Chapter 17: "Sis, Please Don't Strap Me to a Hospital Bed Again"
Sunlight spilled through the windows, settling on a teenager with dark hair, fast asleep on his stomach, face buried in his pillow. The sight looked almost comical, as if he had crash-landed onto his bed mid-fall.
The peaceful moment was interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone.
Elias stirred, groaning softly as he reached around blindly. His fingers finally found the device, and he pressed the answer button without lifting his head.
"Hello?" he mumbled, his voice muffled against the pillow.
"Elias, it's me. Detective Clifford," came a deep, familiar voice.
Elias blinked, lifting his face slightly in confusion. His brows furrowed as recognition dawned.
"Oh… Officer Clifford?" he asked, still groggy.
"Yeah, it's me, kid. I know it's early, but this is important. I need you fully awake, alright?"
Clifford's voice softened with concern.
Elias's eyes sharpened. He slapped his cheek lightly with his free hand and sat up straighter in bed, now alert.
"What's going on?" he asked cautiously.
Clifford paused.
"The station was raided last night. All the reports, evidence, and logs from the day I saved you—gone. Our people couldn't stop the intruder. He disguised himself as one of us—almost perfectly. I think it was the same guy you mentioned. The one who pretended to be your father."
Elias's body stiffened.
"Listen. You need to stay sharp. They might come after you again. You remember what I told you—situational awareness. No alleys, no isolated places. Watch for tails. Be smart. Protect yourself, Elias."
Clifford's voice was firm now.
Elias swallowed and nodded, even though Clifford couldn't see it.
"Yes, Officer," he said quietly, the weight of the words settling into his chest.
---
Three hours later, it was 9 a.m. Eve stirred from her slumber. It was Saturday, so she wasn't in a rush to do anything.
She opened her bedroom door to head to the kitchen and noticed that Elias's door was wide open. He wasn't inside.
She frowned and walked toward the kitchen—only to find a pitiful excuse for pancakes sitting on a plate in front of her usual seat. She couldn't help but chuckle. Pulling out her phone, she snapped a picture and shook her head, amused.
"Hopeless," she muttered.
Elias had stubbornly refused to give up on cooking, despite having no talent for it. During the time he was injured, Eve had tried cooking for the first time—and, to Elias's horror, showed real promise. Driven by indignation and denial, he refused to believe he was that bad at it and kept trying, even though he'd shown little improvement. Losing to his twin—even in the kitchen—was unacceptable.
Still, no matter how awful the food was—and she never missed a chance to poke fun at it—Eve always ate his cooking generously and without complaint.
She glanced around but didn't see Elias.
"Where is he?" she muttered, furrowing her brows.
"He didn't leave on his own, did he?" she added, her voice tight with concern.
Her breaths quickened as she began checking the house, opening and closing doors one after another. Every room was empty.
The memory of seeing her brother in the hospital that day—bruised, bloodied, barely conscious—still haunted her. It had given her nightmares. And while she didn't know all the details, one thing was certain: not everyone involved in his attack had been caught.
She felt uneasy not seeing her brother in front of her.
"Eve, calm down. Use the one thing you're good for—your brain!" she said, clapping her hands over her cheeks to steady herself.
At the front door, Elias's usual tennis shoes—the ones he always wore when going out—were still sitting in place. She walked over to the jacket he'd worn the day before and reached into its pocket.
A ring of keys and his wallet.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
"He should still be here," she muttered, placing Elias's valuables back into his jacket pocket.
Suddenly, she heard pounding sounds coming from the backyard. Creeping over, she peeked out through the glass sliding door.
In their large backyard, she saw Elias hammering wooden posts into the ground. The rain from earlier had softened the earth, making his task easier as he drove each post in. A roll of gardening mesh fencing sat next to his foot—probably supplies from their mother's gardening shed.
"What is he doing?" she wondered aloud. "Did he decide to take up gardening after realizing he has no talent for cooking?" she mused.
Shaking her head, and now reassured that Elias was okay, she went back inside to eat her 'deluxe' breakfast meal.
---
Elias was busy building a makeshift obstacle course to mimic the alleyways he'd sprinted through while escaping Jackal. Mesh fencing would hurt less to crash into than brick walls.
He needed to learn how to handle his speed, or he'd be in serious trouble the next time someone came after him. When he placed the final post, he began wrapping the mesh around them, forming a weaving maze.
Finishing the obstacle course brought a small sense of accomplishment—but he couldn't use it yet—not while he was still recovering.
He looked over at the fighting dummy with interest. He'd stolen it from his brother's room. He hadn't tested his new martial arts skill yet, and the itch to try it had been growing. The longer he stared, the more tempted he became.
He slipped into a striking stance—only for Eve's shrill voice to ring out.
"Elias, you better not be doing what I think you're doing! You still have healing fractured ribs, moron!"
At some point, Eve had finished her breakfast and come outside to check on him—just in time to see him preparing to strike the dummy. She'd let him hammer in the posts—it hadn't taken much strength—but what he was about to do would definitely reinjure him.
"If you hurt yourself again, I will drag you to the hospital and strap you to a bed myself!" she said, hands on her hips.
Elias stiffened, slowly turning toward her with an awkward smile creeping across his face.
"Sorry, sis. I just wanted to try something and got a little carried away," he muttered, coughing in embarrassment.
She snorted and sat down in a nearby chair, clearly intending to watch him and make sure he didn't overdo it. Elias could only sigh and postpone his training plans.
He muttered, "I don't have time to rest for weeks."
A sudden thought came to him, and his system panel popped up.
---
[VIT: 9]
(VIT): Vitality
Affects the user's total HP, speed of health regeneration, and rate of recovery from physical ailments.
---
"Wounds and broken bones count as physical ailments, right?" Elias wondered aloud. Maybe he could heal faster if his Vitality stat was higher. He opened the quest screen and filtered it to show only those that rewarded Vitality stat points.
Most of them involved gardening or plant care, helping others with their health, or completing self-care tasks.
Helping others with their health didn't seem practical—he'd have to leave the house often, and there was always the risk of catching something. What was the point of gaining Vitality if he got sick in the process?
Taking care of animals was out too. He didn't know much about pets, since his mother had a mild allergy to animal fur. Eve had inherited that same allergy, so he couldn't exactly come home every day covered in pet hair.
That left gardening and self-care—both doable. His mother had been an avid gardener and often had him help with small tasks. While he wasn't as skilled as she was, he wasn't a complete beginner either. As for self-care, it just meant eating properly, doing moderate exercises, and maintaining a healthy sleep schedule. If he stayed strict with himself, it was manageable.
He walked over to the garden shed and opened his mom's walk-in fridge, which stored preserved seeds. Lucky for him, she had always been meticulous about labeling and categorizing everything. He browsed until he found two bags labeled for autumn planting: lettuce and spinach.
Elias's eyes lit up. If he took care of these every day, he might gain a point of Vitality every day or two. And if he combined that with a solid self-care routine, maybe he could even earn two points a day—plus LP.
Eve had no idea her little joke about Elias taking up gardening was about to become reality.
---
On the other side of the world, night had already fallen. Mina was gently tucking her mother and younger brother into bed. Once they had both fallen asleep, she headed downstairs to wash the bowls and utensils from dinner. Even though she was back home—where servants were available to handle such tasks—she had grown used to doing them herself over the past three years.
As she finished, she heard the front entrance of the mansion click open, followed by the soft voices of servants greeting, "Welcome back, young master."
She stuck her head out to check the entrance.
Stepping inside was a man who appeared to be in his twenties, but the way he carried himself revealed otherwise. He had a strikingly handsome face that bore a strong resemblance to Mina's.
This was Banri Takayama—Mina's estranged father, and the youngest son of Akio, her grandfather.
He loosened his tie and undid a few buttons as he stepped into the house, raking a hand through his black hair to give himself an even more casually handsome look. When he noticed Mina standing in the kitchen entrance, glowering at him, he paused.
"Oh… when did you get back?" Banri asked. His expression remained a mask of calm indifference—cold, unreadable. It was as if he were speaking to a stranger, not his daughter.
He waved a hand at the servants to leave and walked closer to Mina.
Mina's expression soured as the strong scent of women's perfume wafted from his clothes. She knew exactly where he'd been. While she had always known the kind of man her father was, it still made her blood boil.
"I've been here for over a week, Dad," she said flatly, her voice laced with restrained fury. "Have you just been staying between some girl's legs this whole time? I haven't seen you once."
Her eyes locked onto his like daggers, sharp enough to stab.
He furrowed his handsome brows in annoyance.
He sighed. "This again? You've been gone for a year and this is the first thing you say—"
"Three years! I've been gone three years! At least get that right!" she seethed. Her fists clenched tightly, and her shoulders trembled with rage.
Her father shut his mouth and stared at her in silence for a moment.
"Okay, fine. Three years. Now what is it you really want?" he asked gloomily.
He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Then he crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar just outside the kitchen. He took a sip and waited for her to speak.
"Why are you doing this? Even if you don't love Mom, couldn't you at least wait until everything was all over? You could visit all the women you want when she passes. She's so sick—why can't you at least stay home with her until it's all done?" she asked, her throat tightening.
Banri scoffed and nearly laughed. "And what would be the point?" he asked, stepping closer while bending down near her face. "You're not a child anymore, Mina. Your mother already knows this was never a true marriage."
Mina bit her lip. "But—"
"—But nothing," he interrupted. "End that fantasy of yours. I've always been an honest person. I never wanted to be a husband or father."
His eyes narrowed at her in annoyance.
"Think whatever you want. But I never lied to you. Not once."
He tapped his finger hard into her forehead. She winced.
"I didn't get to pick any of this. Your grandfather made all the choices for me before I could even talk," Banri said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He took another sip.
"That marriage? Please. It was a contract. Two families mixing bloodlines—nothing more." He sneered, eyes flickering with derision at the memory of his wedding day.
"Your mother and I both knew that. It's time you did, too."
He refocused his eyes on Mina.
"So don't come to me waving your moral flag like I broke some sacred vow," he said, dropping his finger.
Mina immediately rubbed her forehead, as if wiping off something disgusting. A flicker of cold amusement danced in Banri's eyes as he watched her.
"Heh, you hate me that much now, huh?" he asked, irritation creeping into his voice. No matter how indifferent Banri usually acted toward his kids, it was still annoying to be treated like a germ by his own daughter.
She gave him a look that seemed to ask, Isn't that obvious?
"Just know that no matter how much you hate me, that attitude of yours—your disgust for the rigid traditions of the family, your displeasure for the status quo—that's all me," he smiled at her sardonically. "You really think that comes from your meek, obedient mother? Not a chance."
He quickly drained his glass and put it down. Without another word, he turned and walked upstairs to his bedroom, leaving Mina alone in silence.