He woke up to a ceiling that felt too low, pressing down like an invisible weight. Light trickled in through a narrow ventilation hole, weak and hesitant, barely cutting through the murk. Dust swirled in slow, aimless spirals, caught between movement and stillness. The air was hollow, cold, not just in temperature but in something deeper, something missing.

  His emerald eyes followed the fractured shadows on the floor, thin bars shifting whenever the wind whispered through the vents. The room breathed with an emptiness that settled under his skin, seeping into his bones. His brown hair caught the faint light as he shifted, strands flickering gold before sinking back into the dimness. The silence pressed against his ears, thick and unyielding.

  The floor beneath him was tiled red and black, like a chessboard left to decay. The cracks ran deep, jagged, as if something had tried to break free from beneath. There was an imbalance in the arrangement, so subtle it almost went unnoticed, yet enough to make his footing feel... uncertain. He moved toward a corner, drawn by what seemed like an opening in the wall, a gap leading elsewhere. But as he approached, it was just that, a wall, smooth and blank, swallowing the illusion whole.

  In the center of the room stood a wooden chair. His fingers brushed its surface, expecting the roughness of aged wood, but finding only something lifeless. He pressed against it. It did not move. Rootless, yet immovable. Across from it, a mirror hung, cracked but intact enough to reflect.

  And in that reflection, he was not alone.

  Two figures stood where there should have been only him. Not ghosts, but fragments. Pieces of a self he thought long buried.

  The one in the front was poised, arms crossed, brown hair falling perfectly into place. A thin smile curved his lips, too perfect, too knowing. Emerald eyes gleamed with the weight of certainty.

  Alexsir Vasseur.

  The prodigy. The one who had all the answers. The one who was supposed to be perfect human.

  "You remember, don’t you?" Alexsir’s voice was soft, but it cut like a scalpel. "I accepted my fate. Knew what I had to do. Learned faster, understood deeper. People depended on me, because I was the center. I had to know. I had to fix. I had to be."

  His smile faded, his head tilting ever so slightly. "And a perfect human... can’t have weaknesses. Can’t cry. Can’t let others see him break. So I held it all in. I made sure nothing, nothing, could disturb anyone. Not even my own pain."

  A pause. A shift in the air.

  "Then Nana disappeared. Then Mom left too. And I…." His voice cracked, barely. He inhaled sharply. "I, who should have known everything, who should have seen it coming... didn’t. I couldn't stop it. I couldn’t do anything."

  The weight of it pressed down, thick like the air before a storm. Then his gaze sharpened, a blade behind his eyes.

  "And everything I suppressed exploded. Years of it. Like a dam breaking. I was angry. I was afraid. I lost everything at once."

  His voice softened, as if reviving a memory that had long since lost its warmth. "Live," he murmured. "Because being alive is the best part of life. Cherish life, my son."

  The words burrowed into his chest, clawing at something raw. But before he could grasp them, before they could settle, the second figure, his other shadow, laughed bitterly.

  Messy hair. Dimmed emerald eyes. A smirk that carried the weight of realization.

  Sir Alex.

  "I was born," he said, stepping forward, his voice laced with quiet exhaustion. "When you finally understood that being a perfect human doesn’t mean solving everything. Doesn’t mean being everything."

  He tilted his head, gaze searching. "To be perfect human... is to be human, but tenfold. To feel pain more deeply. To love harder. To lose more completely." His lips curled, something between amusement and sadness. "I stopped trying to be the center. I just wanted to live. To carry out Mom’s wish."

  A short, humorless laugh. "But you hated me for that, didn’t you? You thought I was hiding. That I was running away."

  The silence between them thickened.

  Sir Alex took another step, voice barely above a whisper. "And so you killed us both."

  Alexsir Vasseur exhaled, almost a sigh. "You drowned me in the deep sea. Let me vanish into the abyss where no light could reach."

  "You abandoned me on the shore," Sir Alex added. "Left me to rot among the crashing waves."

  The walls felt closer now. The air thinner. The cold more biting.

  "And now, here you are." Alexsir’s gaze bore into him. "Staring at us. At the name Nana gave you. The name you wore as a symbol, as pride. The name of a hero."

  Sir Alex smirked, tilting his head. "But you used that name to kill us."

  Their laughter was quiet at first. Then it grew, echoing through the small room, slipping into the cracks in the walls, the cracks in his mind.

  The voices burrowed deep, coiling around his bones.

  "You have destroyed yourself, HELKI!"

  His breath hitched. His hands trembled. His vision blurred.

  No.

  This was wrong. They shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t exist anymore.

  But they did.

  And they kept speaking.

  They kept blaming him.

  Then…

  A crack. A shatter. A thousand shards of reality collapsing inward.

  The world fragmented, it’s exploded…

  Helki jolted awake, gasping.

  His emerald eyes darted, unfocused, searching. The wooden ceiling above him swayed in his vision, bathed in Trappist light. Cold sweat trickled down his face, dampening the pillow beneath him. His chest heaved, breath coming in ragged bursts, body frozen in the tight grip of something unseen.

  The remnants of the dream clung to him like phantom hands, refusing to let go.

  Seconds stretched. His mind reeled, trying to piece itself back together. And then...

  "Damn it!" His voice cracked the silence, frustration spilling over. "Can’t I just once not be woken up by a nightmare?"

  He dragged a shaky arm over his face, pressing it against his eyes. But the darkness behind his lids held no comfort.

  Only echoes.

  Helki’s consciousness stirred, but not completely.

  A dull heaviness pressed against his skull, anchoring him somewhere between waking and dreaming. His breath came slow, measured. The weight of exhaustion still clung to his limbs, but something in his body told him he was no longer in the depths of unconsciousness.

  He moved his hand first, pulling it away from his face with sluggish effort. His fingers felt stiff, his skin cold against his own touch. The world around him remained blurry for a moment, but he forced himself to look, forced himself to orient.

  To his left, a wide window stretched across a wooden wall, its panes divided into small symmetrical sections. The pale Trappist light filtered through, broken into fragments by the wooden lattice, each glass box reflecting a slightly different shade of light. The soft gradients fell across the floor like ghostly footprints, shifting ever so slightly as the light crept forward.

  Helki turned his head. A metal IV pole stood beside him, its elongated shadow reaching across the floor. From its end, a transparent bag hung still, the clear liquid within trembling faintly with each slow drip. The clamp regulated the flow, drop by drop, sending the fluid through a thin tube that coiled in a quiet path before vanishing beneath the bandages wrapped around his wrist.

  DEXTROSE MONOHYDRATE 5%.

  His vision lingered on the label, his mind sluggishly piecing together its significance. Hydration. Glucose. The kind of thing a body needed when it had been running on fumes for too long.

  Helki swallowed, but his throat felt dry, his tongue rough with an unpleasant coating that refused to fade. He took a slow inhale, filling his lungs with air thick with antiseptic, a scent that clung to places where the human body was more often fragile than whole.

  He forced his gaze further. To his right, a row of beds stood empty, their sheets neatly tucked, their pillows untouched. Thin curtains hung limply between them, rolled to the side, unbothered by the need for privacy. This place was quiet. Too quiet.

  His stomach didn’t even bother to remind him of hunger anymore. It had long since moved past the stage of demanding sustenance, settling instead into the dull void of neglect.

  How long has it been?

  The memory of his last bite was vague, an echo from the night before he had stepped into that warehouse. Before a simple transaction had spiraled into something far messier than he had anticipated.

  A pressure built behind Helki’s forehead, his mind crammed with fragmented recollections, each colliding against the other like restless specters. He was still sorting through them when a voice, faint, distant, broke through the static.

  “…ar…yu…o…kay…”

  It was muffled, distorted, slipping between the sharp ringing in his ears. The syllables blurred together, weightless and meaningless, until they weren’t.

  "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

  His awareness snapped back into place.

  Helki’s body tensed, his breath catching for a split second as reality solidified around him. The room felt more real. More present. And for the first time, he truly noticed the figure standing near him.

  A woman.

  Shoulder-length brown hair. A medical coat.

  Her posture wasn’t rigid, but there was a quiet attentiveness in her stance, as if she had been watching him for some time.

  Reflex took over before reason. Helki moved, pushing himself upright, but the shift sent a sharp wave of dizziness crashing through his skull. His hands clenched the bedsheets, anchoring himself against the vertigo.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "How long have I been here?" His voice came out hoarse, rough with disuse.

  The woman didn’t answer immediately. She glanced at the monitor beside him, her expression unreadable as she confirmed something on the screen.

  "Nine hours."

  Nine.

  Helki’s jaw tightened, his breath slow and measured. Nine hours unconscious. Too long. Far too long. Too many things could have happened in that span of time.

  His gaze snapped back to her, sharper now. “Who are you?”

  She didn’t flinch. If anything, she exhaled softly, as if she had expected the question. Then, with a brief hesitation, she extended her hand.

  “Emily,” she said, her voice steady. “Emily Carter. I’m a medical assistant here.”

  Helki didn’t take the offered hand. He simply stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked back to her face.

  The name didn’t stir any recognition. Not someone he knew.

  Eventually, he let his shoulders settle, marginally, but the wariness in his body didn’t fade.

  “Where exactly is ‘here’?”

  Emily lowered her hand, but the lack of response didn’t seem to bother her. If anything, she kept the faintest trace of a smile, as if she had already anticipated his guarded nature.

  "Cartridge medical room," she answered. "You were brought here after you passed out in Sis Fani's room."

  Fani.

  That single name was enough to pull memories to the surface. Blurred images, voices, the sensation of his body shutting down mid-sentence. His fingers twitched, tension creeping into his jaw.

  Emily observed him carefully before speaking again.

  "Do you remember anything before you passed out?"

  Helki didn’t answer right away. He turned his attention to the IV drip still feeding into his veins, watching the slow, rhythmic drops.

  "Enough," he finally said. Nothing more.

  Emily studied him for a moment before giving a small nod. She didn’t press.

  Instead, she shifted the conversation. "Then, you can start by telling me your name."

  Helki turned his head again, his emerald gaze locking onto hers, sharp despite the lingering exhaustion weighing down his body.

  "Helki."

  For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Emily’s expression. Not surprise. More like mild amusement. As if that answer had been expected, too.

  She slid a clipboard off the small table beside the bed, flipping through the medical records with practiced ease. Her eyes flickered between the pages and the monitor beside him, skimming the steady readouts.

  "I'll check you further," she said, her tone professional yet gentle. "Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?"

  Helki shook his head slowly. The fatigue was still there, lingering like an old wound, but it was manageable. Emily seemed to watch him for a second longer before jotting something down.

  Without warning, she raised her hand. "Follow my finger."

  Helki’s gaze remained wary, but he complied, tracking her finger as it moved left, right, up, down. Emily murmured something under her breath, either to herself or simply out of habit. Then, she placed two fingers against his wrist, counting his pulse.

  After a few seconds, she lowered her hand.

  "Press my palm."

  Helki followed the instruction, feeling the residual tension in his muscles. Emily noted something in her mind before shifting her focus to the IV. She checked the bag, the clamp, the flow of the drip, making sure everything was in order.

  Then, finally, she exhaled.

  "You're fine," she said. "But your body’s completely drained. No wonder you blacked out."

  Her gaze flickered toward him, this time with a quiet insistence.

  "You need to eat. Now."

  Helki didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared ahead, unbothered. Maybe because hunger had long stopped feeling urgent.

  Emily seemed to read his thoughts.

  "I don’t care how long you think you can go without food," she said flatly. "You’ve been out for nine hours with nothing in your system. I’m not letting you pass out again."

  Helki exhaled quietly, not arguing.

  Emily set the clipboard down, adjusted the sleeves of her coat, and turned toward the door.

  "I’ll get something from the dining room. Don’t go anywhere."

  Without waiting for a reply, she stepped out, leaving behind only the quiet hum of medical monitors and the rhythmic ticking of a distant clock.

  The aroma of boiling broth mixed with the scent of herbs wafted through the air. The metallic scraping of a large pot being stirred filled the room, mixed with the hum of chatter from the Catridge members taking a break from their duties.

  Emily stepped inside, removing her medical gloves and slipping them into her coat pocket. Her eyes immediately caught Susan standing behind the food counter, the middle-aged woman’s arms still busy arranging plates of warm soup.

  “Mrs. Susan, I need some food for a patient,” Emily said as she leaned lightly on the wooden table that was starting to glisten with the steam from the dishes.

  Susan raised her eyebrows. “Which patient? Almost everyone here is my patient too.”

  Emily chuckled softly. “The one who just woke up. He hasn’t eaten anything in nine hours, but considering when he arrived here maybe more or less three days.”

  Susan took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, he needs something easy to digest. I'll prepare protein soup and some Lettus sprouts. Wait a moment."

  Emily nodded as she glanced at the Catridge members enjoying their dinner. The atmosphere was much more relaxed compared to the medical wing which was always filled with tension.

  That's when she saw Anastasha and Tifa enter through the side door. Anastasha's long hair, loosely braided, was still slightly damp, probably from the dew in the swamp. While Tifa, who was shorter than her, patted her dusty jacket with an annoyed expression.

  "Seriously, I'm not going back there anytime soon," Tifa grumbled, throwing a brown leaf to the floor.

  Anastasha giggled as she tossed a bunch of Lettus fibers onto a nearby table. "At least we've got enough supplies. Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to join Anais' group, right?"

  Tifa snorted as she picked up the tray and began to pick at her food. That's when Anastasha noticed Emily and immediately approached her.

  "Hey, Emi!" she called out with a wide smile. "How's work going in the medical room?"

  Emily nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Everything's going well and fine, I guess."

  Anastasha chuckled before leaning forward a little, her voice softer but more enthusiastic.

  "By the way... You met Helki, right?"

  Emily didn't answer right away. She knew who Anastasha was referring to, not just a guess, but a certainty. The girl had been asking this for a while now, and the expression on her face now was one of hope that was hard to hide.

  Emily suppressed the urge to sigh. As a medical assistant, her priority was her patients, not other people's personal affairs. Helki still needed to rest, and letting him deal with someone as feisty as Anastasha in her current state wasn't a good idea.

  So, she tilted her head slightly and said casually, "I haven't had a chance to meet everyone today. If he's around, maybe you could try tomorrow?"

  Anastasha's face relaxed a little, but she nodded anyway.

  "Tomorrow, huh? Okay..." she muttered, then smiled again, though a little weaker than before. "Then, I'll look for him later."

  Tifa, who had just returned with a tray full of food, looked at them in turn. "What are you talking about?"

  "Nothing," Anastasha replied quickly, before pulling Tifa's hand. "Come on, eat first. I'm hungry."

  Emily remained standing there, watching the two of them go to another table. At that moment, Susan returned with a tray containing a bowl of soup and a small plate of finely chopped Lettus shoots.

  "Here's food for your patient."

  Emily accepted the tray with a nod. Glancing at Anastasha who was still busy chatting with Tifa, she thought to herself, maybe tomorrow would be a better time.

  The sound of the sliding door was heard softly as Emily entered, followed by the warm aroma of the bowl of soup she brought. The golden light from the Trappist star reflected subtle shadows on the sterile white walls, adding to the serene impression in the room. Helki was still lying on the medical bed, his back slightly raised by a thin pillow. His half-open eyes seemed to glisten dimly under the light, sweeping the room before finally stopping on Emily's figure.

  Emily then placed the tray of food on the small table beside her, then stirred the soup with a spoon, checking the temperature. "Mrs. Susan made this. She said this soup is good for recovery."

  Helki shifted his gaze to the bowl. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if considering something, but finally he just let out a short breath. "I can eat by myself," he muttered, his voice still hoarse.

  Emily raised an eyebrow, then rested her chin on her hand. "Oh? Really?" She glanced at Helki's hand which was still shaking slightly on the blanket. "Of course. Go ahead."

  Helki was silent. His hand rose a few inches before falling again. With a flat expression, he looked away. "Damn."

  Emily chuckled, took the spoon and deftly spooned the soup into his mouth. "Now, open your mouth," she said jokingly, like a mother feeding a small child.

  Helki only glanced at her briefly before giving in. She opened her mouth without much resistance, reluctantly taking the first bite.

  Several bites passed in silence, accompanied only by the slight sound of the spoon touching the bowl. After a while, Emily finally put the spoon down and leaned back in her chair.

  "By the way," he said in a lighter tone, "Anastasha was looking for you earlier."

  Helki stopped chewing.

  "I told her I haven't seen you today," Emily continued, watching the young man's reaction.

  Helki swallowed his food, then closed his eyes for a moment. "I figured she'd look for me," he muttered softly.

  "But you're not too happy to hear it?"

  A long sigh escaped his lips. "It's not about being happy or not." He stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Emily. "I just don't want her to get involved with me any further."

  Emily tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "And why is that?"

  Helki didn't answer immediately. He just stared blankly ahead, his expression unreadable.

  Emily sighed, then leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees. "Okay. If you don't want to talk about Anastasha, maybe you want to talk about something else."

  Helki glanced at her.

  "Nine hours ago," Emily continued, her voice now calmer. "What happened in Sis Fani's room?"

  This time, Helki's expression changed slightly. Not much, just a slight tension in his shoulders, a slight sharpening in his eyes.

  Emily caught it.

  "She hit you, right?"

  Helki didn't answer right away. He just closed his eyes for a moment, as if weighing something in his head. A few seconds passed, then he opened his eyes again.

  His final answer?

  Silence.

  No nod, no denial, no complaint.

  Emily sighed softly. She wasn't stupid, she knew when someone chose not to talk. She could have forced him, pressed him with sharper questions, but…

  Emily studied Helki's face, which now looked more tired than before.

  She wasn't going to get an answer today.

  "I won't press it," he said finally, and got up. "But if you need someone to listen, I'm here."

  Helki didn't react. But her gaze softened slightly.

  Emily walked over to the control panel on the wall and pressed a button. A split second later, the Night Blanket activated, dimming the room’s lights and replacing them with artificial darkness.

  Steppe had been bathed in daylight for two years. But in this room, at least temporarily, night had returned.

  Emily glanced at Helki one more time before turning and exiting the room, leaving the young man to rest in silence.

  The Trappist bright-dim light filtered through the window lattice, casting golden lines across the wooden table covered in papers and electronic devices. The scent of herbal tea still hung in the air, mingling with the smell of old books and long-working machines. In the corner of the room, Fani stood with her back to the door, her eyes glued to the dimly glowing monitor screen.

  Then, there was a knock.

  Slowly, she turned her head. There was no call, no request to enter, just that knock, heavy and sure. A pause hung in the air before the doorknob turned slowly.

  Helki stood in the doorway.

  He was not wearing his jacket, just a wrinkled shirt with the sleeves rolled up carelessly. His emerald eyes looked calmer, though there were still traces of fatigue left in the corners. Under the light, his face looked more mature than before, or perhaps, more at peace with himself.

  Fani opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't. Her eyes sparkled, a reflection of something close to hope.

  For a moment, they just stared at each other until,

  "So," Fani finally spoken, her voice was soft, but there was a hint of caution in it. "You're back."

  "I wanted to make sure of a few things," Helki finally spoke, his tone deep, steady. "Before I really stay."

  Fani closed her monitor screen. She took a small breath before stepping closer, her steps light, almost hesitant.

  "You weren't forced into this," she said softly, her tone like a whisper in the morning wind.

  "I know."

  Helki swallowed, remembering how the last time they met, Fani's voice wasn't as soft as this, her gentleness was different that time. Back then, every word that came out of the girl's mouth was a dagger that pierced his defenses. He remembered the anger that filled this room, the words that peeled away every piece of false pride he had held on to.

  And he remembered… how after that, everything went dark.

  Helki took a deep breath. "I don't want to run anymore," he said, his voice steadier than he thought. "I… can't anymore."

  Fani stared at him deeply, as if trying to find certainty in his eyes. Helki did not avoid it.

  "Why?" Fani finally asked.

  Helki sighed, looked down for a moment, then looked back at the girl. "I thought about my mother's words."

  Fani did not interrupt.

  "'Live and appreciate life,' that's what she said," Helki continued. "But all this time, I've only been... living. Just existing. Avoiding. Hiding. I thought that was enough."

  His hands clenched on his thighs. "But I was wrong."

  Fani remained silent, but there was a glint in her eyes.

  "I don't know what I can do. I don't know if I'm really useful here. But at least, I want to try," continued Helki, his voice shaking a little. "Because maybe... that's what my mother really meant. Not just living, but choosing to... be a part of something. To make my life meaningful to others, even if only a little."

  Silence hung.

  Then, suddenly, Fani stood up. Helki was surprised when the girl stepped closer to him, and before he could react, something warm enveloped him.

  A hug.

  Helki froze. His muscles tensed instantly. Fani said nothing, just let the warmth of her body touch his skin, gently but surely.

  Fani felt his tension, but did not let go of his embrace.

  "Welcome to the Steppe, Helki," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly with happiness too great to contain. "I welcome you warmly."

  Two years. Two years since the last time he had heard a truly sincere greeting.

  Helki finally raised his hand, hesitant, before awkwardly patting Fani's back. It wasn't a perfect response, but it was enough.

  When they parted, Fani smiled. A smile that seemed to say, you're not alone anymore.

  Helki returned it, small, almost invisible. But for the first time, it wasn't a forced smile.

  Catharsis, not just an explosion of feelings, but a complete reconstruction of the view of the world. For someone who has had enough of everything finally chooses to look once again, not with tired eyes, but with a new awareness. However, this catharsis does not come without a shadow, behind every decision, something moves silently, something that someone does not know. They have set foot in Rosianna, and it is only a matter of time before this meeting dragged by a strange fate explodes.

  End of Chapter IX