Kaya froze. A moment ago her body had been sharp, ready to react. Now she stood still, almost carved from stone. Slowly, as if against her will, she turned her head toward the physician.
He rose from the ground without hurry, brushed the dust from his robe, and met her eyes with a calm that felt sharper than any blade. His voice was steady, unshaken.
"Sometimes your head feels like it's splitting apart. Other nights you can't sleep, no matter how tired your body is. And then—there are moments when blood calls to you. The sight of it excites you, stirs something you try to bury. Am I wrong?"
He didn't look away.
"You carry a dull ache in your chest. At times your left hand betrays you—numb, weak, tingling—then returns to normal as if nothing happened. Sometimes even your whole body feels on the edge of collapse, only to snap back. Tell me… am I wrong?"
Silence pressed in.
