Chapter 395 - 100%

Lucas bent down, his mild office calm entirely stripped away. What remained was sharp, absolute focus, as if the rest of the hospital had vanished around them.

Lyra lay face down on the bed, her cheek pressed into the pillow and her back bare beneath the overhead light. She felt his hands settle against her skin, mapping points along her spine and shoulders, but she barely registered it. Doctors had touched her back a hundred times.

Then the first needle went in.

It wasn’t the dry prick of an ordinary injection. A thin, cool current slid beneath the skin, spreading inward like liquid finding long-dormant paths. Her breath caught. She tried to push herself up on her elbows.

"What is~"

Lucas’s hand stayed light on her shoulder, not forcing her down, only keeping her still.

"Don’t move yet."

The second needle entered, followed closely by the third.

He worked along her arms next, one on the left, one on the right. Each insertion sent that strange, fluid current deeper into her body~neither burning nor tearing, merely present, moving through places that had ached for so long she had forgotten what relief felt like.

The last three followed in careful sequence.

By the time the seventh needle settled, Lyra’s strength drained away all at once. Her eyes drifted shut, the tension in her shoulders snapping as she sank into the mattress like someone finally permitted to drop a heavy load.

She didn’t dream. Her body simply went to work.

Failing tissues reset themselves. Weak circulation found steady new routes. The pressure that had nested in her chest for years eased away degree by degree while she slept.

Lucas stood beside the bed, watching the interface only he could see.

15%

16%

The numbers climbed in total silence. He didn’t leave, nor did he check his phone, keeping his eyes fixed on the slow crawl of the recovery bar and the steadying rhythm of her breath.

Thirty minutes passed.

Only when the display hit 100% did he step back and lower his hands.

Lyra’s eyes flickered open.

For a second, she simply stared at the pillow before noticing the sudden, quiet stillness inside her own body. The grinding pain beneath her ribs was gone. The heavy, leaden weakness in her limbs had vanished. The morning dizziness that usually waited behind her eyes was entirely absent.

She pushed herself up slowly, sat, and touched her arms, her chest, the side of her neck as if needing physical proof under her fingers.

Then she stood.

Her legs held.

A sound broke out of her~half laugh, half cry~raw with disbelief.

"I~"

She couldn’t finish it. Joy ripped the rest of the sentence away in a bright, sharp sob.

The door slammed open.

Paul burst in, his face tight with anticipated dread. Lyra turned instantly, throwing her arms around him before he could speak.

"I’m not in pain," she whispered against his shoulder, her voice shaking violently. "Paul. I’m not in pain anymore."

Paul held her, utterly blank with confusion, his gaze darting from her face to the bed, then to Lucas, and back again.

"What are you talking about? You just~" He glanced at the clock, then at the still-warm indentation of the mattress. "How long was I outside? How can you be~"

"He healed me." Lyra pulled back just enough to look at her brother, her eyes wet and bright. "President Lucas. He’s a miracle. I can feel it. Everything that was wrong is quiet."

Paul stared at Lucas.

Years of grinding desperation rose behind his eyes at once: every late night, every crushing bill, every calculation of how many more months he could keep her stable instead of cured. Even as a director at Switch, he barely kept five hundred dollars to his name; the security guards at the gate carried more cash than he held in reserve because every spare cent vanished into her medical care. He had never been chasing a full recovery. He had only been buying time.

And this man had fixed it in half an hour.

Paul’s face crumpled.

He crossed the room and dropped to his knees, his arms locking around Lucas’s legs and his forehead pressing against him as the sob he had swallowed for years finally broke free.

"Thank you," he choked out. "Thank you. Thank you~"

Lyra stood behind him, watching her brother unravel with relief, finally understanding what her illness had truly cost him. Walking unaided, standing without fear~those had been her private dreams. For Paul, they had been a crushing daily weight.

Lucas reached down, trying to lift him.

"Stand up. It’s not that big a deal."

Paul only held on tighter for another second before forcing himself upright, his eyes red and his voice still broken.

[Lyra’s Favorability +5]

[Lyra’s Favorability +5]

[Current Favorability: 40]

Before Lucas could say another word, Lyra stepped in and wrapped her arms around him.

The hug was long and completely unguarded. Her top was already gone from the treatment. All she had on above the waist was her bra. The soft, heavy weight of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest through the thin fabric, warm and full as she pulled herself tighter. He could feel every curve of them clearly ~ the way they yielded against him, the heat of her skin, the slight shift of soft flesh when she held on harder.

Her face stayed buried against his shoulder. Soft breath brushed his neck. Her arms locked around his back like she had no intention of letting go until the gratitude ran out.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Lucas stood completely still and let her hold him.

That was when the door swung open again.

The doctor who had treated Lyra for years strode into the room with a chart tucked under one arm, already speaking before he fully registered the scene.

"I came as soon as I~"

He stopped dead.

Paul’s tear-streaked face. The empty bed. The metal tray with seven thin needles still laid out in a neat row.

And Lyra.

Standing on her own two feet. Color in her cheeks that had not been there that morning. Arms wrapped tightly around another man ~ and nothing covering her upper body except a bra. Soft bare skin.