Chapter 94 — The Awakening
For six long months, the hospital had become a second home to James, Ruby, and Minji. The sterile scent of antiseptics, the steady hum of medical instruments, and the faint rhythmic beeping of heart monitors were all too familiar to them now.
Day after day, Ruby and Minji would visit in turns, sometimes together, sometimes separately. They would bring flowers, talk softly near the beds, sometimes even read books aloud—anything to fill the suffocating silence that hung around Moon and Kai's unmoving bodies. Their voices, though often steady, carried an undertone of fear: fear that the brothers might never wake again.
Time passed like a slow-dripping faucet, each day bleeding into the next. Six months slipped by, and the world outside continued its relentless march forward. Ruby and Minji had reached King Level during this time, their names whispered in awe among hunters and cultivators alike. James himself had climbed to the rank of High-Class Professional, though his heart never felt the weight of victory. His friends, the brothers he had once laughed and bled with, still lay trapped in a world of silence.
It was on an ordinary afternoon, when sunlight filtered through the half-closed blinds in narrow, golden bars, that James walked into the hospital once again. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something metallic, the same scent that had clung to him every visit. His shoulders were slouched, not from fatigue of the body but from the quiet weight of repetition. Six months of this place had worn on him.
He carried no flowers, no books, no gifts—only the heaviness of routine. The nurses knew his face well by now. He gave one of them a tired nod, received a polite smile in return, and pushed the door open with a slow, familiar motion.
Inside, the room was dim, lit mostly by the sunlight that managed to sneak past the blinds. Machines stood like silent guardians around the two beds, their monitors pulsing with faint green light. The steady beep… beep… of heart monitors was the only sign that Moon and Kai were still tethered to life. They lay side by side, pale and unmoving, as though they had chosen to sleep through the changing of the world.
James dragged a chair between the two beds, its legs scraping softly against the tiled floor. He sat down, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. For the first few minutes, he simply looked at them—at the stillness of their faces, at the way their chests rose and fell faintly with each breath. It was always the same, and yet, every time he hoped for something different.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was low, steady, carrying the rhythm of a man who had learned to fill silence out of necessity.
"You won't believe how things have changed," he began, his eyes flicking from Moon to Kai as though expecting them to respond. "Sister Ruby and Sister Minji… they've both already reached King Level. Can you imagine? The two of them—pushing through walls most people can't even see. Their names are spreading everywhere now."
He leaned forward, his voice a little firmer. "And me—I've managed to push myself up to High-Class Professional. It wasn't easy. Honestly… there were days I thought I'd collapse. But somehow, I did it." A faint chuckle escaped him, hollow and without mirth. "Feels strange, telling you all this when you don't even move. But maybe… maybe you can hear me."
He shifted in the chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh. Then his words drifted into softer currents.
"The world outside hasn't slowed down, you know. Missions, hunts, politics—everything is moving faster than ever. The Shifting Expanse is still as dangerous as ever. People are still dying. But somehow, life just… keeps going."
His voice wandered into lighter topics after that, more like a friend rambling than a man reporting. He spoke of odd missions, of faces he'd met, of hunters who bragged too loudly, of small victories and bitter losses. He even mentioned a market vendor who had tried to cheat him on supplies, or the ridiculous rumor that a beast had escaped the restricted zones and was spotted near the capital gates.
Each story filled the stillness like ripples on water. James's tone would rise, then soften, then break into a small, wistful laugh, only to be swallowed again by the silence of the room.
But no matter how many words he spilled, nothing changed. Moon and Kai lay as they always had—motionless, as though carved from silence itself.
Still, James kept talking. Because if he didn't, the silence would eat him alive.
And then—something changed.
James froze mid-sentence. His eyes darted to Kai's monitor—the steady rhythm of the heart had spiked. The heartbeat quickened, not erratic but alive, stronger. He looked at Kai's hand, and to his shock, one of the fingers twitched. Just a fraction of movement, but enough to send James to his feet in panic.
"Kai…?!" His voice cracked, heart hammering.
The finger twitched again.
Without another thought, James spun around and bolted to the door. "Doctor! Doctor, come quickly!" His shout echoed down the sterile hallways, sharp enough to draw immediate attention.
The medical team rushed in. They moved swiftly, checking vitals, running procedures, murmuring to each other in professional shorthand. One of the doctors grabbed James by the arm and firmly escorted him out of the room.
"Wait! What's happening?!" James demanded, but the door slammed shut, leaving him in the corridor with nothing but his pounding chest and the distant muffled sounds of medical work.
Minutes crawled by. Ten. Fifteen. Each second a knife cutting into James's nerves. He paced the hallway, hands clenched, until at last the door opened.
The head doctor stepped out, wiping sweat from his forehead. His face broke into a rare smile.
"Congratulations," he said. "Both patients are officially out of their comas. Their bodies are weak, their muscles atrophied, but with rehabilitation, they will recover. For now, they'll need about a month of focused muscle therapy. Until then—they'll remain in wheelchairs. But make no mistake, they are alive, awake, and safe."
James's knees nearly buckled with relief. He nodded, words catching in his throat. "T-thank you… thank you, doctor."
When James was finally allowed back inside, he half-expected to see Moon and Kai sitting upright, smiling, cracking some sarcastic remark as they always did. Instead, they still lay asleep—peacefully, almost childlike. Confused, James turned to the doctor again.
"They're still asleep?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but reassuring.
"Yes. Do not worry. This is ordinary sleep. After waking from a coma, the body often shuts itself down to recover. When they wake naturally, they will be conscious. If you wish, you may stay by their side until then."
James felt his shoulders loosen, a tension he hadn't realized was crushing him. Relief spread through him like warmth after a long winter chill. He nodded quickly, unable to form more than a faint, "Thank you."
He turned back into the room. The soft, rhythmic beep… beep… beep of the monitors filled the silence like a slow heartbeat of the world itself. He dragged a chair between the two beds and sank down, the metal legs scraping faintly against the floor. Sitting there, he placed one hand on the edge of Moon's bed, the other brushing lightly against Kai's blanket, as if grounding himself in their presence.
He settled in for a vigil.
Hours bled into one another. The golden afternoon light faded into the deep indigo of night. The fluorescent hospital lights above buzzed faintly, cold and pale. Nurses came and went, their shoes clicking softly across the floor, but James barely noticed them. His focus never strayed far from the still faces of his brothers.
Sleep tugged at his eyes more than once. He let his head fall against the back of the chair, drifting for minutes at a time before jerking awake at the faintest sound. Yet no matter how heavy his fatigue grew, he never left the room. He had promised himself he would be there—when, not if—they woke.
Night dissolved into dawn, dawn into day again. Seventeen long hours passed.
And then—
A sound broke the silence.
At first it was so soft James thought he was imagining it. A muffled, guttural noise. His eyes snapped open, heart hammering. He leaned forward.
A low grunt.
His gaze shot toward Kai.
Kai chest rose unevenly, his eyelids twitching as if trapped in a dream. Then, slowly, painfully, they fluttered open. His eyes—eyes James had not seen in 3 year—gazed upward, dull and empty, stripped of the fire that once defined them. They were eyes that looked through the world, not at it.
The sight made James's throat tighten. He gripped the chair arms, leaning closer. Kai's lips parted, his breath shallow, but no sound came. His hand trembled weakly atop the sheets, like a candle flickering against the wind.
"Kai…!" James's voice cracked with a mix of disbelief and joy. "You're awake!"
Kai's gaze shifted toward him, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as recognition fought its way back. His body was fragile, his spirit shaken, but the faintest curve of his lips—an exhausted, broken smile—told James everything words could not.
And then, almost as if the bond between them demanded it, Moon stirred. His breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling faster. His head shifted, his face tightening, before his eyelids lifted. For a moment his eyes rolled upward, struggling to focus, then they opened fully.
Like Kai, his gaze was pale, hollow, as though dragged back from the brink of death. The once-bright glimmer of defiance that had always burned within him was gone, replaced by fragility. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, his lips barely moving as if testing whether they still belonged to him.
Both brothers had returned.
James swallowed hard, torn between overwhelming joy and crushing sorrow. The tears that threatened to fall were not of sadness, but of sheer relief. He forced a smile, leaning forward so they could see his face clearly.
"Don't move," he said quickly, voice steady but gentle. "Don't push yourselves. Just rest. You've… been gone for so long."
Neither Moon nor Kai answered. Their bodies were too weak, their voices stolen by months of silence. Yet the subtle movements of their eyes, the faint flutter of their fingers, were proof enough that they were here. Alive. Present.
James leaned back into his chair, running a hand through his hair. His heart was still racing, his emotions torn between laughter and tears. But instead of breaking apart, he steadied himself. His voice softened.
"You need to know everything," he whispered. "How I found you. What happened after. How the call came about your location. You deserve to know the truth."
And so, in that quiet hospital room, James began to speak.
His words wove through the stillness like threads of light. He recounted the day he received the mysterious call, the urgency in the stranger's voice. He described finding them broken, their lives hanging by a thread, and the frantic effort to get them here before it was too late.
Then he spoke of the months that followed—Ruby and Minji's rise to King Level, their battles in the Shifting Expanse, their victories and scars. He told them of his own journey, of the nights he trained until his hands bled, of the day he finally crossed the threshold into High-Class Professional. He even shared smaller, quieter details: the flowers Ruby once brought, the way Minji scolded the doctors for not updating her fast enough, the prayers whispered in the stillness of the ward.
For an hour, his voice carried through the dimly lit room. Every word was a rope, binding Moon and Kai back to the world they had nearly slipped away from.
When his story ended, silence returned. James leaned back in the chair, exhausted but lighter than he had felt in months. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at them again, his voice breaking into a whisper.
"You're safe now," he said. "You're home."
Soon after, arrangements were made. The doctors—satisfied with their vitals—cleared them for discharge under James's supervision. Recovery would be long, but possible. For now, wheelchairs waited by the door, ready to carry the brothers out of the suffocating stillness of the hospital and into a new chapter of their lives.
And for James, guiding those chairs out the door would be the sweetest burden he had ever carried.
To be continued…