Round № 0001
Examination room IIIAttending hostthe chair is empty
Blood drawn0.0000 ETH
LEECH for the pyre0 LEECH
Prior closures0000
Conditiondormant · awaiting first dose
↪— awaiting the first patient.
Blood drawn
0.0000ETH
The leech is the oldest physician. Where the surgeon's lance leaves a ragged wound, the leech draws blood with surgical kindness — slow, measured, and without complaint. I have administered them to every species of patient: the merchant pale with worry, the soldier hot with fever, the lady struck dumb by melancholy. In each case the creature feeds and the patient revives. The principle is simple. Bad blood must come out.
In this clinic, the practice is refined. Each round is its own bloodletting session. A timer is hung above the chair; while it ticks, those who come to acquire a leech may take the seat — and whoever sits when the timer strikes zero shall walk away with the collected blood. The clock resets with each new purchase, never to exceed half an hour.
The procedure is not without its bookkeeping. We keep, in this ledger, a private record of every patient who has chosen to relinquish a leech back to the apothecary. Each surrender adds one to their bleed counter — a permanent mark, in ink that does not wash. Hold a creature through a full round without surrender, and a line is struck through. Patience, in this clinic, is rewarded.
The wallet bearing the highest such mark we name marked. A grim honour. Their next surrender shall carry an additional tribute, paid not to the apothecary but directly to whoever holds the chair. Thus is balance maintained: those who flee pay those who remain.
Once in every seven sessions, the moon turns red. We call this night vampire. The marked tribute doubles. The chair becomes more valuable than I have words for. The leeches grow fat on a darker hunger, and I confess I do not understand the mechanism — only that it never fails to arrive on the seventh count.
A final note. When the timer reaches zero and the chair is occupied, anyone may strike the bell. The collected blood passes to the seated patient; the leech in the jar — full to bursting — is consigned to the fire. The supply diminishes. A new round begins on the next dose. So it goes. So it has gone. So it shall.