Chapter 79 — Emotional Companion
Ethan dug out the small black booklet left by the Continental Hotel. After flipping through a few pages, he found the contact number labeled "Special Cleanup Services."
He dialed. The call connected quickly.
"Rayne speaking," Ethan said.
"Ethan Rayne of the Rayne Clinic?" the voice asked calmly.
"Yes. Ethan Rayne."
"Would you like to place an order?"
"…Uh." Ethan glanced down at the scripted phrases printed in the booklet.
"Yes. I'd like to order… a single serving of dinner."
---
Less than thirty minutes after the call ended, a rhythmic knock sounded outside the clinic.
Ethan opened the door.
Under the night sky, a plain dark van sat parked by the curb.
Three men stood at the entrance—one in front, two behind.
The man in the lead was an elderly gentleman with graying hair. He wore a dark leather jacket, his demeanor calm and composed. The two behind him were dressed entirely in black, knit caps pulled low.
The old man removed his hat politely as Ethan opened the door and gave a slight nod.
"Good evening, Doctor. We're here to handle the cleanup."
His tone was courteous and professional, not a word wasted—like a technician arriving to repair a piano or refrigerator.
Ethan stepped aside and let them enter.
The men quietly carried their cases and tools inside the clinic.
The old man glanced briefly at the bloodstains and the body on the floor. There was no curiosity, no discomfort—only a calm acknowledgment.
He nodded to his assistants.
"Same procedure."
Immediately, everyone moved.
The two assistants unfolded thick plastic sheets from their bags and spread them neatly on both sides of the body.
Working together, they lifted the corpse onto the sheet with careful precision. Even the gun and the shell casings Ethan had thrown into the trash were placed on top.
Then they rolled the plastic tightly around the body—layer after layer—securing each fold firmly.
Next came plastic wrap.
From head to toe, they wound it repeatedly around the bundle until every inch was sealed.
Finally, they wrapped the entire thing in a heavy black plastic covering—the kind used for hazardous materials.
Zip ties tightened.
Locked.
The body was sealed completely.
With that done, the two men moved on to the cleanup.
One of them took specialized cleaning agents and absorbent powder from his backpack and sprinkled them over the bloodstains and bullet impacts.
Some areas Ethan had already cleaned.
But they still found every remaining trace—splatter near the corners of the walls, beneath cabinet edges, along the lower frame of the door.
They crouched down and used scraping tools to collect dried blood and residue before spraying disinfectant to finish the job.
In less than twenty minutes, the clinic floor looked as clean as the day it opened.
Ethan stood nearby watching, genuinely impressed.
He had thought he was already quite skilled at cleaning bloodstains.
Compared to these professionals—
His methods suddenly felt like kindergarten-level work.
The elderly man and his two assistants quietly completed the entire process without a single unnecessary word.
At the end, the old man placed his hat back on his head and gave Ethan a small nod.
"All finished, Doctor. You may continue with your evening."
Ethan handed him a gold coin.
The man accepted it, nodded politely again, and said, "Goodbye, Doctor."
The assistants carried the tightly wrapped body out to the van. The three of them left the clinic without a sound, gently closing the door behind them.
When the van drove away, Ethan returned inside.
It was as if nothing had ever happened.
He couldn't help sighing in admiration.
Professional work really should be left to professionals. They had handled death with astonishing order and efficiency.
---
Tonight had been a dark one.
Gunfire, injuries—and a heavy use of shadow magic.
So far, his body didn't feel any side effects. In fact, he oddly felt… pretty good.
Still, something weighed on his mind.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to head to Williamsburg Restaurant.
Strictly speaking…
He wanted to go eat cupcakes.
No, wait.
He already ate the cupcakes Max delivered every day.
So what he really wanted was—
He kind of missed Max.
---
Inside Williamsburg Restaurant, Max was currently arguing with a female customer.
"Pets aren't allowed inside the restaurant," Max said.
"It's legal for me to bring him," the customer replied. "He's my registered emotional companion."
"So… you don't have a boyfriend," Max said.
"No! I have anxiety!"
"So you don't want to eat alone."
"That's not it. I have a doctor's certificate."
"So you have internet and a printer at home."
They stared at each other for a moment.
Max finally sighed.
"If you admit it honestly, I'll let the dog stay."
The woman sighed back.
"Men are really hard to find these days."
Max grinned in triumph.
"See? That wasn't so hard. I'll get him some biscuits."
She headed into the kitchen.
Caroline leaned over the counter.
"Hey Max, how come Ethan hasn't been around lately? Are you two still good?"
Max shrugged.
"Pretty good. Last time we saw each other we almost had sex on his operating table."
"Wow," Caroline said. "So you two still meet often?"
"Actually… that was the only time," Max admitted. "But he eats every cupcake I send him."
Caroline blinked.
"So… since you started sending cupcakes… he hasn't come back to the restaurant?"
Max froze.
"Wait… is that true? I didn't even notice…"
She groaned dramatically.
"Wow. My former man loves my cupcakes more than he loves me. I don't know whether to feel proud or heartbroken."
At that exact moment—
The restaurant door opened.
Ethan walked in.
Caroline patted Max's shoulder.
"Well, now you don't have to choose. You can feel happy and happy."
Max instantly put on her signature smile.
"Hey, Doctor. Long time no see. Want a cupcake?"
"No thanks, Max."
Max looked horrified.
"What?! You don't like cupcakes anymore? Do I have to sleep with you just to keep delivering them to your clinic now?"
Ethan laughed.
"No. I already ate three today."
"I've been eating too many lately. So I set a daily limit for myself."
Max sighed in relief.
"Okay, good."
"But honestly… I like the sleeping-with-you idea."
Max rolled her eyes.
"So what do you want tonight? Burger, fries, diet soda?"
Ethan thought for a moment.
"Just fries and soda. And a pie."
"Not really in the mood for meat tonight."
---
When Max brought out the food, Caroline walked over.
"Hey Ethan, could you talk some sense into Max? She's planning to volunteer for a drug trial tomorrow."
"You mean being a human test subject before new drugs hit the market?" Ethan asked.
Max waved dismissively.
"I call it: an easy five hundred bucks plus possible fun hallucinations."
Ethan shrugged.
"I don't see the problem. Five hundred dollars is a lot. I've done it myself before."
"Though not for money. I was testing my body's tolerance."
"Really?" Caroline said. "But she can't even drink coffee today. And she definitely can't have sex because it affects hormone levels."
Ethan suddenly sat up straight.
"Five hundred dollars is a lot," he said slowly.
"But Max… do you know what they're testing?"
"Some of those compounds haven't even fully passed animal testing yet. They rush straight into human trials."
"I read about a girl who tested a new painkiller for eight hundred dollars."
"She ended up in ICU with kidney failure."
"The money she earned couldn't even pay for a single day of dialysis."
He looked directly at Max.
"Your body isn't a testing field. Don't sell it cheaply to businessmen in lab coats."
Max squinted at him.
"If you hadn't just said it was 'no problem' earlier, I might've believed you."
"I said it's fine for me," Ethan said.
"My body has strong resistance. You—"
"Stop," Max interrupted.
"I'll just assume you were complimenting my figure."
Seeing he couldn't persuade her, Ethan returned to eating his dinner in frustration.
A short while later, a man in a suit walked into the restaurant.
A lawyer.
He informed Caroline that the prosecutor required her to attend a deposition regarding her father's case.
His hourly fee was $1100.
Caroline looked like she might faint.
Max nudged Ethan.
"Doctor, does your clinic have a lawyer? Preferably one who gives discounts?"
"No lawyer," Ethan replied.
"What? No lawyer? Then what happens if you kill someone during treatment?"
"I wouldn't kill someone during treatment," Ethan said calmly.
"I'd only kill them personally."
Max burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! Oh my God! You totally belong in this restaurant!"
Meanwhile, Caroline was still pleading.
"Mr. Hutchinson, I really need your help. This case should be easy for you."
"Please don't make me kneel. The floor is filthy—and my skirt is way too short."
Max couldn't stand watching anymore and dragged Caroline into the kitchen.
"Relax," Max whispered. "I know a way to make five hundred in one night."
Oleg immediately spoke up.
"I asked her that the day she started working here."
Caroline ignored him.
"I'm not becoming a drug-test guinea pig."
"Fine," Max said. "Then we ask the doctor over there if he'll pay a thousand dollars for us to spend the night with him."
"I'll pay a thousand," Oleg said instantly.
Caroline sighed.
"Fine. Go ask him."
Max immediately chickened out.
"I was joking…"
Caroline sighed again.
"Even if I do the drug trial, it still won't be enough money."
Max lowered her voice.
"It won't be enough… but I can give you my five hundred. And we can take another hundred from the shop fund."
Caroline stared at her.
"You'd really do that for me?"
"I always thought we'd eventually use that fund to solve one of our legal problems. I just assumed it would be for you."
Max nodded.
"Yeah… I thought so too."
---
Later that night, after the restaurant closed, Max finished cleaning up.
She noticed Ethan still sitting there in a daze.
She tapped him on the shoulder.
"Doctor. Want to come home with me?"
Ethan looked at her.
"You're still doing the drug trial tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"And you're asking me this now—"
"So are you coming home with me or not?!"
Ethan stared at her for a few seconds.
"You sure?"
"Last chance," Max said impatiently. "Yes or no?"
"YES! GO GO GO!"
Max grabbed his coat and tossed it at him.
"Hurry up—before I change my mind."