An unfamiliar ceiling.

Azazel stared up at white tiles he’d never seen before. After a moment, he realized he was only looking up through one eye. When he reached up a hand to his face, he saw that his fingers were covered in bandages, as was the right half of his face. When his fingertips pressed the cotton cloth, he winced as stinging, wet pain made itself known.

“H-hello…” he croaked.

His mouth and throat were so dry.

Azazel sat up on the bed to see if he could spot anyone who might fetch him a cup of water. The walls were as white as the ceiling. Sketches and diagrams of human and angel anatomy decorated the walls. Just beside the door, he saw a painting of a man with silver hair and golden eyes wearing a long, white coat. The man in the painting smiled and held up his thumb. Below him were the words, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Azazel smirked at the picture, which caused his cheeks to pull on the sticky bandages attached to his face.

“Hello?” he called out, a little louder this time. “Is anyone there?”

The door creaked open, and in the doorway stood a young, pleasantly plump woman in a long-sleeved white dress with a white bonnet on her head. She smiled widely at Azazel, causing her rosy cheeks to appear like two apples under her eyes.

“Young master appears to be well,” she said in a cheerful voice. She crossed the room to the window on the wall to Azazel’s right and pulled back the curtains. Azazel winced at the sudden introduction of sunlight into his already too-white world. “As well as you can be, I suppose.” She took her seat on the left edge of his bed, picked up his hand, and held it gently in her own. Azazel felt his heart flutter and his cheeks flush at her gentle touch. “I’m Nurse Luscinia, but you can just call me Lucy if you please.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lucy,” said Azazel with a polite bow. “Where am I?”

“Night Hospital, yer majesty,” said Lucy. “Your friend Mitzvael brought you here after what happened.”

“Mitzvael?” Azazel repeated and gave her a confused look. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I think he said most people call him ‘Law,’” said Lucy with a giggle. “Such a tough guy nickname! I imagine the ladies are always chasing after him.”

Azazel chuckled. “Yeah… probably… So, he brought me here… you said ‘after what happened.’ What happened?”

Lucy’s smile faltered, but she fought to keep it alive. “What do you remember?”

“I remember breaking through a window and cutting myself to ribbons,” said Azazel, feeling stupid the moment he explained it. However, by the look on Lucy’s face, she wasn’t judging him at all. “Then I tried to…” he wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase it. If he said he tried to negotiate with a demon he’d sound like a traitor, even though that was exactly what he had done. “...tried to get a demon to surrender. She got mad and loosed her dogs on me. Then everything was black… then I woke up full of pain and someone sedated me. Now I’m here.”

Lucy clasped Azazel’s fingers in her own. “Well, your friend Law rescued you from those mean old doggies. They chewed on pretty bad before he got there, so he brought you here, to the only doctor capable of saving you after something like that; Dr. Night.”

As if saying that name aloud was part of an incantation to summon its owner, the very same man from the painting next to the door burst through the door with his arms spread wide.

“Hellooooo!” he cooed. “And how is our patient feeling this morning?”

Azazel laughed and coughed. “Still a little weak, and in some pain. Umm… Dr. Night, I presume?”

“Indeed indeed,” said the white-haired young doctor as he scooted up to Azazel’s bedside. “But enough about me, ol’ chap, let’s talk about you. Those dogs tore you up, but we managed to stop the bleeding, treat the plethora of nasty infections, and even had to… well, we had to replace some of your skin.”

“What?” Azazel yelped.

“Yes, a difficult procedure,” said Dr. Night, as calmly as one says they fixed a broken door hinge. “But we found some skin that your body wouldn’t reject. It’s almost the right tone, but when you recover you may notice that the right side of your face, both of your hands, both of your thighs, and your stomach are just…” Dr. Night made a pinching gesture with his fingers, “...ever so slightly different from your old skin. So, it will look a bit odd. Sorry we couldn’t do more.”

Azazel shook his head and stared at Dr. Night in disbelief. “You replaced my skin? I didn’t even know that was possible!”

Dr. Night laughed and clapped a hand on Azazel’s shoulder. “Well, we here at Night Hospital like to play on the edge of what’s possible and impossible all the time. I imagine that’s why your friend brought you here rather than to a more magical healer. There are certain things even magic can’t do.”

Azazel squinted at Dr. Night. “If you don’t mind me asking, doctor… where did you get the extra skin? I imagine that’s not something you pick up from the store.”

“No!” Dr. Night shivered. “Of course not, dear boy! I wouldn’t dream of buying or selling flesh. No, we use alchemy to grow it in our garden.”

Azazel felt his stomach turn. “You… grow skin in a garden?”

“Must we get involved in all these particulars?” Dr. Night asked with a giggle. “The point is, you’re alive and you still have flesh on your bones. Give it another day and you’ll feel just as good as new, I’d wager. Well, all except that right eye.”

“My right eye?” Azazel repeated and touched the bandages over that half of his face. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Well…” Dr. Nyx clasped both of his own hands together and his face looked grim. “It’s gone. Sorry. We couldn’t restore it for you.” He raised an index finger and his expression brightened again. “But! There is some good news! We can give you a glass eye that looks just like the other, or you can go around wearing an eye-patch, and everyone will think you look tough.”

Azazel slammed his fist on the side of the bed. “Damn it, doctor! I’ve lost an eye, this is no time to joke!” He rubbed his fingers on the bandages over the right half of his face again. “My eye… oh, gods, my eye!”

Nurse Lucy gently took Azazel’s fingers in her hands and drew them away from his face. “You’ll be fine. The gods gave you a spare after all.”

Azazel yanked his hand out from her grip and scooted away from her in the bed. “Stop that! Everything is not fine. I lost my eye!”

The smile fled Dr. Night’s face again and he hung his head. “I’m so sorry about your eye. Really, I am. We tried to save it, but eyes are delicate, and they’re much harder to replace than skin.” The gray-haired young doctor drew closer and rested his hand on Azazel’s shoulder. “But this is the reality now, and you’re going to have to get used to it. Your friend is outside waiting for you, and, from what I heard, your betrothed is on her way here as well. So, which shall I send you home with? An eyepatch or a glass eye.”

Azazel sighed and looked down in defeat. “I guess… the eyepatch.”