I was woken by the sound of murmuring voices. Not loud—just persistent, like a tide brushing gently against a shore. I blinked groggily, light bleeding into my vision. I realized my head was resting on something warm.
Joeress.
I lifted my gaze and saw him sitting against the wall, my head in his lap. His eyes were distant, watching the people walking past, but there was a softness to his expression—like he was somewhere far away but not unhappy to be there.
I turned toward the crowd, dazed.
"Oh, you're awake," his voice came from above, gentle but grounded.
I quickly sat up, my face burning. "I'm sorry," I muttered, brushing my hair from my eyes.
"I don't mind. You were tired." He smiled at me. Just that—simple, kind, and enough to make my stomach flutter for a second.
I turned to look for Mom and Aunt Gaizell. The spot where they'd been sleeping was empty. My heart skipped.
"Where's my mom and Aunt Gaizell?" I asked, trying not to sound worried.
"They went to get us food," he said, still calm, as if to reassure me nothing was wrong.
"Ahh," I exhaled, trying to relax again.
The room was alive with movement. Footsteps thudded softly against the floor, mingling with the hushed hum of conversation and the occasional whimper from a corner. Faces passed in blurs—some anxious, some empty. But then, a strange heat built in my head, and everything else began to blur.
It started as a pulse behind my eyes, then bloomed into a pounding throb. My skin flushed. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, trickling down my neck. I turned to Joeress, my breath growing shallow.
He noticed right away.
His brow furrowed as he leaned in and touched my forehead with the back of his hand. "You're hot," he said. "You've got a fever."
"No, I'm fine," I insisted, though my voice cracked and my limbs trembled.
"We're going to the clinic," he said firmly, scooping me up like I weighed nothing.
My body was burning up, but against his back, I felt safe—like nothing could touch me while he held on. The hallway blurred past us. His footsteps echoed like steady drums against the ground. I tried to lift my head, and through the haze, I saw the swinging doors of the clinic parting ahead of us.
"Doc, he's having a fever," Joeress said.
"Lay him down over there," the doctor replied, gesturing to a row of narrow beds.
Joeress set me down with surprising gentleness, brushing my hair back once before stepping aside.
"You should rest," he said softly.
"Mhm," I hummed, barely audible.
As my eyes closed, the world shifted.
I was no longer in the clinic.
I stood inside a circular room. The walls curved around me, covered in massive paintings. Some glowed faintly, others seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them. In the center of the room stood a pedestal—and atop it, the blue crytal from before, its vivid blue pulsing light.
I stepped forward, drawn to it. My hand reached out instinctively.
But before I could touch it, a painting crashed to the floor behind me with a deafening clang. I turned, startled—but the canvas was blank. Completely, eerily blank.
When I turned back to the pedestal, he was there.
Lae.
Standing just behind the crystal, half-shrouded in shadow.
I froze.
Before I could speak, he moved. His expression unreadable. He stepped forward, reaching out, and gently lifted my chin with his fingers. His touch was cold.
Then his thumb rested against my forehead.
"Why are you here?" he asked, voice low, almost sad.
I tried to answer—but I didn't know. Was this just a dream?
Before I could say anything more, he leaned in and whispered:
"Wake up."
I gasped and shot upright, my breath ragged. The clinic lights flickered above me, casting long shadows across the white walls.
Joeress was beside me in an instant, one hand gently patting my back. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
I met his gaze, still half lost in the memory. "Just… a bad dream," I whispered.
He didn't press. He just reached over and ruffled my hair.
A moment later, the door opened and Mom and Aunt Gaizell walked in, carrying plastic containers and a thermos between them.
"What's wrong?" Mom asked quickly, rushing to the bedside.
"He's running a fever," Joeress explained.
"Good thing we brought soup," Aunt Gaizell said, already unpacking the containers.
We sat in a little circle around the bed, the smell of warm broth filling the sterile air. For a moment, it felt like things were normal. Familiar.
But my mind was still stuck on Lae.
That dream… it didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. As if he'd reached into my sleep and pulled me to him.
"Cirus," Mom said, handing me a cup, "after you eat, drink the medicine your aunt brought."
I blinked, snapping back. "Okay."
"Oh, and they announced it's safe to come out now. They said the humanoid was neutralized," she added.
"Did they identify what kind it was?" Joeress asked.
"They said it was a Class 2. Big, sure—but weak-skinned," Mom said, her tone still wary. "It's not one of the more dangerous ones."
"After you take the medicine, be sure to rest," Mom said, looking at me again.
"I'm fine," I protested weakly. "I don't need to—"
"You may feel fine now, but you're still burning up," she insisted.
"Okay," I conceded.
I glanced at my soup, then at Joeress, who was watching me with a small smile.
"I can stay with him," he offered. "Make sure he rests."
"Oh, you don't have to—" Mom began.
"I insist," he said.
Joeress gave me a look—calm and warm. I couldn't meet his eyes for long. My face was too hot again, and I wasn't sure it was just the fever.
"Alright," Mom said, standing. "We'll go check on the house. See if anything survived."
"Okay," I said softly.
Once they left, the clinic fell quiet again. The silence was thick but not heavy. Peaceful, in a way. I stared at the ceiling, letting my breathing slow.
I turned slightly and saw Joeress, cross-legged by my bed, notebook open in his lap, pen scribbling steadily.
"What are you writing?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked up. "My diary."
"Oh."
A pause stretched. Then his voice came again, a little more deliberate.
"By the way... this humanoid with the black wings. How did you two meet?"
The question caught me off guard. I hesitated, searching his expression—but it was neutral, curious, not accusatory.
"We met during my first mission," I said quietly. "He saved me. From another humanoid."
Joeress hummed, thoughtful. "And his name?"
"He told me to call him Lae."
He nodded slowly, repeating it under his breath.
"Lae…"