Anyone with eyes could see how deeply Lucian loved Medeia. It didn’t make sense for him to give up—not when she was still here, not when he had sworn to protect her. He wouldn’t just leave her alone in this cruel world.
Medeia felt her legs weaken, her heart tightening at the thought. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to believe. "He won’t leave me," she whispered. "He’ll be fine."
Joy offered a small nod. "I’ll give him some medicine for the fever and cough. It won’t work instantly, but it should help without risking a relapse."
"Just do whatever you need to," she murmured. "I just want him to be okay."
Once Joy handed her the medicine and left, Medeia carefully helped Lucian drink it. Then, she changed his clothes into something more comfortable to sleep in.
She wrung out a warm towel, gently placing it on his forehead, her fingers lingering just a second longer against his skin.
"Medeia?" His voice was weak. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with fever.
"I’m right here," she said softly, brushing his damp hair back.
Medeia gently caressed his cheek. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere." She stroked his hand, her voice soft and reassuring. "Do you need anything?"
Lucian weakly shook his head. "I just want you to stay. That’s all."
Medeia stayed by his side the entire day, unable to sleep. Lucian couldn’t rest peacefully—his sleep was restless, plagued by night terrors.
Every so often, he would reach out for something, his fingers grasping at the empty air, mumbling words like, "Don’t go ..." or "I hate being alone ..."
Medeia didn’t fully understand what he meant, but she had a feeling he was talking about his past—his family, perhaps.
Or maybe it was something she didn’t know, something he had forgotten.
But whatever it was, it had caused him so much pain.
"Lucian, you’re not alone." Medeia rested her head beside him, her fingers tracing soothing circles on his chest. Her voice was soft as she spoke, "You don’t have to carry everything by yourself anymore."
She wasn’t sure if he could hear her, but every time she spoke, his tense muscles seemed to relax, his erratic breaths slowing ever so slightly.
So, from morning until night, she whispered to him, over and over, a quiet promise that she wouldn’t leave.
She had no expectations, but eventually, her efforts bore fruit. His temperature had dropped, and his breathing sounded more stable than before.
Then, in the middle of the night, after sleeping for an entire day, Lucian’s eyes fluttered. He took a deep breath before he opened his eyelids.
He turned his head toward her, his gaze hazy, unfocused, but undeniably searching for her.
"Medeia?" His voice was rough, rasping with exhaustion.
Medeia was half-asleep, unsure if Lucian was really awake or just talking in his sleep. But even half-conscious, she still responded to his voice. "I’m here."
She patted his chest lightly, almost as if she had no strength left in her. And truthfully, she didn’t.
She hadn’t had a single moment to rest—not since she was trapped in the panther’s hallucination, and certainly not since she had been taking care of both of them while Lucian was sick.
Now, even keeping her eyes open felt like an impossible task.
Lucian didn’t need to ask, he could tell how much she had sacrificed for him.
"I’m okay now," he murmured, shifting from lying on his back to facing her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His voice was gentle. "I’m fine ... so please, get some sleep."
Medeia only responded with a soft murmur. Whether she actually heard his words or not, she fell asleep the moment Lucian told her to rest.
He gently ran his hand along her back, his fingers tracing the spot where her wings emerged.
If only he hadn’t fallen sick, Medeia wouldn’t have been this exhausted.
What frustrated him the most was that he didn’t even understand why he had gotten sick in the first place.
Joy had said it was psychological, but Lucian couldn’t recall anything that might have pushed him to such a state, anything that could have made him this stressed or drained.
His dreams had been strange, too. They overlapped with flashes of memories, events he forgot the moment he woke up. And yet, despite not remembering, the ache in his chest lingered, as if his body refused to let go of whatever pain he had felt.
He sighed. He couldn’t let this continue.
If he fell sick again, he wouldn’t be able to take care of Medeia.
So he made a silent decision. He would forget and bury whatever emotions he had felt in those hallucinations and dreams.
After all, if he couldn’t even remember them, what was the point of dwelling on them?
By the time noon approached, Medeia finally woke up. Her head ached slightly from oversleeping, but at least her body no longer felt exhausted.
She turned to the side, only to find Lucian was no longer in bed.
Letting out a tired sigh, she muttered, "He’s feeling better and already up to something, isn’t he?"
[Lucian is currently training his students outside, Host.]
"What? Is he seriously a workaholic?" Medeia groaned. "He only rested for one day, and now he’s already back to his usual routine?"
"Next time, remind me to tie him to the bed so he won’t run away."
[Are you referring to a fetish, Host?]
Medeia was taken aback by the system’s response. "What the heck are you thinking? I said that innocently! If this is a fetish, then I’ll be the one tied to the bed!"
She choked on her own saliva, realizing she had just revealed her kink to the system. "Just forget about that! You haven’t even calculated my points from yesterday. Is your machine brain getting slow or what?"
[The system didn’t want to disturb you, Host.]
[But don’t worry, the system will calculate your points now!]
[And for your information, one of our sponsors has given you a special gift!]