"Uwaaah! Mommy!!!"
The cry of a child tore through the thick, tense air the moment Mark stepped inside the house. The small space was heavy with emotion—panic, grief, fear.
Women were already sobbing quietly in corners. The scent of sweat and something metallic—maybe the snake's venom or just fear—hung in the air.
The place had the grim stillness of something irreversible… something final.
And yet, she wasn't gone.
Not yet.
His fingers twitched as Selina—his sister-in-law—tightened her grip on his hand. She was tense, her body stiff with anxiety. Her knuckles were pale.
It wasn't surprising. In this village, everyone knew everyone. More than that—they relied on each other. There were no strangers here, only extended family.
That was why he and his brother had survived without parents. That was why Meg, even after losing her husband, was never alone.
Mark felt a strange warmth in his chest.
A simple, raw feeling: community.
A type of closeness people in his old world had long forgotten. A place where even the poorest shared their food and even the quietest wept when someone else was hurting.
The crowd pulled back as Mark and Selina stepped closer to the hay mat on the floor. There, surrounded by worried women, lay Meg.
Meg—still young, still beautiful, but now ghostly pale.
Her breathing was shallow.
Her lips trembled as she clung to the last thread of consciousness.
A woman nearby held her four-year-old daughter, who was crying loudly and calling for her mother again and again.
The child's voice was hoarse, desperate.
Mark's heart twisted at the sight.
The men stood silently at the edges, their expressions long and dark—as if attending a funeral in advance. Some clenched their fists. Others simply looked down, helpless.
And Meg—God, she was barely hanging on.
Even as Mark studied her condition, a part of his brain registered things no man should have been thinking in such a moment.
Her thin robe clung to her skin.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, her full, maternal bosom betraying that she was still nursing.
Her hips—broad, healthy.
Her skin—paler than most women in the village, even paler than Selina's, who stood right beside him.
She's still full of life…
Still beautiful.
Mark shook his thoughts. 'What the fuck am I thinking?'
He asked himself, feeling weird for having those kinds of thoughts about someone who was on the verge of death.
'But... can't I help her?'
Mark thought to himself as he looked at the crying child and the worried people around.
'But I don't want to get exposed...'
Mark was the kind of man who wanted to do good—but not in the spotlight.
If there was anything he hated more than an overbearing boss, it was being in the limelight.
A nobody is ignored, but a popular one is targeted by everyone. That was his philosophy. It's why he never stood out.
But, Even without standing out, he was still targeted—still thrown under the bus by his boss.
But that was the talk of his past life though, in this life? Standing out didn't just mean losing a job.
It could mean being enslaved... or being killed.
The previous owner of this body wasn't a fool—just unlucky. And Mark wasn't a fool either.
He knew the risks. He couldn't let anyone find out what kind of trait he had awakened.
If they discovered he had Debuff Transfer, which let him absorb other people's status conditions, he'd be forced into a healer role in some adventurer party—or worse, turned into a lab rat for a mad wizard.
And if not them, the church or some noble house might use him to bear their curses, their illnesses, or whatever else was haunting their bloodline.
It could be anything. That's why he had to stay quiet.
Thankfully, his second trait countered the first one—almost like a god-given blessing. It allowed him to nullify and recover from those debuffs instantly, without lingering effects.
But again... only he knew that.
And he intended to keep it that way.
Mark leaned close to Selina and whispered, "Sister-in-law… there are too many people here. It's too cramped. She needs air. And space. Let's… clear the room."
Selina blinked. Snapped out of her haze. Then her sharp village instincts kicked in.
"Hey!" she barked. "What are you all doing here?! Back off! Let some air in! You're suffocating her! Go, go—let us handle this!"
People looked at each other, startled. But no one objected.
One by one, they filed out. One woman, still crying, handed the small girl to Selina. "Please… take care of Meg," she choked out.
Selina nodded.
And then—just like that—it was quiet.
Only Mark, Selina, Meg, and the crying child remained inside.