CHAPTER 71: VITALS

’Wait, so you can report on his emotional state?’

[ Yes. ]

’Then what about his physical state?’

It took Echo a few seconds to respond—long enough for Erisia’s pulse to quicken with hope.

When the system finally replied, the answer came clipped and factual: [ I can do that– ]

Erisia immediately cut in. ’Then can you examine his current state clearly? Especially what’s wrong with his legs?’

[ You didn’t let me finish earlier, Host. I can, but I’m not allowed to. There are still certain things I have been restricted from doing. I have to follow– ]

’What do you mean by that? What restrictions? We’re not in the story anymore. There’s no "plot" to follow, and nothing’s stopping you—so I don’t understand.’

[ Forgive me, Host Erisia, for my incompetence, but it has nothing to do with that. It’s because there are certain things I’ve been programmed not to do—as a higher level of technology within this world. ]

’Programmed?’ Her brows drew together. ’Didn’t you say you were created because of readers’ dissatisfaction with the original story? And now you’re telling me you were programmed to obey certain limits?’

[ Yes, Host Erisia. I was created due to the readers’ dissatisfaction, and just like I was programmed to do certain things, I was restricted from others. I apologize for not being able to carry out your command. ]

Its voice—or what passed for one—sounded almost apologetic. Almost.

Erisia felt that what was said still didn’t match up, and although she had been suspicious the first time, she didn’t want to bring it up now.

So she sighed inwardly. ’Forget it.’

She turned her attention back to the room. Seliora was speaking softly to Kealith, her tone calm and reassuring. Whatever tension had filled the air earlier seemed to have lifted slightly. Kealith was quiet now, responding to her in short, even phrases.

Erisia only caught the last part of their exchange.

"...Don’t worry. We’ll find a solution."

"Hm."

Seliora reached out, brushing a hand against her son’s shoulder before straightening. "Now, I want you to be a good guest to her. I have things to discuss with the doctor. Remember—don’t be distant."

With that, she stepped away from the bed and approached Erisia.

"I’m sorry for making you wait," she said with a weary but genuine smile. "This was all rather unexpected." Her gaze swept the room. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Erisia blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... no."

Seliora frowned lightly. "It’s already late morning and you haven’t eaten? Roy."

Roy, who had been standing quietly by the door, straightened immediately. "Ma’am?"

"Tell one of the caretakers to prepare brunch. Kealith also hasn’t eaten."

"Yes, ma’am." He nodded crisply and left the room.

Seliora turned back to Erisia. "You both can eat together. I’ll have to meet with the doctors, so I can’t join you—but before I go, let me properly introduce you two."

Erisia stood as Seliora led her toward the bed. The faint hum of medical devices filled the silence—steady beeps and the soft whoosh of air through the oxygen regulator.

"Kealith," Seliora said in a slightly scolding tone when she saw him typing on a sleek silver laptop balanced on his lap.

He looked up—slowly—and Erisia forgot how to breathe.

He was definitely handsome.

The author had described him vividly in the original novel—silver hair, amber eyes, refined features that left readers swooning—but the written version hadn’t done him justice. In person, or rather in this world’s version of "in person," he was effortlessly magnetic.

His silver hair caught the sunlight streaming through the half-drawn blinds, gleaming faintly with hints of white-gold. It fell just over his forehead, brushing the tops of his lashes. His amber eyes were sharp yet quiet, like molten glass.

And his expression—stoic, unreadable—only made him look more untouchable.

His long nose, defined jaw, and the faint curve of his mouth drew her gaze like a magnet.

Erisia wasn’t the type to gawk, but—

"Erisia? Erisia." Seliora’s voice cut through her trance, pulling her back to the present.

She blinked rapidly. "Ah—yes, sorry." Her ears felt a little warm. "I just spaced out for a moment."

Seliora chuckled softly, either not noticing or kindly pretending not to. "Kealith, this is Erisia Allen. She’s the one I told you about."

Kealith’s eyes flicked toward her. For a second, something unreadable flashed in them—curiosity? Wariness? It was hard to tell.

Then he gave a small nod. "Good morning."

His voice was lower than she expected. Smooth. Controlled. The kind of tone that carried authority, even when saying something as simple as good morning.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice softer than intended.

Seliora smiled at the exchange, clearly pleased. "I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Roy will bring your meals soon." She adjusted the sleeve of her blazer and left, her heels clicking faintly against the polished floor before the door clicked shut.

Silence settled.

Erisia turned to glance at Kealith, who had already resumed typing. The rhythmic tapping of his keys filled the space between them.

’So... this is the man the author killed,’ she thought. ’The one whose future was ruined by a plotline that made no damn sense.’

Her gaze shifted briefly to his legs under the blanket—then quickly away. The curiosity burned, but so were her feelings heavier. But what exactly was she feeling? Was it sympathy? Responsibility? Because she knew what would happen to him? She couldn’t tell which.

She sat down on the chair beside his bed. The quiet hum of the machines returned, steady and calm. The silence was a little unbearable.

’Echo,’ she thought again. ’If you can’t scan him, can you at least monitor his vitals?’

[ Yes, I can. Would you like me to begin? ]

’Yes.’

[ Understood. ]

She leaned back slightly, hands clasped in her lap, watching as Kealith’s fingers moved across the keyboard with mechanical precision. His face gave away nothing.

But the faint tension in his shoulders, the slight clench in his jaw—it told a different story.

’He was trying not to be affected by the doctor’s news.’

[ These are his vitals: ]

[ Heart rate: 92 bpm. Slightly elevated. Respiration is steady. Blood pressure within normal range. Emotional stress indicators: moderate. ]

Erisia exhaled softly. Moderate stress—that was an understatement. Anyone could see he was barely holding himself together.

’Echo,’ she thought quietly. ’I have something to ask, and I hope you answer me honestly.’

[ Please do. I will do my best to answer your question. ]

’I thought you said this was reality. That everything here follows the natural order, not the author’s plotline. So why is the same thing happening to Kealith again? Why can’t he walk—even after the surgery?’

There was a pause. Longer than usual.

[ That is... probably due to a medical issue, Host. This is the real world, and complications can occur naturally. The cause might simply be biological. ]

"Medical issue," she murmured under her breath, eyes narrowing. Sure.

’No. The doctor gave almost the exact same explanation the author glossed over in the book—word for word, Echo. That’s not a coincidence. Something’s off.’

[ There is nothing wrong. This world is not a narrative. Everything that occurs has to happen according to its natural order. ]

’Has to? Echo, it’s either something you’re not telling me, or something you don’t know yet.’

There was a faint hum, like the system hesitating.

[ Host Erisia, if I had hidden data, I would be compelled to disclose it. But... I have a theory. Perhaps the story’s foundation still shapes reality here. Because Lyra and Asher made no effort to change the course of events, Kealith’s situation continues to repeat that same path. ]

’Maybe,’ Erisia thought, lips pressing together. ’But this is the first time I’ve heard you sound uncertain. Something is wrong—and I hope you can find out what it is.’

[ ...Understood. I will attempt to analyze it further. Please give me time. ]

Erisia’s eyes softened. ’Please do.’

The room was quiet again except for the beeping monitor and the faint rustle of Kealith’s movements.

He’d stopped typing now, the laptop closed and resting on the table beside him. His posture was impeccable—even when sitting.

Seliora, the surgeons and attendants were still outside discussing something, their murmured voices just out of reach. Roy hadn’t returned yet.

Kealith leaned back, eyes closed, his expression unreadable but taut with strain and endurance.

Erisia hesitated, then moved her chair closer until she was right beside the bed.

She studied his hand—resting tensely on his lap, fingers curled so tight they almost trembled.

Before she could overthink it, her own hand reached out and covered his.

The reaction was immediate.

He flinched—startled—and his eyes flew open, amber meeting hers in an instant that stunned Erisia.

For a brief heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as quickly, his surprise faded, replaced by that composed, chilly exterior she’d seen earlier. But he didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Don’t give up," she said quietly, the words slipping out before she could second-guess them.

His brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his gaze.

She swallowed and continued, "They said your condition got worse because of ’complications.’ That your chances of walking again are now lower than before. But I don’t believe that. Not when everything was going well until the final stage. It doesn’t make sense. So..."

Her voice softened. "Don’t give up, okay?"

The silence that followed was thick. He was still looking at her, but now it was different—more searching, more emotion reflecting in his eyes.

Erisia had met plenty of people in her two lifetimes—powerful, broken, cruel, kind—but no one had ever looked at her like this. Like he was trying to see through her.

Finally, Kealith drew his hand back, stretching his fingers slowly as though grounding himself.

"Why?" he asked.

Just one word, but it hit with weight.

Erisia met his gaze without flinching. "Because I had someone once. I cared about them deeply... but I couldn’t do anything to help them. It still haunts me." At the last part, her voice wavered slightly. And I don’t want the same thing to happen again.

For a long moment, Kealith said nothing. His eyes lingered on her face, steady and unreadable. Then he looked away, exhaling through his nose.

"We’re not close, Miss Erisia," he said evenly, though his tone had lost its earlier chill. "But... Thank you. For your concern."

With that, he closed his eyes again, signaling the end of the conversation.

Erisia didn’t move, just watched him in silence. The tension in his hand still lingered in hers, a ghost of contact that refused to fade.