Chapter 84 - Sick and Bedridden

  I stand before an immense, otherworldly tree, its gnarled form stretching a hundred meters into the sky. Its writhing branches twist and coil like living tendrils, as if the tree itself were a slumbering beast caught in an eternal nightmare. The trunk is unlike any I’ve ever seen—deep spiral gaps carve through its bark, exposing a pulsating golden light that seeps from within, casting eerie shadows across the desolation below.

  This monstrous tree looms over the ruins of a once-thriving city—Xyraxis Metropolis. I know this place. I have walked these streets before. But now, everything is dead. The vibrant neon signs that once lit up the skyline have long since faded. The hum of technology, the ever-present buzz of life—it’s all gone.

  What remains is a skeletal husk of a city, an abandoned ruin where silence reigns supreme. Even the Archonlight Tower, the very bastion that once shielded not just this city, but the entire planet, has crumbled into dust.

  A deep, resonant pulse emanates from the tree, hammering against my skull. My head throbs. A piercing, high-pitched ringing fills my left ear, grating against my senses. But in my right ear—soft, yet unmistakable—I hear a voice.

  "Please kill me. Please kill me. Please kill me. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

  The whisper slithers directly into my brain, threading through my thoughts like a parasite burrowing deep. The pain in my head intensifies, a relentless pounding that threatens to split me apart.

  Then, the tree moves. Its massive form unfurls like a grotesque flower in bloom, its glowing crevices expanding. And there, at the very heart of it all—???.

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  I jolted awake, gasping for breath. The darkness pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating, as if the remnants of my nightmare still clung to the air. My head throbbed viciously — each pulse a hammer strike against my skull — and a wave of dizziness washed over me the moment I tried to sit up.

  Blinking through the haze, I reached for my phone, its dim screen the only source of light in the room. 6:00 AM. Too early, yet far too late for the rest I clearly needed. I groaned softly, remembering my plans. The shuttle terminal. I had to be there by eight.

  I pushed against the mattress, trying to lift myself up. Pain shot through my arms — weak, trembling, and useless — as if all the strength had been siphoned from my body overnight. My muscles felt like dead weight, refusing to cooperate. The slightest movement made my head spin, and a deep, cold ache settled into my bones.

  “Ah.” The sound escaped my lips, barely more than a breath. My chest felt tight, each inhale shallow and unsatisfying. The dizziness swelled again, twisting my vision. I sank back into the bed, cursing under my breath.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Just how unlucky am I?” My voice was a whisper, hoarse and bitter. The chill clung to my skin, wrapping around me like a damp blanket. I shivered and pulled the covers tighter, though it did little to ease the discomfort.

  Resigned, I closed my eyes and tried to relax, hoping that rest would restore some semblance of strength. Time slipped away. When I opened my eyes again, sunlight crept through the cracks in the curtains, casting pale streaks across the room.

  I checked my phone once more. Over an hour had passed. Yet, instead of feeling better, my body felt even heavier. My limbs ached, my head swam, and an overwhelming drowsiness pulled at me like an anchor.

  “I’m definitely sick,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. The weight of that realization settled heavily in my chest. So much for making it home for the holidays.

  With sluggish fingers, I tapped out a message, each word feeling like a monumental task.

  Me: Mom, I won’t be able to go home. I’m sick.

  The screen dimmed as I let the phone slip from my grasp, the cold seeping deeper into my body. I closed my eyes once more, surrendering to the feverish haze.

  After sending the message, I let my phone slip from my fingers and closed my eyes, trying to sink back into sleep. The dull ache in my head pulsed with every heartbeat, and my body felt like it was sinking deeper into the mattress. Time drifted in a feverish blur until a faint vibration against my pillow snapped me back to reality.

  I squinted at my phone’s screen. A message from Mom.

  Mom: Okay. Make sure to stay hydrated and take some paracetamol.

  I sighed softly, placing the phone back down. Even though I wouldn’t be making it back home for the holidays — even though I’d be stuck in this dormitory for the next five days — I needed to focus on recovering. Still, I couldn’t shake the bitter disappointment that settled in my chest.

  Of all things… the mission about the Cosmic Tree is making me sick.

  The thought lingered, heavy and unwanted. This holiday was going to be even duller now that I was bedridden. No warm meals with family. No seeing old friends. Just me, this cold room, and my pounding head.

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  Suddenly, my phone buzzed again, the sound sharp against the silence. I reached for it, expecting another message from Mom, but froze when I saw the sender. Myrrh.

  Myrrh: Have a safe trip! Please give my regards to Jessica and Joana. They’re your classmates, right? They were a huge part of the student government and the high school judo club.

  I stared at the message, a wave of regret washing over me. I should’ve told her earlier. With a slow, tired exhale, I typed out a reply.

  Me: I won’t be going back to Earth. I feel sick.

  A few seconds passed before my screen lit up again.

  Myrrh: (???)

  Myrrh: Wait, where are you right now?

  I frowned.

  Me: I’m in my room here in the dormitory.

  Me: Why?

  Her response was almost immediate.

  Myrrh: I’ll come over.

  I blinked, sitting up slightly despite the sharp ache in my head.

  Me: What?

  Me: Wait, why?

  The screen stayed quiet for a moment, but my heart pounded a little harder now. I stared at the phone, half in disbelief, half in anticipation, waiting for her next message.

  Myrrh didn’t reply. Not even a “seen” mark. The silence felt heavier than it should have, leaving me to stare at the dim screen. With a weary sigh, I set the phone aside and pulled my thick blanket over myself. Despite the warmth of the room, an icy chill crept beneath my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. My head throbbed, my body ached, and the fever gnawed at me like a relentless parasite.

  Five minutes passed. Then—knock, knock, knock.

  The soft raps against my door echoed through the stillness. Then came a voice.

  “Zaft? Are you there?”

  Myrrh.

  I blinked in disbelief. “Y-yeah. Coming,” I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  Summoning what little strength I had, I pushed myself up, limbs trembling beneath the weight of my fever. I staggered toward the door, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Each step felt sluggish, the floor tilting slightly beneath me. Finally, I reached the handle and pulled the door open.

  There she stood.

  Myrrh.

  She wore a simple white blouse, its soft fabric flowing over her frame, and a pair of jean shorts that revealed her long, slender legs. Her greenish-blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the light in soft waves. But what caught me most were her eyes—cool, clear blue, filled with quiet concern.

  “M-Myrrh!?” I gasped, gripping the doorframe for balance. “W-what are you doing here?”

  She folded her arms, pouting slightly. “I told you I was coming over, didn’t I? Or did you not read my messages?”

  I blinked. “You’re one to talk…” I muttered under my breath.

  Her expression softened as she stepped closer. “How are you feeling?” She reached out, pressing her soft palm against my forehead. Her touch was gentle, almost soothing, but the sudden coolness against my feverish skin made me shiver.

  “You’re burning up,” she said quietly, brows knitting together. “Mind if I invite myself in? I don’t think you should be standing.”

  “Y-yeah, sure.” My voice wavered as I turned back toward my bed, sinking into the mattress with a heavy sigh. Myrrh followed, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

  The room felt a little less cold now.

  Myrrh took a careful step into my room, her blue eyes sweeping across the space like she was exploring uncharted territory. Her gaze lingered on the ceiling for a moment before drifting to the walls, where the poster of an anime girl from the latest hit series stared back at her. She moved further in, her eyes catching the robot plastic model I’d painstakingly built just days ago, proudly displayed on my desk. Nearby, a precarious stack of superhero comics teetered against our university textbooks, both fighting for dominance over the limited desk space.

  “Hmm. Weird,” Myrrh muttered under her breath.

  I squinted at her. “What?” I croaked. “You sound like you’re exploring an alien planet.”

  “Well, you are an alien. At least you look like one.” She shot me a teasing smirk, then wrinkled her nose slightly and whispered to herself, “It smells like a boy’s room in here, but… for some reason, it’s not disgusting.”

  I groaned, sinking deeper into my blanket. “Nobody asked you to come over. You can leave if you’re just gonna add to my headache.”

  “Just kidding~” Myrrh giggled, brushing off my complaint as she plopped down onto the edge of my bed. Her weight shifted the mattress slightly, sending a ripple through the blanket that made me shiver. She grabbed a touchscreen thermometer from her bag and held it up.

  “Here,” she said, her voice softening. “Say ‘ah.’”

  I sighed, too tired to argue. “Aaaah.”

  Myrrh gently slid the thermometer under my tongue. The device hummed softly, projecting a small holographic display in the air. Numbers flickered for a moment before settling on a glowing red 38.5°C.

  “You have a fever,” she confirmed, brows furrowing.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I muttered, my voice laced with sarcasm. “I already knew that.”

  Myrrh just rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The room fell quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the soft hum of the thermometer and my own ragged breathing. Somehow, with her sitting there, the cold didn’t feel quite as bad anymore.

  “Do you have any medicine here?” Myrrh asked, glancing around the room as if painkillers might magically appear on my cluttered desk.

  “None,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my blanket.

  “How about water?”

  “My flask is empty. I forgot to refill my thermos too.”

  Myrrh let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms. “Okay, stay there and rest. Since the university clinic is closed, I’ll run to the pharmacy and grab some water and meds.” She pushed herself up from the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  “You don’t really need to—”

  “I’ll pick up some instant hot porridge while I’m at it.” She cut me off, already halfway to the door. “Oh, by the way, what do you want for lunch?”

  I blinked at her, baffled by how quickly she was taking charge. A tired smile tugged at the corner of my lips. If Myrrh wanted to play nurse, who was I to stop her? It sure beat rotting in bed alone until the holiday was over.

  “Sammelplatz Pizza,” I mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard.

  Myrrh’s eyes lit up. “Wow!” she beamed. “Excellent choice. I’ll grab one family-size box!” She spun on her heel, giving me a playful wink. “Just stay down and rest, okay? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I chuckled weakly, saluting her with trembling fingers. “Oh, wait.”

  She paused, turning back toward me. I fumbled through my bedside drawer, fingers clumsy with fever, until I found my keycard. Stretching out my arm, I handed it to her.

  “Here,” I said. “Just use this to get in and out of my room. No need to wake me up.”

  Myrrh stared at the keycard for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small, grateful smile, she accepted it.

  “Got it.” She slipped the card into her pocket, her smile lingering for just a heartbeat longer before she turned and disappeared out the door.

  The room felt a little quieter after she left. A little colder.

  I sighed and sank back into the blankets, my eyelids growing heavier. Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.