Chapter 76 — No One Deserves Mercy

  No. 112 · Azure Radiance Street — 10:50 a.m.

  When YiChen stepped out of the bathroom,

  Bernard was already waiting in the corridor.

  “The doctor has departed. She will arrive within five minutes.”

  His voice was soft—light as a falling leaf,

  carrying only the exact weight required.

  “The nutrient IV is prepared.”

  A brief, deliberate pause.

  “I contacted Ms. Savin. She was informed. She understands the… boundaries.”

  YiChen offered the faintest nod.

  He wanted no involvement from City Hall.

  And under no circumstance

  would the Church of Radiant Grace learn

  that Elena Lin was here.

  ?

  The wrought-iron gates of Rosehill Villa opened once more.

  A silver-gray medical vehicle ascended the stone pathway,

  its engine a muted hum swallowed by the fog-wrapped morning.

  It halted at the final step with practiced precision.

  The door slid open.

  Dr. Rita Savin emerged first—

  mid-forties, composed, discreet,

  a woman trusted within Aurora City’s deepest political circles.

  Two nurses followed, their movements clean and silent.

  Bernard bowed at the top of the steps.

  “Please. This way.

  The patient remains feverish and semi-conscious.

  I ask only that she not be startled.”

  Their footsteps sank quietly into the corridor carpet,

  softening into the hush of the villa.

  At the master-bedroom doorway,

  Savin paused, pressed the door open with a measured hand—

  and nodded once.

  “Proceed.”

  ?

  Inside—

  Elena lay in deep sleep.

  Her brow damp with fever.

  Her lips drained of color.

  Her hair had been carefully washed and combed,

  her small frame dressed in soft cotton sleepwear.

  But her complexion remained too pale—

  a fragile, luminous white

  as if a single breath too heavy

  might dim her entirely.

  Savin examined her swiftly, hands sure and unhurried.

  “Minor pulmonary infection,” she murmured.

  “Severe dehydration. Electrolyte imbalance.

  Her temperature remains dangerously high.”

  One nurse was already unfolding the portable vitals monitor.

  The other hung the first saline bag,

  priming the IV tubing with quiet, practiced taps.

  Bernard remained by the window.

  Hands lightly folded.

  Back straight.

  Not merely a servant—

  but a witness sworn to silence.

  To him, this was not routine medical care.

  This was the master of the estate

  entrusting something irreplaceable.

  Minutes later, Dr. Savin stepped back.

  Her voice remained low, firm, clinical:

  “Her constitution is extremely weak.

  She requires continuous monitoring.

  Given her current state,

  I do not expect full consciousness for at least forty-eight hours.”

  Bernard inclined his head—unshaken.

  “All medical costs will be handled by the estate.

  Sir does not wish for her to endure

  even a moment more of pain.”

  Savin stilled—

  Then nodded once.

  “…Understood.”

  ———

  YiChen stood motionless in the corner of the room—

  a shadow carved into the wall,

  silent, unmoving,

  as though even the act of breathing

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  might shatter whatever fragile order remained.

  The medical staff worked around him with quiet precision:

  the soft snap of a needle cap,

  the muted clink of metal against glass,

  the low, controlled murmur of professional exchange.

  Everything was clean.

  Expected.

  Orderly.

  And yet—

  To him it all felt distant,

  as though someone had lowered a sheet of frost

  between him and the world.

  His gaze never left her.

  A nurse gently lifted Elena’s arm.

  Skin so pale it almost glowed under the filtered morning light,

  blue veins threading beneath the surface

  like sugar filaments spun too thin to survive a touch.

  When the needle slid into the vein,

  her body flinched—barely.

  Her lashes gave the faintest tremor.

  But she did not wake.

  YiChen’s throat tightened.

  Something hot—iron sharp—pressed upward in his chest,

  a soundless roar fighting for escape.

  He forced it back down.

  ?

  Dr. Savin’s voice cut through the stillness—low, precise.

  “Occipital impact?”

  “…Mn.”

  The syllable scraped out of him

  like metal dragged against stone—

  flat, pared down, dangerous.

  As though anything longer, anything more human,

  might crack open the thing coiled tight inside him.

  A maid stepped forward with a bowl of warm water.

  Dr. Savin parted Elena’s damp hair with clinical gentleness.

  “A two-centimeter laceration.

  No skull fracture.”

  The cloth swept across the wound—measured, careful—

  but the doctor’s brows pinched anyway.

  “It will require suturing.

  Avoid all pressure to the area for at least forty-eight hours.

  Check consciousness every two hours.”

  YiChen didn’t answer.

  His gaze clung to the curve of Elena’s exposed nape—

  to the dark line of dried blood,

  a stark slash against fragile skin.

  A wound that felt

  as though it had been carved

  directly into his vision—

  into something beneath bone.

  ?

  By afternoon, the sunlight had softened into gold.

  Her pillow had been replaced with a medical suspension pad—

  the injured portion of her skull entirely weightless,

  not a single gram allowed to touch it.

  “Sir, shall I prepare a meal for you?”

  Bernard’s voice was gentle, almost weightless.

  “No.”

  The word came out rough—

  a torn rasp scraped from the bottom of his lungs.

  Not his usual voice.

  Not even close.

  The medical staff withdrew.

  Silence dropped in their wake.

  YiChen pulled a chair to the bedside and sat.

  His gaze slid across the array of instruments—

  the IV drip’s steady rhythm,

  the small, determined pulse of the ECG line,

  the faint mist blooming inside the oxygen mask

  each time Elena drew a shallow breath.

  Then—

  he reached for her hand.

  Small.

  Cold.

  Frighteningly breakable—

  as though even holding her was a plea

  he wasn’t allowed to articulate.

  A thin thread of Spirit Force flowed from his palm,

  warm and carefully controlled,

  slipping into her depleted meridians

  like a lantern being lit

  deep inside a collapsed cavern.

  His head bowed, shadows cutting across his eyes.

  “…I’m sorry.”

  The words fell so quietly

  they felt like an injury in themselves.

  ————

  Aurora Preparatory Academy · Principal’s Office

  The 6 p.m. sunlight slanted through the tall windows,

  pinning the shadows of three girls onto the polished floor—

  thin, trembling silhouettes,

  like birds cornered with no sky left to flee into.

  Melina Hart - 21.

  Bianca Torres - 23.

  Scarlett Vayne - 20

  They stood before Principal Lin Weian,

  faces drained chalk-white,

  fingers twisting their uniforms into knots,

  breaths shallow and uneven.

  BANG—!

  Lin’s fist slammed into the desk.

  The teacup jumped; amber liquid splashed across a stack of documents,

  soaking into the pages like bruises blooming beneath skin.

  “You bullied a student on school grounds?!”

  His voice cracked through the office like a whip.

  “She almost died. Do you understand that?!”

  The windowframes rattled.

  All three girls recoiled as if struck.

  Melina’s chin trembled; tears streaked down her cheeks—

  but Lin’s stare—cold, unsparing—

  froze the sob in her throat.

  She stopped breathing altogether,

  afraid any sound might snap something worse loose.

  ?

  Evidence and Lies

  Lin seized an object from his desk—

  a reddish-brown wig, its synthetic fibers cheap and chemical-sharp.

  Recovered from the fifth-floor trash bin.

  “You used this to lure her out of the infirmary, didn’t you?”

  He hurled the wig.

  It slapped against Melina’s cheek.

  She yelped, stumbling backward,

  flailing as if the weight of her guilt had yanked her off balance.

  “Hiding your faces from the cameras?

  Scrubbing the scene clean afterward?

  Did you really believe that would work?!”

  His gaze snapped to Bianca.

  On the toe of her designer shoe—

  faint flecks of dried blood.

  Minuscule.

  But damning.

  Bianca shattered.

  She collapsed to her knees with a wet thud,

  tears and mucus streaking across her chin as she sobbed,

  ugly and frantic.

  “I—I didn’t mean it! We only wanted to scare her—!”

  “Scare her?”

  Lin’s voice rose—raw, incredulous, nearly breaking.

  “Locking her in a stall.

  Drenching her in ice water.

  Cracking her skull against the tiles until she passed out.

  And you call that scaring?”

  Scarlett folded, both hands clamped over her mouth,

  her shoulders heaving with desperate, stifled cries.

  “We were wrong… we were really wrong…”

  “She—she said the cold water was just a prank!

  That it would be fine if no one died!”

  Bianca sobbed, pointing at Scarlett with a trembling hand.

  Scarlett shook her head violently,

  as if denial could somehow unmake the blood on her conscience.

  ?

  No One to Save Them

  Leo Karanda stood at the window.

  Hands in his pockets.

  Expression calm—

  too calm.

  The kind of calm that felt like thin ice

  covering a void of black, freezing water.

  His voice was soft when it came.

  Soft—

  like a blade slipped between ribs.

  “Now you cry?”

  He didn’t raise his voice.

  The quiet was enough to strip the room bare.

  “You thought you could walk off campus afterward?

  Pretend none of this ever happened?”

  The girls froze as if their hearts had stopped.

  Leo turned slightly, addressing his assistant with chilling ease:

  “Notify YiChen.

  Tell him the culprits have been found.”

  Silence detonated.

  Melina’s legs collapsed beneath her.

  She crumpled into a heap on the floor, shaking so hard her teeth knocked together.

  Then—

  a hiss.

  A hot yellow stain spread beneath her skirt,

  creeping across the polished tiles,

  its smell sharp, acidic, humiliating.

  Bianca choked on a scream.

  Scarlett’s breath hitched into a strangled sob.

  Leo did not blink.

  He adjusted his silver cufflink—

  a small, precise motion,

  like brushing dust off the corner of a gravestone.

  Expression unreadable.

  Tone flat.

  “Mercy is not for people like you.”