Amadeus entered the house, being greeted upon by a sobbing old lady. "Let me see the patient." Amadeus said, seemingly without sympathy for the poor woman's tears. She pointed to a nearby room, directing him to a bed occupied by a sickly young boy. As the pale boy coughed up some bloody phlem, the woman turned to Amadeus. "Please, is there anything you can do to help?"
Silently outstretching his examination cane, Amadeus flicked back the boy's sheets, revealing a body that looked much worse for wear. He was a greenish pale color, with spots all over his body and blackened fingertips.
Reaching into his coat, Amadeus pulled out a small bottle, containing the juice of rose hips.
"All we can do for him is pray." Amadeus said as he placed the bottle on the nightstand and abruptly left the house, not looking back to see the boy or the woman's reactions.
As he stepped outside, Amadeus removed his mask, spilling out the stuffed herbs and flowers onto the ground as he basked in the moonlight, letting the cool night air embrace his persperated face. Amadeus drew in a breath of fresh air, clearing his mind.
That boy would be one more sinner erased from the world. And Amadeus was grateful for that.