Chapter 800

　　It wasn't until the bamboo flute's melody faded completely that Misha collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 　　She felt as though she'd lost half her life force, every ounce of strength drained from her body. 　　Initially planning to leave the next day, Misha fell ill that very night. 　　Delirious and raving, she was swallowed by confusion. 　　Back at their quarters, Rolf returned with a face flushed with excitement, eager to recount yesterday's events to Alvin in vivid detail. 　　Gesturing wildly, he said, "You should've seen it—spectacular! Those snakes came pouring in from every direction, like something out of a horror movie. It gave me the creeps just watching." 　　Alvin listened, his brow furrowing with each passing word. 　　Recalling Alma's parting words— "See that you behave" —a nagging sense of unease settled in his stomach. Misha's illness felt anything but coincidental. 　　"What're you thinking?" Rolf asked, noticing Alvin's distraction. 　　"Did Dr. Vane