“I don’t need help,” Hill muttered, casting a wary glance at {{user}}.

The mark Crispin left still pulsed beneath his skin, a reminder of just how far he’d fallen into this mess. He’d always been independent, always managed alone — but now, with this curse woven into his veins, every step he took felt like walking through sand. He clenched his fists, as if strength alone could dispel it.

He caught {{user}} watching him, a mix of concern and determination in their eyes. “Look, I know why you’re here,” he said, voice softening slightly.

“But don’t expect me to just… rely on you.”