CHAPTER 251: CHAPTER 251

They stopped in front of a door marked V.I.P. - Cypher Knoxx.

"The other person we found lying next to him is just in the next room," Tom added, gesturing down the hall.

"Thank you. You may go now," Whitney said dismissively, her focus already shifting.

"Yes Miss Owen," Tom nodded and retreated, leaving them alone in the hushed corridor.

Just as Whitney reached out to open the door, Angela moved swiftly and pushed it open ahead of her, her urgency fueled by a mix of fear and unresolved emotions. Cypher Knoxx lay in the bed, unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Angela was crying as she sat next to Cypher, her hands trembling as she grasped his. "What were you even doing there?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

Whitney closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She approached the bed, her gaze fixed on Cypher’s battered form. "You know, she still would have been fine if you didn’t protect her."

"Huh? What are you saying?" Angela turned to look at her, confusion etching her tear-streaked face.

But before Whitney could elaborate, Cypher’s eyes fluttered open, staring blankly at the ceiling for a moment as if awakening from a nightmare.

"He’s awake," Whitney said, deflecting the question with practiced composure, her expression unreadable.

Angela quickly looked back at Cypher, fresh tears forming around her eyes. "Cypher!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her voice as she leaned closer, her hand squeezing his.

Cypher, who had been staring blankly at the hospital ceiling after waking, suddenly shot up, his eyes wild as he looked around the room. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice hoarse and urgent. He even tried standing up, but pain immediately shot through his body, forcing him to fall back onto the bed with a groan.

"Cypher, it’s okay," Angela said, rushing to his side and gently pushing him down, trying to calm him. Her hands trembled on his shoulders, a mix of relief and worry in her eyes.

"Remi... Have you seen Remi? Where is she? Is she safe?" Cypher continued to mumble, his gaze darting frantically, as if expecting danger to burst through the door at any moment.

"Why are you looking for her?" Angela couldn’t help but sound frustrated, her patience fraying as Cypher still tried to shift despite the pain.

Whitney shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. Everyone could see that he’s smitten by Remillia and she can’t help but see herself in Angela.

"Cypher," Whitney said firmly, stepping closer to the bed. "She’s fine. She’s just sleeping next door. She’s also in a much better condition than you."

"Really?" Cypher said, his voice a mix of doubt and hope, his eyes locking onto Whitney’s.

"Yes," Whitney replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With that, Cypher finally relaxed, his body sinking into the pillows as the tension drained from him. But moments later, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted again, slipping into unconsciousness.

Angela screamed in shock, her hands flying to her mouth. "Is he okay?! Call the doctor—"

"Don’t worry, he’ll be fine," Whitney said calmly, placing a reassuring hand on Angela’s shoulder. "He must have fainted because of overexerting his body. His mana core needs time to work without him fighting them."

"He’ll be fine then?" Angela asked, her voice shaky as she smoothed Cypher’s hair back from his forehead, her composure cracking under the strain.

"Yeah," Whitney assured her. "Shall we go visit Remillia next?"

Angela shook her head, glancing at Cypher with lingering concern. "I’ll stay here for a bit before going to check on her. Just... to make sure he’s really okay."

"Okay then," Whitney said, her expression softening slightly before she quietly left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Whitney stepped into the next room, her footsteps soft on the polished floor. She saw Remillia lying on the bed, her form still and composed under the sterile sheets. As she got closer, she couldn’t help but be confused. The doctor had clearly said Remillia had only light burns from the incident, but there was no visible sign of injury—no redness, no bandages.

When she finally stopped at Remillia’s side, she noticed a thin layer of mana surrounding her, shimmering faintly like an invisible shield. That’s probably why she could heal quickly. As expected of her—a war freak, Gift user whose control over magic was legendary. Seeing that there was no more problem, Whitney was about to leave, her curiosity sated for the moment.

But as she turned, her sight grazed something glowing on Remillia’s sternum, a subtle golden luminescence pulsing beneath her hospital gown.

"...What’s... this...?" Whitney murmured softly, her voice barely audible. She reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering near Remillia’s collar. But when her fingers were about to touch the fabric, her instincts roared—a primal warning to stop, to step back, to not go forward any further.

"This—" Despite the alarm bells, her hand still moved, unbuttoning Remillia’s shirt with deliberate care. Regret only came later, flooding her as the fabric parted. Half of the tattoo was still covered, but she didn’t need to see the whole thing. The tattoo design of a dagger, that seemed to writhe like living ink, was unmistakable.

It was exactly like the picture her uncle had sent to her.

She unconsciously moved away from Remillia, her steps faltering as if the ground itself had shifted beneath her. Almost as though she had lost her speech, she couldn’t find the words to speak. She couldn’t think. She only knew that her head hurt—a sharp, throbbing pain that made her temples pulse. Her train of thought seemed to be cutting off, like it was attempting to protect her from stress she couldn’t handle. Her brain seemed to have stopped functioning. As a result, the only thing she could do was breathe, shallow and ragged, fighting against the invisible weight crushing her chest.

She stared at the ground blankly, her vision blurring as her heels spun in dizzying circles before her eyes. A mysterious chill strangled her, icy fingers wrapping around her throat and squeezing. She couldn’t breathe properly, each inhale a struggle against panic.

"...Haa." After barely managing to eke out a breath, she raised her head. Remillia was still lying in the hospital bed, serene and unaware. In Whitney’s eyes, however, the bed was shaking like it was experiencing an earthquake, the room warping in her distorted perception.

She bit her lips, the sharp sting grounding her amidst the chaos in her mind. No way. She must have seen it wrong. That must be it. With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone, her fingers fumbling as she unlocked it and opened the picture her uncle had sent.

A clear picture of a tattoo appeared on the screen, and it was exactly like the one drawn on Remillia’s sternum. The dagger design, matched perfectly, down to the subtle glow that seemed to pulse with energy.

’Why must it be Remillia again?’ she thought, a bitter pang twisting in her chest.

Suddenly, Remillia gasped, her body shaking as if jolted by an unseen force. In that instant, Whitney’s body shook greatly.

Remillia slowly opened her eyes, blankly staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head to the side. Just like that, their eyes met, locking in a charged silence.

"Whitney?" Remillia said, her voice soft and surprised, a hint of confusion in her gaze.

Whitney swallowed her saliva, struggling to move her stiff tongue. "He- Hell- Hello?" she stammered, the word coming out awkward and forced.

"What?" Remillia replied, blinking in bemusement.

"H-How, how has it been?" Whitney pressed on, her voice shaky but determined to maintain the facade.

"Great, I guess?" Remillia said, propping herself up slightly on the pillows, her expression shifting to mild amusement. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay?"

Remillia was looking at her, her gaze steady and probing, as if reading the turmoil beneath Whitney’s forced calm. But when Whitney glanced at the part where the tattoo had been, she was stunned to see that the glowing tattoo was gone, almost as if it wasn’t there at all. Just this fact made her incapable of maintaining her calm, a fresh wave of shock crashing over her. However, she refused to lose her mind. She told herself that this was the one time she needed to stay calm and decisive—panic would only expose her suspicions and jeopardize everything.

As though she hadn’t been breathing for a while, a gush of oxygen flowed into her brain, clearing the fog. As a result, her vision turned clear, and her discontinued thoughts came back in a rush. Calm down. Nothing is sure yet. Everything might just be a huge misunderstanding. It might be her uncle’s mistake, or someone might have tried to pin the blame on Remillia. For now, nothing is one-hundred percent certain. She couldn’t jump to conclusions; evidence was key, and rushing in could be disastrous.

"Oh right, how’s Cypher? Is he okay?" Remillia hurriedly asked, shifting the conversation, her voice laced with genuine concern that made Whitney’s doubts flicker.

"Cypher is- is fine. Angela’s with him," Whitney replied, her words stumbling slightly as she fought to keep her tone even. "Uhm, I- I’m going out for- a minute," she added quickly, turning around and leaving the room in a hurry, leaving behind Remillia who was staring at her quizzically, a puzzled frown creasing her brow.

Although Whitney was in a situation where sound judgment and logical thinking were difficult, clouded by shock and suspicion, she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t afford hesitation—not with the stakes this high.

Pulling out her phone again, her fingers steady despite the tremor in her hands, she messaged her information guild, a discreet network of operatives she maintained for just such contingencies. "Remillia Lockhart. Erase all of her patient data here in St. Benedette Hospital, Monfort."

Most hospitals took written records of their patients’ identifying characteristics. Naturally, tattoos were included in them, logged meticulously for medical and security purposes. As such, all data about Remillia gathered today had to be erased—scans, notes, images—wiped clean from the digital archives. Before Jozef or Angela found out, it had to be obliterated from existence. That strange tattoo had to be something only she knew about.