The world came into the light.

  After fighting for so long—after pushing myself to the brink of colpse—I made it.

  And now that I knew this strength existed in me, I wasn’t afraid of failing again. But I was afraid of myself.

  I had reached the coast at sunset.

  Too tired to celebrate. Too tired to even think.

  I had stumbled onto the sand and colpsed.

  A couple found me ter that night. They took me to a hospital.

  I woke up the next morning.

  “Oh! You’re awake!”

  A nurse’s voice.

  I blinked up at the ceiling.

  The nurse disappeared. A few minutes ter, a nun in all white appeared at my bedside.

  “Dear, we were so worried about you! How are you feeling?”

  I nodded.

  Then looked down at Elena’s body.

  Her arms were scarred. Red, blistered skin stretched across her forearms, her cheeks ached, and her back felt like one big wound.

  She was dressed in a thin, rough cotton gown. The sleeves stopped above the elbows, leaving her burnt skin exposed to the cold air. Her tangled hair spilled over the pillow, untouched and unkempt.

  I slowly raised her arms, reaching for her face—

  "Wait! Don't touch yourself!"

  The nun's voice was sharp.

  I lowered my hands immediately.

  “You could get infected,” she warned. Then, her voice softened. “Now, dear, can you tell me your name?”

  I pointed at Elena’s throat.

  Shook my head.

  A look of mild irritation crossed her face.

  “What is it?”

  I opened my mouth—silent.

  Nothing.

  Her frown deepened. “Dear, if you don’t talk, it will be harder for us to help you.”

  The other nurse at her side sighed. “Are you unable to speak?”

  I nodded, relieved someone finally understood.

  The nurse hesitated. “…How come?”

  I lifted my hands, shrugged.

  I had nothing to write on.

  Her brow furrowed. "Wait here, dear. Let me fetch you something."

  She returned moments ter, carrying paper and a pencil. She set them on a firm wooden board and handed it over.

  “Here. Write down whatever you need to tell us.”

  I gripped the pencil.

  The page felt so much bigger than Custodio’s suffocating chalkboard.

  I hesitated. Then, I wrote:

  "I haven’t been able to talk since I was born. My name is Elena Esparza."

  The nun nodded. “Alright, Miss Elena.”

  The words hit me like a stone in the stomach.

  Miss.

  Hearing it from another human—**a stranger, a real person—**sent a strange, giddy relief through me.

  For the first time in months, someone was addressing me properly.

  I held onto that feeling like a child clutching a lucky charm.

  "You are in Asclepius’s Hospital," the nun continued. "God of medicine and healing."

  She folded her hands. "Now. We need to know who we can contact to take care of you. We took you in because you were found unconscious st night, but we have limited personnel and beds.”

  Her voice sharpened.

  "A dy shouldn’t be outside, alone, at those hours."

  My stomach dropped.

  Custodio.

  I had forgotten about him.

  He was probably searching for Elena right now.

  I couldn’t go back. But… where else could I go?

  I took the pencil and wrote:

  “I’m staying at the home of Sebastian Lysias.”

  Perfect.

  Sebastian would take me in. He owed me.

  Maybe he could even hide me.

  I’d figure out a pn ter—for now, I just needed to get away from this nun.

  The nurse beside her shifted uncomfortably. “Do you know this man, Sister Agnes?”

  The nun’s frown deepened.

  “…Yes.”

  The way she said it was so sour, I almost smiled.

  “He’s one of them.”

  The nurse’s eyes widened. “Oh. You mean—”

  “Yes.” The nun sighed. “I did not wish to make contact with that group. But if it means sending this girl away sooner…”

  She turned abruptly. “I will be back. Take care of her in the meantime.”

  "Yes, ma’am."

  As she walked away, she threw me one st look.

  “And young dy.” Her tone was icy. “I noticed you ignored my question. You will tell me what you were doing outside at those hours.”

  I smiled at her retreating back.

  That only made her scowl harder.

  “I feel incredibly tired and sore,” I wrote.

  The nurse’s eyes softened. “Your blistering is severe. How long were you out in the sun?”

  I hesitated.

  Had I… slept for more than one day?

  No.

  Custodio would’ve found me.

  But my body felt starved. Weak.

  I finally wrote:

  “I spent yesterday afternoon in the sun. It wasn’t out all day.”

  The nurse frowned. “…I see.”

  She studied me for a moment, concerned. “You should consult with a physician once you are able. That level of blistering is not normal.”

  I nodded.

  She surprised me by patting my head.

  Then, she left.

  I y back against the pillow.

  The room was dimly lit.

  Tall, narrow windows let in thin streaks of pale light. The walls—once white—were now stained, cracked, chipped with age.

  The beds lining the walls had thin, sagging mattresses, covered in rough, off-white sheets.

  The air was thick with antiseptic.

  I had been given a gss of water.

  But no food.

  By the time night fell, hunger gnawed at me. Only then did the nurse bring me a small loaf of bread, an apple, and some slices of pineapple.

  Elena’s body burned. But the room was cold.

  I welcomed the chill.

  I thought about Caruncle.

  Was he watching?

  For a moment, all I could feel was a voice.

  Faint. Exhausted. Crying somewhere in the depths of my mind.

  I sighed.

  “Yup. There you are.”

  I rolled my eyes. But I was still smiling.

  "Don't worry, buddy. I'll get you out of this. Somehow."

  I turned toward the window.

  The dark night stretched out beyond it.

  I listened to the sound of crickets singing outside.

  For the first time in a long time…

  Even hurt, even terribly weakened…

  It felt good to be alive.

  ***

  The morning arrived with the gentle press of fingers on my shoulder.

  The touch was light, careful—avoiding the blistered skin on Elena’s arms.

  Why not touch the feet though?

  “My dear? It’s time for you to go home.”

  Ugh. The nun.

  Her hoarse voice was the st thing I wanted to hear.

  I wiped the crust from Elena’s eyes and slowly opened them—

  Only to find Sebastian staring at me in absolute horror.

  “Elena! My dear! What on earth happened to you!?”

  I blinked at him.

  Too tired to reach for the paper.

  Instead, I took in his appearance.

  …Why did he look like a butler?

  “Miss Elena, can you hear me?”

  I nodded. Barely.

  Elena’s lips felt like sandpaper.

  “I think she’s still waking up.” Sebastian let out a relieved sigh, then turned to the nun and the nurse. “Truly, I must thank you both for taking such care of her.”

  He gave them a small bow.

  “I’ll take her home at once and make sure she recovers properly.”

  The nun’s gaze darkened.

  “Mister Lysias,” she said sharply. “I do not want to see a dy under your care wandering alone at night on the beach.”

  Her voice had that familiar edge.

  She had asked me the same thing yesterday. Over and over.

  She didn’t believe I couldn’t talk.

  She just kept pressing me. “You shouldn’t close yourself off to people trying to help!”

  I had stopped listening to her hours ago.

  She was an eyesore.

  “Make sure we don’t have problems like this again,” she finished.

  “Yes, ma’am. I truly apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Sebastian gave his best responsible adult nod.

  Then turned to me.

  “Are you able to walk, Miss Elena?”

  The nurse brought a wheelchair.

  I sat down slowly.

  “I’d recommend bringing the gown back when you can,” she added. “It’s hospital property.”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, indeed!”

  Sebastian took the handles.

  We finally left.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as we stepped outside.

  For a moment, I braced for the sun—

  But when I opened them, the sky was still gray.

  Clouds, once again.

  I let out a silent breath of relief.

  Sebastian helped me into the carriage.

  Then he climbed in beside me.

  “Miss Elena.” His tone had shifted.

  More serious.

  “How am I supposed to expin this to Mister Esparza?”

  Shit.

  He was going to take me back.

  I had to stop him.

  I grabbed his arm.

  Looked him dead in the eyes.

  And shook my head. Hard.

  “…What is it?”

  I kept shaking my head. Vigorously.

  To the point that I almost dizzied myself.

  “…You don’t want to go home?”

  I shook my head again.

  “But… your father. He must be worried.”

  I slowed down.

  Shook my head again. More deliberate this time.

  I held his gaze.

  “…Would you rather go to my home instead?”

  I nodded.

  Sebastian hesitated.

  Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat. “Alright.”

  He knocked on the carriage wall.

  “Driver, change of pns. We’re going home.”

  I let out a breath.

  Smiled.

  And finally rexed.

  As the carriage rolled away, I gnced out the small window.

  The hospital loomed behind us.

  Its stone walls were dark with age and soot.

  Cracks ran along its surface, like veins of neglect creeping through the structure.

  The tall, narrow windows had iron bars.

  Some were chipped, others broken.

  It looked less like a hospital and more like a prison for the dying.

  The heavy wooden doors had been worn smooth from years of desperate hands.

  Weeds crawled through the cobblestones.

  A pce that had long since stopped caring about life.

  I turned away.

  “The nurses told me you were found on the beach at night.”

  Sebastian’s voice pulled me back.

  “Did something happen between you and your father?”

  I nodded.

  But didn’t look at him.

  “And… your face. Your arms.” He hesitated. “I can’t help but feel armed.”

  I didn’t react.

  What did he expect me to do? Give him smoke signals?

  He sighed.

  “Miss Ashford told me not to pry. But I must admit, this situation is making me very worried.”

  His voice softened. “I hope you don’t think ill of me for being concerned. Your well-being is very important to me.”

  I gave him a small smile.

  Hoped that said enough.

  I turned back toward the window.

  The city streets blurred past us, worn and restless.

  Then, slowly, they gave way to fields and sky.

  We left the city.

  Ventured into the countryside.

  I stared at the open fields.

  At the trees swaying in the distant hills.

  It had been so long since I had seen the world outside.

  The only time I had left the manor was when Lucia invited us.

  And even then, Custodio never let me step out of the carriage.

  I should have been panicking.

  Custodio was still out there.

  Searching for Elena.

  But instead, all I felt was a deep, unsettling peace.

  Like I was floating just slightly outside my own body.

  And then—there was Caruncle.

  Sad.

  Dreaming.

  His grief was so deep, it seeped into my mind.

  I could feel it even as he slept.

  I couldn’t turn it off.

  So I did the next best thing.

  I ignored it.

  And let the carriage carry me away.

  ***

  I had fallen asleep on the way.

  Sebastian woke me gently when we arrived.

  I blinked up at him, still groggy.

  “We’re here.”

  Slowly, I cleaned the grit from Elena’s eyes and stepped out of the carriage.

  The house was rge, but not extravagant.

  Tall, narrow windows. Dark shutters. A polished brass knocker on a heavy oak door.

  It stood at the end of a neatly manicured garden, where soft mps glowed under the overcast sky.

  Waiting at the entrance was a woman.

  A bit older—maybe in her fifties. Round-cheeked, sharp-eyed. The kind of person who could tell you what you needed before you knew it yourself.

  Her hands were on her hips.

  “Young master!" Her voice was warm, but firm. "You left so suddenly, you had us all worried!”

  Then, her eyes nded on me.

  She frowned. “…And who is this dy?”

  Her gaze dropped to my face, to the burns, the scarring.

  “What happened to her?”

  Sebastian sighed. “Dolores, this is Miss Elena Esparza. She just left the hospital and asked for my help. I’ll expin the details ter.”

  Dolores stiffened.

  Her eyes flicked between me and Sebastian.

  “…Miss Elena?”

  Sebastian tensed. “Dolores—”

  “The same Miss Elena you talk about all the time?”

  “Dolores, please.”

  Dolores turned to me, beaming.

  “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

  Sebastian groaned. “Not now.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, young master, she should know how much you talk about her.”

  Sebastian looked like he wanted to melt into the ground.

  Dolores ignored him. “I’m the head maid of this house, Miss Elena, and I’ll be making sure you’re well taken care of.”

  I nodded, giving her a slight smile.

  A pause.

  She kept looking at me.

  As if waiting for something.

  The longer the silence stretched, the more awkward it became.

  “…Are you sick?”

  Sebastian rubbed his forehead. “Miss Elena is mute, Dolores.”

  “Oh! You poor thing!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Is that reted to—” She gestured vaguely at my face, my arms.

  Sebastian closed his eyes like he was in physical pain. “Dolores.”

  “What?”

  “She has been unable to speak since birth. It’s not recent.”

  “Oh.” Dolores frowned at me with concern.

  Sebastian sighed. “For now, let’s just find her a room where she can rest.”

  “Right, right. Follow me inside, dear. There’s a guest room on the second floor she might like.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “Perfect.”

  As we walked inside, Sebastian started talking.

  Like he was giving a guided tour of his own home.

  “Not many people know this, but my father passed away five years ago.”

  I gnced at him.

  That expined why the house felt both lived-in and a little… empty.

  Sebastian continued. “He was a successful merchant, and this house—everything he owned—was passed down to me. Now, I oversee his businesses from time to time, but mostly…”

  He trailed off.

  I waited.

  “…I just live.”

  He smiled. But there was something tired in it.

  The guest room was not monochrome.

  That alone was a relief.

  Custodio’s manor had been a pce of gray walls and white sheets, suffocating in its sterility.

  But here—

  The walls were warm brown. The bed sheets deep green. The ceiling was painted a rich, earthy shade.

  And the floor was covered with a soft blue carpet.

  “Maybe I should change the sheets before she sleeps,” Dolores murmured. “They’re clean, but I changed them a week ago…”

  She turned to me. “Would you mind waiting in the—”

  “Don’t worry, Dolores,” Sebastian interrupted. “Let’s let her rest for now. We can change them tomorrow.”

  Dolores sighed, shaking her head. “If you say so, young master.”

  She left.

  Sebastian closed the door behind her.

  Then, he handed me his notebook.

  “Now.” His voice was gentle. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  I hesitated.

  Then, slowly, I wrote:

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Sebastian exhaled. “Elena. If you don’t tell me, it will be harder for me to help you.”

  I felt Caruncle on the verge of tears.

  But inside me—

  There was only anger.

  I picked up the pencil again.

  “My father is a sick bastard.”

  Sebastian read the words.

  Didn’t respond.

  I didn’t look at him.

  I didn’t want to see his reaction.

  Too many emotions were bottling up inside me.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of face I’d make if I looked up.

  “If he asks for me,” I wrote, “please don’t tell him I’m here.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Understood. Let’s just focus on getting you better first.”

  His eyes flicked to my blistered arms.

  “What about your burns? What happened?”

  I exhaled.

  “I had to row the whole way from some weird isnd he took me to yesterday. The nurse said it wasn’t normal to be this sunburnt in such a short time. I need to see a physician.”

  Sebastian frowned.

  “An isnd?”

  “I don’t know its name.”

  He sighed, staring at the notebook like it was something fragile.

  “…Alright.”

  “First things first.” He straightened. “I’ll ask a physician to come tomorrow.”

  He studied me.

  “How are you feeling? Do you want to rest?”

  I nodded.

  Then added: “I’m incredibly thirsty.”

  “I’ll have one of the maids bring you water.”

  He turned to go.

  Then hesitated.

  “…I’ll also arrange for some new clothes to be made for you.”

  I smiled slightly. Nodded again.

  Despite everything, I was grateful.

  Yes, Sebastian was annoying.

  But he was reliable.

  After he left, I turned to the mirror.

  And finally saw Elena’s face.

  Bruised. Swollen. But still hers.

  I had long since forgotten what I really looked like.

  As a ghost, I could see my reflection. But it would always change, morphing with how I perceived myself.

  Elena’s face wasn’t mine.

  Not yet.

  But I could work with it.

  The exhaustion dragged at me.

  I pulled the dark green curtains closed.

  Curled up in bed.

  The gss of water hadn’t arrived yet.

  But nothing was perfect anyway.

  I closed my eyes.

  And let sleep take me.