Chapter 17: The Obstacle of Justice
The encounter that nearly exposed Ethan happened three days later.
He was back at the same barbecue restaurant where he had taken Chloe—alone this time, grabbing a quick dinner between shifts. The place was crowded with students, the atmosphere lively and loud. Ethan sat at a corner table, nursing a beer and reviewing patient notes on his phone.
He didn't notice the girl watching him.
She was young—probably a freshman or sophomore—sitting at a nearby table with friends. Ethan had seen her glance his way a few times, but thought nothing of it. People looked at each other in restaurants. It was normal.
But this girl wasn't just looking. She was observing. Studying. And something about his behavior had triggered her suspicion.
It started when he dropped his napkin. As he bent to retrieve it, his phone—held loosely in his hand—slipped and fell, clattering to the floor beneath the table. Ethan bent lower, reaching for it, and in doing so, his gaze passed under the neighboring table.
Where the girl was sitting.
It was completely innocent. An accident. The kind of thing that happened a dozen times a day in busy restaurants. But the girl—perched on the edge of her seat, wearing a short skirt—interpreted it differently.
She saw a man with a phone, suddenly appearing beneath her table, pointing his camera in her direction.
"Pervert!" she screamed, leaping to her feet. "You disgusting creep!"
The restaurant went silent. Every head turned toward Ethan, who was still crouched on the floor, his hand frozen around his phone.
"I... I dropped my phone," he stammered, rising quickly. "It was an accident."
"Accident?" The girl's face was flushed with anger. "You were trying to take pictures up my skirt! I saw you!"
Her friends were on their feet now, surrounding him with hostile expressions. Other patrons were pulling out their own phones, recording the confrontation, preparing to play judge and jury on social media.
"I wasn't—" Ethan started, but the girl cut him off.
"I'm calling the police! You can't just—"
Panic surged through Ethan's veins. This was bad. Worse than bad. If the police got involved, if he was accused of voyeurism or harassment, his career would be over. The Stones would finally have their victory. Everything he had built would crumble.
He needed to stop this. Now.
The ghost syringe appeared in his consciousness, glowing with supernatural light. He could use it—anesthetize the girl, stop her accusations, buy himself time to escape. It would be wrong, using his power on an innocent person, violating his oath as a healer.
But the alternative was destruction.
He focused on her leg, visualizing a small dose—just enough to numb her, to stop her from following through on her threat. The ghost syringe activated, the ethereal needle finding its target.
The girl gasped, her hand flying to her thigh. "What... what was that?"
She tried to take a step, but her leg buckled beneath her. Her friends caught her, lowering her to a chair, their expressions shifting from anger to concern.
"My leg," she whispered, her face pale. "I can't feel my leg..."
"She's having some kind of episode," Ethan said, seizing the opportunity. "Someone call an ambulance. I'll stay with her—I have medical training."
The restaurant staff rushed over, the manager shouting for someone to call 911. Ethan knelt beside the girl, checking her pulse, maintaining the appearance of a concerned medical professional.
"What's happening to me?" the girl whimpered, tears streaming down her face.
"You're going to be fine," Ethan said, his voice gentle despite the guilt churning in his stomach. "Just a temporary nerve issue. It will pass."
It would pass—in about an hour, when the anesthetic wore off. By then, Ethan would be long gone, and the girl would be left with a mystery she couldn't explain.
The ambulance arrived, and Ethan handed her off to the paramedics with a smooth explanation of her symptoms. He gave them his contact information—false information, a burner email he had created for just such emergencies—and slipped out of the restaurant while their attention was elsewhere.
He walked home quickly, his heart pounding, his mind racing through the implications of what he had just done.
He had used the System's power on an innocent person. Not to heal, not to help, but to protect himself. He had violated the trust that came with his abilities, turned a tool of medicine into a weapon of self-defense.
Was this who he was becoming? Someone who would sacrifice others to save himself?
His phone buzzed—the unknown number: "That was close. And wrong. You used your power to harm an innocent."
"I had no choice," Ethan typed back, defensive. "She would have destroyed me."
"There is always a choice. You chose fear over integrity. Power over principle."
"What would you have done?"
The response was slow in coming: "I would have trusted the truth. Explained the accident. Accepted the consequences. You have allies who would have helped you through it."
"Allies? What allies?"
"Look around you, Dr. Cole. You're not as alone as you think."
The message ended, leaving Ethan alone with his guilt. He reached his apartment and locked the door, leaning against it as the adrenaline finally drained from his system.
He had made a mistake tonight. A serious one. He had allowed fear to drive him to unethical action, had compromised his principles for convenience and safety.
The path of power was indeed seductive. And he had taken another step down its dark corridor.
But it wasn't too late. He could still turn back, still recommit to his values, still be the doctor—and the man—he wanted to be.
The question was: would he?