“Where is this...?”
When Greg slowly peeled open his heavy eyelids, the first thing he saw was not the dimly luminescent moss on the dungeon walls, nor the dark gray canvas ceiling of a camp tent, but beams of sunlight carrying the characteristic warmth of early morning.
They pierced through clean glass windows, forming clearly visible pillars of light in the air. Countless specks of dust suspended quietly within these columns, which eventually slanted across the pristine white bedsheets, leaving behind bright, warm patches of light.
The scene was so ordinary, so mundane—a sight one might see any morning.
But at this moment, it brought a sense of long-lost, almost alien freshness to Greg's eyes.
He froze for several seconds, his muddled brain sluggishly processing this information.
“Crap!”
Like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, a sudden jolt instantly dispelled the lingering drowsiness and weakness. Greg bolted upright in bed, the movement so sudden it tugged at several aching injuries, causing him to hiss through his teeth.
“To be able to see such clear morning light... there’s no way I’m in the dungeon! Where on earth am I?!”
He quickly scanned his surroundings, his mind racing with uncertainty.
The room was small, with monotonous white walls.
The air was filled with a faint scent of disinfectant.
Beneath him was a slightly firm white hospital bed, covered by a thin white quilt that felt a bit stiff from laundering.
A metal stand stood nearby, holding a half-empty bag of transparent liquid, with a slender tube connected to an indwelling needle on the back of his hand.
Simple wooden chairs and a table sat in the corner, with an empty water cup on the table.
“Is this a hospital?”
Fragments of memory began to flow back.
The fierce battle at the abandoned cabin, the hooded Demon, the evolved Shadow power, the agony of devouring the Outer God's power, Silvia’s embrace, the abrupt female voice at the end... and then, darkness.
“It seems some nuisances really don't die easily. To think you'd wake up on your own after being out for a day and a night.”
A familiar voice drifted from the other side of the room.
Greg whipped his head around toward the sound.
It was Victoria.
She was standing by another bed near the window, briskly folding several changes of clothes and stuffing them into a somewhat worn canvas backpack.
She had already changed out of her hospital gown and was wearing the recently issued academy uniform. Her right arm was still suspended in a sling against her chest, but her complexion looked much better than during his last visit—at least the color had returned to her face.
Yet, for some reason, she exuded an inexplicable air of exhaustion.
She gave Greg a brief glance with her gray-blue eyes before returning her focus to her packing.
On the bed where she had previously been lying, a pink-haired figure was curled up, breathing steadily and clearly deep in sleep.
It was Silvia.
She seemed utterly exhausted. Even in sleep, her brow was slightly furrowed, her long pink eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath her eyelids, and traces of dried tears still marked her cheeks.
“I... I was unconscious here for a day and a night?!”
Greg repeated in shock, his voice raspy from thirst.
He instinctively checked his chest and arms, confirming that aside from several bandaged scrapes and sprains, and a sense of weakness from his nearly depleted mana, he didn't seem to have any more serious injuries.
“During that time... did nothing happen?”
He couldn't help but press for details, feeling an inexplicable sense of dread. Especially considering his abysmal -10 Luck stat, being unconscious on the surface for so long was a terrifying thought...
Victoria stopped folding clothes, looked up, and gave him a strange look.
“How did you know... that things weren't exactly peaceful here yesterday?”
She seemed to recall something; her gray eyes instantly lost focus, turning hollow. Her tone became ethereal, as if she were recounting an unbearable nightmare.
“For instance, the metal IV stand at your bedside. About three hours after you passed out, it snapped cleanly at the welding points without any warning. The heavy stand, along with the medicine bottles and monitoring equipment, came crashing down toward your head. I had to lung over and block it with my back and my uninjured arm. I’m pretty sure there’s a massive bruise on my back right now.”
“Or take last night, when the nurse brought dinner. One of the wheels on the cart suddenly fell off, and the whole thing flipped toward your bed. Hot soup and utensils came flying at you... I had to use wind magic to blow them away, which ended up tearing my wound. The pain kept me awake half the night.”
“And then, early this morning, a jet-black cat with dark red eyes and a very eerie aura crawled in from who-knows-where. I got bitten quite hard trying to chase it away, so I had to go get a preventative shot in the middle of the night.”
With each incident she listed, her voice grew more numb and her gaze more vacant. Finally, as if she had exhausted all her strength, she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her temples.
“In short... various small accidents almost never stopped. I am now absolutely, positively certain that I do not want to spend even one more night in this room.”
Victoria’s gaze refocused on Greg, filled with a resolve born of survival and a trace of lingering fear.
“Otherwise, I have no doubt that I would soon become a long-term patient again due to some inconceivable accident.”
Greg: “...”
He listened, dumbfounded, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.
Except for the third event, where he knew exactly who the culprit was, the other two sounded like a budget version of Final Destination!
He didn't even have to guess—it was 100% his damn negative Luck stat continuing to work its magic while he was unconscious!
And Victoria... she had actually used her own injured body and stubborn will to tank all those accidents, preventing him from kicking the bucket while he was out...
A strong wave of guilt and lingering fear washed over him.
He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, and finally managed to squeeze out a dry sentence.
“Uh... well... thanks for the hard work.”
Victoria shook her head, seemingly unwilling to accept the gratitude, or perhaps finding it meaningless.
“There's no need to thank me. It’s not like it was your fault that those things happened.”
Her tone returned to its usual flatness as she resumed packing, stuffing the last few trinkets into her bag.
Greg gave a sheepish smile, not daring to respond.
Not his fault?
It was entirely because of him!
This gray-haired Hero had truly suffered an unwarranted disaster on his behalf, and while she was still recovering from heavy injuries no less... This was a massive debt he now owed her.
Rate on N.U.
