Chapter 93 – The Ward of Two Brothers
The reception hall of the hospital was vast and sterile, lit with a pale, artificial glow that seemed to hum with quiet authority. At the center sat a sleek, humanoid robot, its chrome fingers tapping lightly against a holographic screen. Its face was smooth, emotionless—only two glowing eyes, shifting constantly, scanning every soul that stepped into its range.
Minji did not waste a second. She walked forward with purpose, her heels clicking against the pristine floor, and presented her credentials. The robot's head tilted with a soft whir, a beam of light passing over her body.
"Identity confirmed. Payment processed. Access granted—Ward, Floor 20."
The monotone voice echoed in the chamber. Minji exhaled in relief. She turned back, motioning for James and Ruby to follow.
The three of them stepped into the elevator.
It was a tall, cylindrical chamber with glass-paneled walls that revealed the vertical tunnel outside. As the doors sealed shut with a faint hiss, a vibration rippled beneath their feet. The platform lifted smoothly, rising higher and higher.
Cold-white beams of light lined the tunnel, stretching endlessly upward like the ribs of some mechanical giant. Each segment of light flickered faintly, creating a pulse-like rhythm—steady, clinical, unfeeling.
James stood in the middle of the cabin. His shoulders were square, but his fists clenched unconsciously at his sides. On his left stood Ruby, arms folded, face carved into quiet focus. On his right was Minji, her lips pressed together, eyes lowered, lost in thoughts she did not dare voice.
The silence inside the elevator was unbearable. The only sounds were the faint whine of gears hidden within the shaft and the muffled thrum of James's own heartbeat pounding in his ears. The higher they rose, the heavier the air seemed to become.
James stared straight ahead, but every breath he took was uneven.
Minutes—or maybe only seconds—passed before the elevator slowed. With a subtle shift, its ascent halted. A soft chime rang out, sharp in the silence.
Ding.
The doors parted with mechanical precision.
What awaited them was a corridor that looked as if it had been carved from the idea of sterility itself. The walls gleamed in spotless white, polished so perfectly that they reflected the dim silhouettes of the three figures stepping out. Embedded lights ran along the ceiling in neat strips, their glow faint but steady—like stars trapped in a narrow, clinical sky.
The floor stretched endlessly, every step echoing faintly against the silence. Overhead, cameras were perched at regular intervals, their red sensors glowing faintly, tracking their every movement like silent, unblinking eyes.
Ruby glanced once at the cameras, then kept her eyes ahead. Minji's hands tightened around the folds of her coat. James did not look at either of them. His gaze was locked forward, drawn to the end of the corridor.
There—set into the steel wall—was a reinforced door. A plaque gleamed faintly on its surface, etched letters catching the cold light:
Patient 01 – Moon
Patient 02 – Kai
For the briefest of moments, his legs faltered. He slowed, unable to tear his eyes from the names engraved before him. Moon. Kai. The reality of it slammed into him harder than he had prepared for.
Minji and Ruby glanced at him, but neither spoke. They knew words could not steady what he was feeling.
James inhaled shakily, forcing himself forward. He lifted his hand, fingers trembling against the cool air. When his palm pressed against the scanner beside the door, the surface glowed faint blue.
A low, mechanical hum vibrated through the steel.
Bzzzzt—click.
The door hissed softly as the seals disengaged, releasing a faint gust of sterile air. Normally, no outsider could breach such a ward—not without clearance that spanned layers of bureaucracy. But this was different. The surveillance AI had already logged their identities, traced their every movement, and silently authorized their entry.
The heavy door slid open, revealing the truth waiting within.
Inside, the air was sharp with antiseptic, that sterile sting that clung to the throat, undercut by the faint hum of ventilators and the occasional hiss of oxygen valves. Machines lined the walls in quiet vigilance, their screens pulsing with soft lines of green and blue.
Beep… beep… beep…
Each sound was steady, mechanical, yet oddly soothing—like a lullaby composed by machines, reminding the room that life, however fragile, still lingered here.
James stepped in first. His boots made almost no sound on the polished floor, yet to him, each step thundered in his chest. His eyes adjusted, and then—
He froze.
Two beds stood in the center of the ward, white sheets tucked with surgical precision. Upon them lay the figures that had haunted his thoughts, his prayers, his fears.
Moon.
Kai.
The sight slammed into him like a blow.
Both brothers wore thin, pale-green patient uniforms, their bodies looking smaller, more fragile against the sea of sterile white. Electrodes were attached to their temples, faint wires tracing into the machines. Their faces were pale, drained of all warmth, lips nearly colorless. Yet—
Their chests rose.
And fell.
Slow, faint, but unmistakable.
They were breathing.
They were alive.
James's throat constricted. A sound escaped him—a ragged breath that trembled like a sob. His knees felt as though they might give way. For so long he had tried not to imagine this moment, tried not to let hope burn him again. And now here it was, real and blinding.
His heart almost shattered from the sheer relief.
But before he could even take a step closer, the air itself seemed to ripple.
Something moved—fast, soundless, like a streak of shadow cutting across the light. James's head snapped up.
A blur of black smoke shot past him and landed on Ruby with a soft thump. For an instant, she staggered, startled—but then she gasped, clutching at the small body pressed against her chest.
Her eyes widened. Recognition struck her in a single heartbeat.
It was small, warm, covered in fur as dark as midnight. Bright eyes glowed faintly against that inky coat.
Kuro.
The black wolf cub.
Moon's bonded companion.
Ruby's lips parted in shock, but her face immediately softened. She held him close, the edge of her usual stoicism cracking, revealing the tenderness buried deep beneath.
At the same instant, another surge of energy swept the room. A blur of white and azure streaked toward Minji. Before she could react, the creature was already in her arms—fur as white as untouched snow, marked with glowing blue stripes that shimmered faintly under the sterile light.
Two sapphire eyes stared up at her with uncontainable joy.
Snow.
Kai's bonded beast. The white tiger cub.
Minji stumbled backward, clutching the cub instinctively, her breath catching in her throat. Her entire body trembled. Then the tears came—unstoppable, flooding her vision, slipping hot down her cheeks.
Her voice broke, shattering the silence:
"I… I thought… I thought I had already lost you forever…"
Her words dissolved into sobs. She bent her head over the little tiger, holding him as though she could melt him into her very heart.
Snow pressed his muzzle against her chin, his small paws reaching for her face. A faint rumble rose from his chest—a purr, a reassurance. His gesture was as clear as words:
I'm here. I never left.
Ruby, too, cradled Kuro tightly, her chin brushing against his soft fur. The steel mask she so often wore cracked apart. Her eyes shimmered with moisture, her lips curving into the faintest smile.
For a heartbeat, both women were no longer standing in a hospital ward. The sterile walls and beeping machines disappeared. The weight of worry and pain, the fear for Moon and Kai—it all blurred away.
And in that fleeting moment, both Ruby and Minji forgot everything else.
But James did not. He could not.
Ignoring the scene, he walked stiffly to the beds. His knees felt weak as he leaned closer to the brothers. His vision blurred. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks.
"You're alive…" he breathed, voice barely audible.
Never, in his entire life, had joy struck him this deeply. The relief tore him apart. He wanted to throw himself over them, to hold them, but he restrained himself. He knew too much interference could trigger complications. He stayed near, quietly crying, silently swearing he would never let them suffer alone again.
Minutes passed. Minji and Ruby eventually placed Snow and Kuro gently aside and approached the brothers' beds. They checked vitals, traced the outlines of injuries. The readings were stable, but the wounds told another story.
Minji frowned.
"This wasn't the work of an essence creature. If it was, they wouldn't be alive at all."
Ruby's expression hardened.
"No. This is the work of a human. Or another… intelligent race."
The room grew heavy with the weight of that realization.
They didn't press it further. Instead, they made arrangements—Moon and Kai were transferred to a premium ward, one with higher security, better equipment, and layers of protection. No risks would be taken.
That Night – House No. 002
The dining room was steeped in a fragile peace. The only sounds were the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain and the low, steady hiss of firewood burning in the hearth. Flames licked softly at the logs, their glow painting restless shadows across the walls.
For the first time in days—perhaps even weeks—James, Minji, and Ruby sat before a meal that was more than just survival. Steam curled upward from bowls of rich broth, platters of roasted vegetables gleamed with oil, and warm bread sat at the center of the table, its crust still crackling faintly.
The aroma was thick and comforting. With each bite, the tension in their shoulders eased, as if their bodies, deprived for so long, barely remembered the sensation of nourishment.
James chewed slowly, savoring the warmth sliding into his stomach. He could feel the hollowness inside him begin to fill, the edge of fatigue softening at last. But even with food in front of him, his mind wouldn't rest.
The silence stretched too long. Finally, he broke it. His voice carried hesitation, but also a weight that refused to stay unspoken.
"There's something I don't understand." He set his spoon down, eyes flicking between the women. "If Moon and Kai are alive—if we saw them with our own eyes—then why did you, Minji… say you saw Snow dissolve into energy particles?"
The words landed like stones in water. The faint comfort of the room rippled, disturbed.
Ruby froze mid-bite, her fork hovering just above her plate. Minji's hand went still. She lowered her spoon slowly, her gaze sinking into the food as if it could provide an answer she didn't have.
A silence heavier than before followed.
Minji's lips parted, then closed again. Her fingers trembled faintly as she clasped them together on the table. When she finally spoke, her voice was hushed, almost brittle:
"…I don't know. I can't explain it. I saw it clearly, James. I felt it. I'm certain of what I saw."
Her words hung, cold and absolute.
Ruby shifted in her chair, discomfort flashing briefly across her usually composed face. She set her utensils down, leaning back.
"Maybe it was a trick," she said carefully. "A hallucination… or something beyond what we can comprehend right now. Whatever it was—" she exhaled, eyes flicking toward the firelight, "—only Moon and Kai can tell us the truth when they wake."
The room seemed smaller after that. The fire crackled louder, the shadows deeper.
James leaned back slowly in his chair. His eyes moved from Ruby to Minji, studying the doubt etched in their expressions, the uncertainty they couldn't hide. His own face was weary, carved with sleepless lines—but his gaze held a quiet resolve.
"Then we wait." His voice was firm, though quiet.
The meal ended not long after. No more words were needed; exhaustion spoke louder than anything else. They cleaned little, leaving the table half-cleared, then parted ways with soft nods instead of goodbyes.
James stepped out into the night. The air outside was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of rain that had yet to fall. His boots clicked gently against the stone street as he walked home, the silence of the city pressing in like a blanket.
His body was heavy, weighted by everything he had seen and everything he still didn't understand. But his heart—against all odds—felt lighter. Moon and Kai were alive. That truth alone steadied him.
By the time he reached his door, fatigue clung to him like a second skin. He moved through his empty home without thought, dropped his coat across a chair, and collapsed into bed.
For the first time in years, sleep did not resist him. His stomach was warm, his spirit, if not whole, then at least calmer.
And in the quiet darkness, James drifted into dreams that, for once, did not haunt, but comforted.
To be continued…