Yesterday, Mr. Gudman told me everyone is a thief. Maybe he was right. I keep thinking—am I one too? Stealing Dylan's life? Borrowing his body, his steps, his moments? But it's only for a while. Once the crystal wakes again, I'll return. This isn't mine forever. I'm just… keeping it alive for him.
"Let's leave the bed for now."
I rose carefully. The walker stood unused in the corner, almost like a relic of yesterday's weakness. My legs held me, steady this time. My grip was firm, my balance natural. Standing without support felt good—dangerously good. Almost like freedom. Did Dylan ever felt this way in his own body?
I washed up and decided to head downstairs.
The lobby was different from the upper floors. Fresh air flowed freely here, carrying the scent of flowers instead of antiseptic. Sunlight poured through wide windows, warming the greenery scattered across the floor.
"Huh, come to think about it, this is actually my first time setting foot into the ground floor." For the first time since waking, it felt less like a hospital and more like park.
"The air is so fresh down here. It feels so good. Not like the room, smelling all medicines and metals. There are so many flowers and plants here."
I heard a faint footstep coming towards my direction and a greeting followed "Good Morning, Dylan."
The voice pulled me around. Brian. His smile came easy, and suddenly the lobby didn't feel so large.
"Brian? You finally came to see me after two days, huh?" I tried to keep my excitement and tone light, casual—like Dylan would.
Brian chuckled, rubbing his neck. "Well, I came day before yesterday only to find that you were in physio. So I thought about, meeting you the day after, only for me to not being able to come home. Worked late due to the newly discovered dungeon." Brian spoke, while keeping an akward smile, so I didn't mock him.
I nodded, watching him. Dylan's brother. My brother, at least for a while. "Don't push yourself too hard. Rest when you can."
Then, without thinking, I asked: "What about the crystal? I haven't seen it since I woke up."
Brian froze. Just a fraction of a second, but enough. His smile stiffened, his gaze slid sideways.
"Oh… it's at home," he said, voice a little too even. "After the accident, Mark probably used up too much energy. He hasn't… really woken up since. Still there, don't worry."
He said it kindly, gently, but his fingers fiddled with his sleeve, and I caught a flicker of unease in his eyes. Still there… probably. Maybe. I clung to those words anyway. If I didn't believe Brian, what else was left?
Brian's voice was calm, but his fingers wouldn't stay still—tugging at his sleeve, adjusting his cuff, brushing dust that wasn't there. Like his hands couldn't lie as smoothly as his mouth. What exactly has happened?
"I see. And this dungeon you mention?" I asked, seizing the change.
Relief lit Brian's face immediately. "Ah, yes—the landslide uncovered an old civilization's ruins. We've barely mapped twenty percent, but already we've found ancestor species of plants and even two animal fossils trapped in amber."
His voice carried excitement, the kind that lit the air around him. Brian belonged to discoveries, to the thrill of unearthing the unknown.
"Wait, for real ancestral species of plant? That mean, the medicine industry might get a boom." I was really curious about the discovery of ancestral species. If only I could explore too.
"This new dungeon was found during your state of unconsciousness. Due to some landslides, the entrance was found."
"Sounds like being a research adventurer suits you. Dangerous, sure, but… rewarding."
He smiled warmly. "It is. Being the first to see something lost for centuries—well, nothing quite compares."
For a moment, with the sunlight falling across his face and that fond smile aimed at me, I almost forgot who I was pretending to be. Brian didn't care. Brother was brother.
The rest of the day passed quietly, until evening, when a knock came at my door.
"Mr. Dylan, you have a visitor," the nurse said.
A visitor? My chest tightened. And then she stepped inside—Sydney.
A custom-tailored lab coat trailed her in, but it wasn't the stiff, uniform kind. Sydney had rolled the sleeves neatly to her elbows, stitched an extra pocket into the side, and pinned a badge sideways just because she could. A pair of rectangular glasses rested on her nose, glinting under the light, the sharpness of her gaze softened by the lopsided smile tugging her lips.
Her hair—medium length, not long enough to be fussy but not short enough to ignore—was brushed back loosely, a few strands refusing to stay tucked, framing her face with a kind of careless energy. She wasn't delicate, not in the way some girls were. She carried herself with an easy, tomboyish confidence, as if the world had to keep up with her stride.
The bag she slung across her shoulder was worn but practical—big enough for thick research files, a notebook scribbled to the edges, and probably a lunchbox and water bottle tucked somewhere between the mess. The kind of bag that said: I don't care if it looks bulky, it works. With one water bottle pouch filled with chocolate wrappers.
"Yooo Dylan, how are you?" she greeted, her voice upbeat, filling the room with the warmth of someone who didn't need an invitation to belong.
And for some reason—maybe the way she tilted her head with that teasing grin, or the light bouncing off her glasses when she looked at me—my chest thumped once, hard. A skip. Like my heart was trying to tell me something I didn't understand.
"Hey, Syd." The word slipped out before I could stop myself. I was dumbfounded—me, calling her that so casually.
She has always known me as a stone only. Unlike Brian and Servana with whom I did had a regular conversation. She and I didn't have much conversation.
Sydney arched an eyebrow, lips quirking. "Syd? Well, that's new. Dylan finally learning nicknames? What's next—smiling without someone forcing you?" Her tone carried that playful bite, the kind that dared me to answer back.
She swung the strap of her bag off her shoulder and pulled out a neat stack of files. "Anyway, I dropped by with the project data. Thought you'd be rotting with boredom since you usually avoid talking unless it's lab-related. Here—something to keep your brain busy." She shoved the papers into my hands with mock drama, like she was doing me the biggest favour in the world.
I flipped through the files briefly, more to avoid her eyes than to read. "How's your arm doing?" she asked suddenly, her voice softening just a touch.
"It healed… mostly. Just a stump now." I said it casually, like the weight of it didn't matter.
Her brows knit together. Behind the glasses, her eyes sharpened. "The healers couldn't fix it?"
"I didn't bother. Too expensive. I'm planning on building a prosthetic instead. Then I can customize it however I need."
Sydney leaned back, hands on her hips, an incredulous grin spreading across her face. "Hah. That's so you—already turning a loss into some weird project. But… when did you get so chatty?"
I blinked. "Chatty?"
She tilted her head, strands of hair falling into her glasses as she smirked. "Yeah. You seem… lighter. Less like a walking calculator, more like…" She tapped her chin. "I don't know. An actual person. Are you sure you're Dylan?"
I froze. My chest tightened, but her smile softened the blow, making it impossible to take her too seriously.
"It feels like I'm talking to you for the very first time."
Her words left me flustered. My heart stuttered unexpectedly, a beat too quick, like it was catching up to something I didn't understand.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, trying to keep cool.
Sydney laughed, shaking her head. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. Anyway, don't forget—we still have to finish the report before finals. Try not to turn into a social butterfly before then, okay?"
"Yeah, I'll let you know when I'll be back." My voice came out a little too honest, a little too eager.
She swung her bag back over her shoulder, adjusting the strap in that casual way of hers. "Good. I'll hold you to it. Don't make me drag you back myself."
And with that, she gave a wave, glasses catching the last bit of evening light as she headed out.
"See ya soon," she called, voice bright even as the door closed behind her.
After she left, maybe I finally took a deep breath.
For a moment, the room felt a little emptier, and my heart… still wasn't beating right.
*****