Chapter 71: something about us

“Sia…?”

How many hours had I been awake with my eyes closed? My consciousness rose from the depths of my slumber, accompanied by a faint voice that sounded as if it would disappear at any moment.

My head was throbbing with exhaustion, but I forced myself to lift my head, which I had been holding down.

Then I saw a young face. It was a face I had become familiar with, having spent almost all my time in that hospital room, and it was staring at me with a blank expression.

A face I saw every day, but now looking a little paler.

The chubby cheeks of a child were covered in white bandages. And on top of that, a red spot like a fever blister.

The back of her hand, which had been resting comfortably, was also tightly wrapped in bandages.

The horrific sight of the girl with a severe injury replayed in my mind, leaving me uneasy. In the end, I spoke first.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well… Sia is my sister.”

I had intended to ask if she was okay, but what came out of my mouth was a blunt response.

Glaring at her through the strands of hair hanging over her forehead, I clenched my fists tightly.

“Why did you do such a stupid thing?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Why… Why…”

Like a little child, I screamed and screamed, pulling at my hair in frustration. I couldn’t understand.

Even though she was my only sister in the world, I had treated her like a piece of trash all this time. Why did she risk her own life to save me?

I kept pondering that question over and over again during the few days she was lying in the hospital bed.

But even now, with her eyes open, I still couldn’t make sense of it, leaving my mind in disarray and my hair in a mess.

She said she liked me this way, but I haven’t done anything for her. Why? Why?

The more I thought about it, the more angry I became. If it had been me who was hit by the car, if it hadn’t been you, I could have returned to the arms of my real family. At the very least, I could have escaped this miserable world.

After all, it was I who jumped into the road to die. It was my choice, and no one else’s.

I know it was a futile hope, but in an attempt to vent my irrational anger, I raised my hand. I wanted to slap that innocent face.

But before the frustration, worry, fear, anxiety, or anger—sadness came first, and I slowly lowered my raised hand.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

At that moment, there was nothing else I could say.

…Somehow, it felt like looking at a faded video of the past. I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids.

“Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

For some reason, when our eyes met, she was startled and quickly hid the syringe behind her back.

“Are you awake? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing…”

“Well, you were sleeping so soundly, I thought I’d give you some experimental medication and monitor your progress.”

“What did you say?”

“Ah, nothing at all!!”

“…Ugh, it’s noisy.”

“I’m sorry!! I usually deal with elderly patients who have hearing difficulties!!

Ah! By ‘deal with,’ I mean simple medical treatment, not anything else!!”

I’m already dizzy, and listening to that loud voice is making my head feel like it’s going to explode.

I brush the hair hanging in front of my eyes back and look around. The thin non-woven fabric bed covering my body, the IV nearby, the white tiles and wallpaper—it’s the typical hospital room scene.

I casually raise my arm and see a clean hand with no scars.

I lift the blanket and check my legs, but they are also clean and unharmed. It’s too miraculous to be true, considering the height from which I fell.

“How am I still alive?”

“Luckily, I landed on the garden, so there are no major injuries! There is a puncture wound from a tree branch on my thigh, but it will heal quickly!” For the sake of your worried family, you must never attempt suicide again!!”

“I understand, so please speak quietly…”

“…Ah, yes, since you seem to be okay, I’ll leave now.”

After sending off the doctor, whose voice had grown as quiet as a ghost, I lay down again on the hospital’s thin mattress.

·Puhah”

Lying still with only my eyes blinking, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

What on earth was I trying to do in the middle of the night? I muttered to myself in self-deprecation.

Then, contrary to my expectations, I clenched and unclenched my hands for no reason, and muttered again in self-deprecation. What a fool, unable to even commit suicide properly.

I lowered my arms. I felt my soft thighs, found the part wrapped in bandages, and pressed down gently.

“Ah…”

A sharp neuralgia rises from my thigh, and a moan escapes from my sense of emptiness. The white bandage gradually turns red.

Unlike when I shot myself in the head with a gun in that ridiculous dream, the pain feels vividly real.

I search for the pierced hole and shove my finger into it. Naturally, the intensity of the pain grows. With no tears left to cry, I just laugh hollowly.

A slight fever mixed with coldness. The more I dig, the clearer my vision becomes.

At the same time, I realize one thing: whether this is a dream or not, I cannot wake up.

Yes, I still can’t determine whether this is a dream or reality.

Perhaps I died before even feeling the pain and returned to this world, or maybe I’m still in the extension of that damn dream.

But whatever it is, it’s clear that I can’t escape the scene before my eyes.

Then it can only be called reality. Even if I could escape from it, what awaits at the end would be either pitch-black darkness or an even deeper abyss. No matter how absurd it is, a younger sister playing with a pet dog? It’s not even funny.

“Huff…”

It’s an obvious truth. But as I think about it, I remember the cigarette I smoked in Isaka’s bed.

I wonder if there’s even one left, so I search the shelf next to the bed, but there’s no way the hospital would have something like that.

Instead, I grab an apple from a fruit basket sent by someone unknown. At that moment, the ward door bursts open.

“…!”

“…Sister.”

With her long hair flying wildly, a small doll rushes into the hospital room. She looks around frantically, then sees me awake and her pupils dilate.

She seems to want to say something, but her unfinished sentence shatters into pieces in the air, and I call her softly.

“Why… why did you do that?”

“Why did you do that…!”

She stops in her tracks and stands at a distance, glaring at me sadly. She glares at me as if resenting my inability to speak, but her big eyes are already filled with tears.

A hollow threat. I know it, and I’m sure she knows it too.

But I know that the emotion contained within it is not an illusion or a lie, but the truth, so I tear apart my

It was a hollow threat. I knew it, and she probably knew it too.

But I knew that the emotions behind it were real, not an illusion, and it tore my

indifferent heart to pieces. I wanted to tear apart the hand that had strangled her slender neck.

“If this world were a game, would you believe it?”

“What?”

But that’s not really possible. After all, they’re just empty expressions.

Lost in the afterglow of futility, I asked a somewhat random question, and my sister’s expression changed as if she were taken aback.

“…It’s just, sometimes you feel that way. When dawn comes, you become overly emotional and start to wonder if this world is fake.”

“…”

“So…even a normal person can lose their mind sometimes.”

“Now, for such a trivial reason…”

My sister’s voice grew harsh as I rambling like a criminal standing before a judge. She then approached me with purposeful steps, and her small, delicate hands—hardly believable for a high school student—suddenly raised.

Those small, fragile hands blocked the ceiling light.

She must be angry. Of course she would be angry. To me, it’s not just a trivial reason, but to my sister, it must seem like a trivial reason.

I close my eyes tightly, preparing for the impact. I thought I deserved to be hit a few times.

I deserved it. It was caused by a momentary lapse of reason, but at that time, I wasn’t dependent on drugs or alcohol.

So I thought I deserved to be hit until my face was swollen. I’m trash anyway. I thought that if it made my sister feel better, that would be enough.

However, even after waiting and waiting in the pitch-black darkness, the shock never came.

When I slowly opened my eyes, I saw my sister’s face, which looked like she was about to cry but wasn’t.

The next moment, my sister said in a subdued voice,

“…It’s okay. Just say this one thing.”

Promise me you won’t do that again.

“…Okay.”

“…Yes.”

Her eyes flickered faintly, and her voice faded weakly. She didn’t beg with both hands or kneel down, but it was a desperate

request.

All I could do in front of her was nod my head up and down.