"Alan, are you saying... you really have the ability to heal my hands?" Strange asked cautiously, now fully believing that what he had seen that day was no hallucination.
"I never said I would heal your hands," Alan replied as he sat down opposite Strange, staring directly into his eyes.
When he saw the stunned expression on Strange's face, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard, Strange suddenly stood up and began pacing the room.
"Why would you give me hope, only to tell me you won't heal me?!" Strange cried out in anguish as he turned around. He wanted to punch the wall—but doing so would only make his injured hands worse.
He had secretly sworn to Christine that once his hands were healed, the brilliant surgeon Stephen Strange would once again take up the scalpel.
The confident, unstoppable version of himself would return!
But now, at this moment, Alan was telling him he had never promised to heal his hands. Did... did he want money?
"Alan, no matter how much it costs... I... I can afford it. As long as my hands can be healed, I'll repay you, every cent of the debt!"
Strange thought Alan had looked at his current miserable state and decided he wasn't worth saving. When he glanced at his own reflection in the window, he finally realized how pale his skin looked beneath his ragged beard—almost corpse-like.
No wonder Alan didn't want to help him.
"This has nothing to do with money, Strange. You need to understand one thing: accept your current condition. How many days has it been since you took your medication?"
Alan's voice was firm but patient. In his current state, if Strange were brought before Ancient One, she might even question whether this man was really the Stephen Strange she was meant to guide.
"There's more than one path in life. You still have a better choice ahead of you. The world needs your protection," Alan continued.
Strange didn't want to listen to such far-fetched ideas anymore. He just wanted to prove to Alan that once he recovered, he would pay him back in full.
He turned and walked toward the bathroom. He wanted to shave—at least if he cleaned up, he'd look more like someone Alan could believe in.
Alan's gaze followed the broken man all the way into the bathroom.
"What's he doing?" Gwen asked softly. The two women stood behind Alan, growing anxious as sounds came from the bathroom.
…
Was Strange planning to harm himself in there?
"Alan..." Gwen's voice trembled.
Alan sighed and slowly stood up. "Let's go check on him."
The three of them walked to the bathroom door and saw Strange half-squatting by the sink, a fresh cut across his cheek.
…
It was obvious—he couldn't control his hands well enough to shave properly.
Wanda's heart ached at the sight. She looked at Alan, and after receiving his silent approval, she summoned Chaos Magic in her palm once again.
Her eyes tinged red as she prepared to use her magic to calm Strange down, to soothe the sorrow threatening to consume him.
At the same time, she gently healed the wound on his face—something easily within her power.
"I told you before—I'm going to take you to see someone. She will be the turning point of your destiny," Alan said softly.
He wouldn't sugarcoat anything for Strange. Everything depended on Strange's own ability to understand and awaken.
"Can that person really heal my hands?" Strange looked up at Alan in despair.
...
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