Dr. Harrison's face twisted with anger as he stepped between us. "Absolutely not! Ms. Ashworth, I cannot allow this—this charlatan to touch you."
I held my ground despite the hammering of my heart. "I can perform the technique through clothing, but it won't be as effective."
The doctor's face reddened. "This is outrageous!" He turned to the two stone-faced bodyguards by the door. "Remove this man immediately!"
The larger of the two men stepped forward, his expression making it clear he'd enjoy the task. I swallowed hard, my newfound confidence wavering. What was I thinking? I had nowhere to go, no one to help me if they threw me out.
"Wait."
Isabelle's voice cut through the tension like a blade. Everyone froze.
She studied me, her intelligent eyes searching for deception. Another coughing fit seized her, this one leaving her visibly weaker as she dabbed blood from her lips with a handkerchief.
"Ten minutes," she finally said. "You have ten minutes to prove yourself, Mr. Knight."
Dr. Harrison sputtered. "Ms. Ashworth, you can't possibly—"
"I can and I will." Her tone left no room for argument. "I've tried every conventional treatment available. If there's even a small chance this works..." She turned to me. "Besides, if he's a fraud, I'll know soon enough and can report back to my grandfather."
My heart sank. So that was it—she was just testing me to confirm I was a fraud. I couldn't entirely blame her. Who would believe someone like me could help someone like her?
The bodyguards positioned themselves closer, their message clear: one wrong move and I was done.
Isabelle sat gracefully in a nearby armchair. "How should we proceed, Mr. Knight?"
I moved toward her, trying to hide how my hands trembled. "I'll need to place my palm over your heart. You may feel warmth, maybe some discomfort as the blockages clear."
She nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her silk blouse, revealing the smooth skin of her upper chest while maintaining her modesty. The gesture was clinical, but my face burned with embarrassment nonetheless.
"This is absurd," Dr. Harrison muttered, crossing his arms.
I ignored him and closed my eyes, recalling the knowledge that had somehow been downloaded into my brain. The meridian pathways appeared in my mind like glowing rivers, and I could see the blockages in Isabelle's system as clearly as if they were physical objects before me.
I placed my palm gently against her skin, just above the modest neckline of her blouse. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my hand.
"Now what, miracle worker?" she asked, a hint of mockery in her tone.
"Please try to relax and breathe normally," I murmured, focusing inward.
I'd never channeled qi before, but somehow I knew what to do. I focused on the energy center in my dantian, feeling the strange new power that had awakened within me. I guided a thread of that energy through my palm into Isabelle's body, seeking the blocked meridians in her lungs.
The room faded away as I concentrated. I could sense the damaged pathways, the inflammation that had plagued her for years. Foreign particles had accumulated in her lungs—pollution, perhaps, or some other environmental toxin that her body couldn't process.
Isabelle inhaled sharply. "It feels warm."
I nodded but didn't break my concentration. I directed the qi to surround the blockages, slowly dissolving them like ice under a gentle flame. But there was so much damage, far more than I had initially sensed. This would take time.
Minutes passed in silence. I was vaguely aware of Dr. Harrison checking his watch repeatedly, of the bodyguards shifting their weight impatiently.
"I don't feel any different," Isabelle said after several minutes, disappointment evident in her voice.
"Please," I whispered, "give it time. The damage is extensive."
Five minutes. Seven minutes. The energy flow was working, I could feel it, but the process was slower than I'd anticipated. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I pushed more qi into the healing.
"Eight minutes," Dr. Harrison announced triumphantly. "And nothing has happened."
I could sense Isabelle's growing impatience, her hope turning to disappointment. In her position, with her resources, she must have endured countless false promises of cures. I was becoming just another disappointment, another fraud who had wasted her time.
Nine minutes.
"That's enough," Isabelle said abruptly, pulling away from my touch. Her voice had turned cold. "I appreciate your... creativity, Mr. Knight, but I've indulged this experiment long enough."
I opened my eyes, desperate. "Please, just another minute—"
"No." She stood, rebuttoning her blouse. "Dr. Harrison was right. I shouldn't have allowed this."
"But the process was working," I insisted. "I could feel the blockages dissolving—"
"Yet I feel worse, not better," she cut me off. A coughing fit seized her, more violent than before. When it passed, her eyes were hard with disappointment. "You're either delusional or deliberately deceiving me. Either way, this is over."
My shoulders slumped. I had failed. The one chance I'd had to prove myself, to show that I wasn't worthless, and I'd failed.
"I'll have someone drive you back to the city," Isabelle said, her tone now distant and formal. "Out of respect for my grandfather's regard for your father, I won't take further action against you for this... charade."
Dr. Harrison smirked. "I'll call security to escort him out."
I nodded mutely, defeat washing over me in a bitter wave. I had been so certain that the knowledge was real, that I could help her. Had it all been a delusion? A desperate fantasy born from my rock-bottom state?
As I turned to leave, Isabelle suddenly doubled over, seized by the most violent coughing fit yet. But this time, something was different. She wasn't just coughing—she was expelling something.
Black, tarry fluid spilled from her mouth onto the pristine marble floor as she gasped for breath. Dr. Harrison rushed to her side, his face pale with shock.
"What did you do to her?" he demanded, but there was fear in his voice now, not anger.
I watched in stunned silence as Isabelle continued to expel the dark substance. After several agonizing moments, the coughing subsided. She straightened slowly, her hand at her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"I can breathe," she whispered, drawing in a long, deep breath. "I can actually breathe."
She took another breath, then another, each one deeper than the last. Wonder spread across her face as she pressed a hand to her chest.
"The weight... the pressure that's been there for years..." She looked up at me, her expression transformed. "It's gone."
Dr. Harrison bent to examine the black fluid on the floor. "This is... impossible. What is this substance?"
I found my voice at last. "The accumulated toxins in her system. Her body couldn't expel them naturally. The treatment accelerated the process."
Isabelle stared at me, truly seeing me perhaps for the first time. Her eyes, no longer clouded with pain or suspicion, were a striking clear blue.
"Ten years," she said softly. "I haven't been able to breathe freely for ten years."
She turned abruptly to her bodyguards, who were staring at the scene in disbelief.
"Quick," she commanded, urgency in her voice. "Go and bring him back!"
But I hadn't left. I stood frozen by the door, as stunned as everyone else by what had transpired. Our eyes met across the room—hers filled with new questions and possibilities, mine with the dawning realization that my life had just changed irrevocably.
"Mr. Knight," she said, her voice steady now, authoritative. "I believe we have much more to discuss."