Christian Lin sat in the dim glow of the living room of his private jet, his mind racing as the plane descended toward its destination.
He looked out the window at the lights of the city below, a stark contrast to the darkness that often enveloped his thoughts. At seventeen, he had already seen more of the world than most people could dream of, but his journeys were far from glamorous.
Christian's blood had the power to heal, a gift that had transformed his life into a whirlwind of responsibility and fame. It all started when he was twelve, when a simple act of kindness–donating his blood to help his friend Benny who had been injured in a freak accident–revealed his extraordinary ability. Word spread quickly through the medical community and then the general public, and Christian was thrust into the global spotlight.
To the world, he was Christian Saint, the Blood Savior.
His parents had initially tried to protect him. But as the demand for his gift grew, it became impossible to shield him from the world. They eventually decided to support his mission, hoping to manage the chaos that came with it. They hired lawyers, accountants, publicists, and a medical staff, as well as the private jet to transport him all over the world.
Now of age, Christian traveled from country to country without his parents, healing the sick and terminally ill, always under the watchful eyes of his head of security, Mauga–a massive Samoan and former amateur wrestler–and a team of security and medical professionals.
Sometimes friends were allowed to join him. And recently, his girlfriend Eliana sometimes joined him when she wasn’t in school. But on work days like this, called ‘blood days’, when he was alone, the weight of his job and responsibility weighed heavy on him.
The plane landed smoothly, and as Christian disembarked, he was met by a crowd of eager faces, looking to get a glimpse of him. Reporters, fans, and desperate families all pressed forward, hoping for a chance to see the young man whose blood could perform miracles.
When he was younger, Christian enjoyed the fame and attention. It was like he was a rock star. But as he got older, the magic wore off. He still dressed like a rock star, as it was on brand, but he didn’t feel like one much anymore.
He forced a smile, waving briefly in the direction of the mob before being ushered into the waiting Escalade.
Tonight, he was in Mexico City, where a young girl named Isabella was fighting a rare and aggressive illness. Her parents had reached out through one of the many charities that helped coordinate Christian's charity visits, and her story had touched his heart.
As the vehicle navigated through the streets of Palanco, Christian thought about the countless people he had helped, and the countless more he couldn't.
He had become numb to the feeling of the needles years ago when he was around fourteen. It took a few more years to become numb to the holos and streams though, especially the streams from kids.
They all began by telling Christian their name and where they were from. They would tell him the name of their specific blood disease–fibrinogenolysis, leukocytosis, macroglobulinemia–complicated words that no kid should ever need to know. Some of them would be in hospital beds, looking gaunt and frail, making occasional eye contact with parents, relatives or friends just offscreen.
But all of them, no matter how healthy or unhealthy they looked, would end up, without fail, crying and pleading with him to save their life.
The numbness set in slowly, after months and years of letting these people into his mind, into his heart. He could only cry and break down so many times before he realized that he couldn’t be everyone’s savior. That they weren’t all his responsibility. That he only had so much to give, and that he had to have limits and set boundaries if he didn’t want every drop of his blood, his emotions, his soul drained from his body.
At the point he had started to get angry and resent anyone who wanted his blood, he stopped watching the videos. Stopped getting attached. Stopped caring about strangers.
Now that he was seventeen and a billionaire, at least on paper, the only things he really cared about were flying to wherever he needed to be on blood days, finishing up his homeschooling coursework in order to graduate high school–a promise he made his Mom–and hanging with his friends and Eliana back home in New York.
When they arrived at the hospital, Christian and his entourage were guided to Isabella's room. The air was thick with hope and fear. Isabella lay in a hospital bed, her frail body connected to various machines. Her parents stood nearby, their eyes red from countless sleepless nights.
Christian approached the bed, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He knew the procedure well. A few drops of his blood withdrawn from his arm, then mixed into a saline solution, and then administered through an IV. It always amazed him how something so simple could have such profound and life-altering effects, for both the patient and their loved ones.
As the staff around them worked, he spoke softly to Isabella, telling her stories of the places he had visited, the people he had met. He saw her eyes light up, and he felt a flicker of hope ignite in her parents.
Once the solution was prepared, a nurse administered it while Christian held Isabella's hand.
The room was silent, everyone holding their breath as they waited. Slowly, during the next ten to fifteen minutes, Isabella's color improved, her breathing steadied, and a smile spread across her face. Tears of joy and relief flowed freely from her parents, and Christian felt a familiar mix of pride and sorrow.
“Muchas gracias,” Isabella’s mother said through tears. “Eres nuestro Salvador.”
“Thank you,” her father followed, barely able to speak. “Isabella is our world, and you have saved our world tonight.”
After ensuring Isabella was stable, Christian graciously slipped out of the room, needing a moment to himself. He found a small, unoccupied waiting room and sat down, resting his head in his hands.
The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him. For being so loved and adored by so many, he sometimes felt so brutally alone. And the failed kidnap attempt last year was always on the back of his mind. He knew Mauga and his team would always do everything they could to keep him safe. But he also knew that as long as his blood had the power to save lives, that he would always be a target for those who would try to acquire that power, by any means necessary.
Mauga found him in the waiting room, sat beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was something he had done more often in the last year or so.
"You're doing good work, Christian. Remember that," Mauga said.
"I know," he whispered, "but sometimes it feels like too much. There are so many people, and I can't help them all. And I feel like my own life isn’t mine anymore. The more life I give to others, the less there is for me. I don’t mean to sound selfish, it's just hard."
"Yeah, I know,” Mauga replied. “But you have a gift that no one else has. You have to use it. But you also have to take care of yourself. You’ll find a balance, in time. For now, just take it one day at a time."
“When did you get so smart?” Christian replied, a huge grin on his face, and they laughed.
Christian nodded, drawing strength from Mauga’s words. He knew his journey was far from over, and that things would change as he got older. But he also knew he wasn't alone. With his family's and Eliana’s support, he would continue to travel the world, healing those he could and bearing the weight of his gift with as much grace as he could muster.
Christian checked in on Isabella once more, left the hospital, and headed back to the CDMX airport. Before he knew it, he was on his plane back to New York. Exhausted, he ate half his hamburger, sent a holo to Eliana, and then dozed off to some vibes, alone in his bedroom suite.
The world was vast and full of suffering. But for now, he would continue to do his part to bring a little light to the darkness.
And for now, that was enough.
