Chapter 56: Visiting Hours

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Visiting Hours

Jared lay still for a long time after that, staring at the ceiling tiles.

He wasn’t going to do it. He knew that much with a certainty that surprised him. Whatever it took to level up, whatever shortcut the world offered beyond his abnormal start, he wasn’t going to hold a creature at the edge of death, drag it back with a potion, and do it again until it broke. He didn’t have the stomach for it. The very thought made his throat close.

The system waited. It had been quiet for nearly a minute.

[Here’s a question for you,]

’I don’t want any more questions.’

[It’s a simple one.]

’No.’

[What if you had chosen lesser draws?]

Jared closed his eyes.

[Say you hadn’t pulled 10 SSS rank beasts. Say the draw had given you a C, a D, an E. A handful of weak, ordinary gems. What then?]

"What then?" Jared asked, out loud.

[Would you not do what’s needed to level up?]

"I’ve got no answer for you," Jared said slowly. "And thankfully, I never will."

[Oh?]

"I did take 10 SSS rank beasts. That’s the reality. That’s the one I live in." He opened his eyes. "I don’t have to answer your hypothetical."

[That’s very convenient.]

"It’s very lucky. I’m lucky. "

[It’s both.]

"Then it’s both."

Jared turned his head to the side.

A little bell was clipped to the rail of his bed, with a card taped beside it that read RING FOR ASSISTANCE. He stared at it for a moment, then rang it. A few minutes later, the curtain rustled and the tired, graying doctor poked his head in.

"Yes?"

"Does this place not close?" Jared asked. "Like, ever? Is there a time when they kick people out?"

The doctor blinked. It wasn’t even a serious question.

"It’s an infirmary," he said. "Not a restaurant."

"Right. But I mean, do I have to leave at night? Is there a limit on how long I can stay? Does the guild charge by the day?"

Again Jared was used to capitalism from his old world.

"Ah." The doctor stepped fully inside and adjusted his glasses. "You’re worried about the cost."

"A little."

"Don’t be." He tucked his clipboard under his arm. "The guild has the resources to take care of its own. You’re a member. That’s covered. As long as you need a bed, you’ll have one. Meals, medicine, monitoring, all of it."

"Okay."

"You’ll be fine."

"Thanks," he said.

The doctor smiled, patted the foot of the bed, and left.

[That was kind,]

* * *

The infirmary quieted down with time.

Jared lay propped on two pillows, spooning broth into his mouth with a hand that still wouldn’t stop trembling.

Footsteps approached. A rustle. A thump. Then the curtain slid aside, and Zoey stepped in.

She was carrying a bag.

It was a big canvas duffel, slung over one shoulder, stuffed so full the zipper barely closed. A pillow was crammed under her arm. A rolled up blanket was tucked under the other. A toothbrush stuck out of her jacket pocket like a flag. She was wearing her favorite pajama pants, the ones with the little gray bears, and she looked entirely, fully, determinedly prepared.

She dropped the bag at the foot of his bed with a thud.

"Hi," she said.

Jared stared.

"I brought snacks," she said. "And a blanket. And my phone charger. I figured we could watch something."

He put down the spoon.

"Oh, no," he said.

"What?"

"No. No, no."

"What do you mean, no?"

"Get out."

Zoey’s face went still.

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out." Jared waved a weak hand at the duffel. "Take the bag. Take the pillow. Go home."

"Jared." Her voice dropped. "I thought we were over this already."

"It’s not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It’s not that." He rubbed his forehead. His head was beginning to throb again. "I can’t have you stay here. You’ve got missions tomorrow."

"I know I have missions tomorrow."

"You need sleep. Real sleep. In a real bed. Not in a plastic chair next to a heart monitor."

"I was going to sleep on the floor."

"That’s worse!"

She crossed her arms and s. "I wanted to be here."

"You’ve seen me," Jared said. His voice was rough, almost a growl. "And that’s fine. You’ve done your job. I’m alive. I’m in one piece. I don’t think you should stress yourself here. Just get out of here."

The words came out harder than he meant. He saw her flinch.

Inside, something very different was happening.

’Please go home. Please don’t sit up all night worrying about me. Please eat something and sleep.’

He didn’t say any of that.

"Are you sure?" Zoey asked, very quietly.

"I’m positive."

"Really?"

"Zoey," Jared said.

He said it softly, just her name, without any of the bite. She searched his face for a long moment, her eyes bright and unsure.

Then she let out a long breath and uncrossed her arms.

"Okay," she said.

She bent, scooped up the duffel, and hoisted it onto her shoulder. She tucked the pillow back under her arm. She paused at the curtain.

"I’ll come see you before my mission tomorrow," she said. "Before I go. Before anything."

He nodded.

"I’ll be expecting you then," he said.

She gave him a small, crooked smile. Then she slipped out, and the curtain swayed shut behind her.

[Wow,]

’What?’

[Harsh.]

’I know.’

[She came with a bear patterned bag and a pillow.]

’ Among other things. I know!’

[And you threw her out.]

’It was for her own good.’

[That’s what everyone says.]

He turned his face into the pillow and didn’t answer.

* * *

True to her word, she was back the next morning.

It was barely 7. Jared had only just woken when the curtain rattled and Zoey stepped in, balancing a covered bowl in both hands.

"Oats," she announced.

"What?"

"I made oats. With honey, cinnamon. And a banana." She set the bowl on his tray with a flourish and whipped off the lid. A cloud of warm steam rose between them. "You’re going to eat all of it."

"I can feed myself."

"I’m guessing right now, you can’t even hold a spoon."

"I can."

"Show me."

He reached for the spoon. It trembled in his fingers, clattered against the bowl, and slid onto the blanket.

Zoey raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Jared muttered.

She sat on the edge of the bed and fed him.

It was humiliating. It was also, he had to admit, surprisingly nice. The oats were creamy and sweet. The honey was thick and golden. Zoey held the spoon steady, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration, narrating each bite like a documentary host.

"And here comes the airplane," she said, swooping the spoon through the air. "Brrrrrr. Open the hangar."

"I’m not a toddler."

"Open the hangar."

"I won’t."

[Hehe]

’argh’

"Then the airplane will crash."

He opened his mouth. She popped the spoon in. They both started to laugh, and Jared nearly choked, and Zoey had to pound him on the back, and for the next 20 minutes they were two teenagers messing around in a hospital bed, forgetting everything else.

[It’s like watching a sitcom,]

’Shut up.’

They talked about everything that happened over the past day. Zoey told him about her first day with Team B, about the guild’s endless hallways and a boy who got lost looking for the bathroom and was found 3 hours later in a supply closet.

"They found him asleep in a mop bucket," she said, giggling.

"No."

"Yes."

"That’s not possible."

"I swear."

Then, somewhere between the second and third spoonful, the tone began to shift.

"And Julius says," Zoey said.

Jared stopped chewing.

"Julius says the key to a good team is trust. And he’s right, you know? He’s a natural leader. He listens to everybody. He makes everyone feel like they matter. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just sort of..." She waved the spoon in a vague, glowing arc. "....Knows what to say."

Jared said nothing.

He kept his face still. He looked at the bowl. He chewed, slowly, mechanically, and swallowed.

Zoey noticed.

Of course she did.

And she saw it now, the tightening of his jaw, the way his hand curled on the blanket, the faint stiffness in his shoulders. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

’Oh no.’

’He’s uncomfortable. He’s really uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have brought up Julius. Why did I bring up Julius?’

She swallowed.

’Change the topic. Change it. Say something about the erm, the weather.’

"Anyway," she said, a little too brightly. "It’s really nice outside today. Did you see the window? The sky’s clear."

"I did."

"And the oats. They turned out well, right? I didn’t burn them."

"They’re good. Please you don’t burn food. You’re not Mark. "

"Great. That’s great. I was worried about the cinnamon."

A silence fell for a bit and then.

"I’ve got a question about Julius," he said.

Zoey froze.

The spoon hovered midway to his mouth.

"You sure?" she said. "I thought you... I mean..." She stammered, cheeks pinkening. "You really want to know something about Julius?"

’Not really,’ Jared thought.

It was the truth. He didn’t. He’d have been happy never to hear that name again.

"I do," he said.

"Okay."

"I need to know if he has an owl beast."

Zoey blinked.

It wasn’t the question she’d expected. It was so specific, so odd, so out of nowhere. She lowered the spoon slowly.

"He does," she said.

"He does?"

"Yeah. He’s got one. A big one. I’ve seen it."

"Do you have an idea of its abilities?"

"Well." She chewed her lip. "I’m not sure. It seems..."

The curtain flew open.

A boy stood in the gap, panting, his hair sticking up, his Team B jacket half zipped. He had a bandage on his cheek and a look of urgent apology.

"Zoey!" he gasped. "There you are. Julius called for us. Right now. The whole team."

Zoey jumped up so fast the bowl nearly tipped.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"I’ll be there in a second."

She turned back to Jared, flustered, one hand already reaching for her jacket.

"I have to go," she said. "I’m sorry. I’ll finish this. I’ll talk to you later. Eat the rest of your oats. Don’t skip. I mean it."

"Go," Jared said.

She gave him one last, quick smile and was gone, the curtain swinging behind her.

The infirmary fell silent.

Jared sat very still, staring at the empty doorway.

’An owl.’

Julius had an owl. That much was confirmed. A big one. Zoey had seen it. So what did that mean?

He turned it over and over.

Before he could get anywhere, footsteps sounded in the corridor.

They were slow and even, unhurried. They stopped outside the curtain.

Jared glanced up.

’Zoey,’ he thought. ’She forgot something.’

The curtain slid back.

It wasn’t Zoey.

Karl stood in the opening, hands in his coat pockets, the same lopsided grin on his face. A faint bruise shadowed one cheekbone. He looked tired. He looked, strangely, like he’d been waiting a long time to say something.

Jared blinked, startled.

"Let me guess," Karl said. "You were expecting someone else."