? Simpson was her personal lackey after all.

  “Good to hear. I’m just here to drop off your new orders for your next posting.” Simpson held out an envelope.

  “Oh. Thank you… sir.” Fletcher accepted the envelope.

  “Your checkup to be cleared for active duty is tomorrow, right?” Simpson asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Fletcher stared at the man, wondering why he was waiting around. He delivered the orders. Why the small talk?

  “Good. Then I expect I’ll be seeing you in two days.”

  “Hmm?” Fletcher paused.

  “You’re working under me now, kid.” Simpson smiled, a certain glint in his eyes that Fletcher did not like.

  “Uh, what? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? With my mom?” he asked.

  Simpson laughed. “You’re under me, not General Anders directly. Technically you even being in the military would be a conflict of interest by that logic.”

  “B-but…” Fletcher was floored. What was he going to do with Simpson of all people?

  “The details are in the orders. I’ll see you later, Lieutenant. Oh, and don’t be late. I’m not very forgiving to tardiness,” Simpson warned.

  Fletcher huffed as the Major walked away. This was not at all what he expected. Closing the door, he returned to the couch where Backup patiently waited.

  He glanced at the envelope in his hands. Time to see what the future lay in store for him. Ripping it open, he unfolded the papers and scanned through them. Okay, yeah. Definitely not what he expected.