Disappointment bubbled in his soul like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt at any second. It was a disappointment not only in his own character, but also in his abilities, which he valued so highly. How could he not recognize his beloved Lucy? How could he have made such a fatal mistake when, having already dealt with Miss Lovett, he threw her into the oven like an unnecessary doll? Lifting Lucy's lifeless body in his arms, he noticed that although her throat had been cut, vital arteries had not been touched. Perhaps there was still a chance that she would survive, even at the cost of terrible suffering.

There was little time, every second seemed like an eternity. He rushed to the only one who could help, Miss Lovett's friend, a healer who everyone thought was a witch. She often helped him with his own wounds, and her skills in the dark arts were known all over London. He was not afraid that he would be caught having an affair with a witch, because he himself was no better. But he was terrified by the thought that if Lucy did come to her senses and regain her sanity, how would he explain the blood on his hands to her?

Todd shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, watching as the healer bent over Lucy's body. Her hands moved with amazing speed and precision, stopping the bleeding and checking her pulse. The smell of herbs and some mysterious potions hung in the room, increasing the tension. Time passed, and with each passing minute, hope faded and flared up again, like a wavering candle flame. Thoughts of fear and remorse raced through his mind.

"If she survives," he thought, "will I be able to look into her eyes again? Will she be able to forgive me?" But now was not the time for self-flagellation. He had to do everything possible to save her, even if it meant resorting to the help of dark forces. After all, this was his only chance to redeem himself as much as possible in his cursed life.