“It’s chaotic, so just one person talk. I’m not hurt anywhere, and my body’s fine. I don’t remember how I collapsed. You—do you know anything?”
As if organizing the situation, Sihyeon spoke and looked at Hamin. Hamin briefly furrowed his brow, seemingly puzzled by the claim of not remembering, then shrugged his shoulders when he felt all eyes turn toward him. A gesture that said he didn’t know. This time, Sihyeon frowned in confusion.
“If you don’t know, then who does?”
“Then why don’t you know?”
“I told you—I don’t remember.”
“I just saw you suddenly collapse, so I carried you up the stairs. After that, Kang Haeun came down and we were able to get out. What more do you want me to say?”
His voice was rough, as if irritated by the repeated questioning. Or maybe he just didn’t like being pressed—either way, Sihyeon frowned right back, and as the atmosphere turned sharp, Haeun quickly cut in, telling them to stop.
“Sihyeon just woke up—why are you two fighting again? Both of you, calm down!”
“We’re not fighting.”
“You totally are!”
Feeling wronged at being treated like someone who couldn’t be reasoned with, Sihyeon protested, but Haeun shouted back, asking if he thought he was stupid. His voice rang loudly throughout the Infirmary. Thinking about it again, it was clear he truly didn’t understand the concept of “rest.”
What if there had been other students in the Infirmary? Sihyeon had been about to scold him, but anticipating Haeun yelling that Sihyeon himself started it, he held back. The noisy, chaotic Infirmary finally quieted down after a while. Then suddenly, the Monthly Evaluation came to mind.
“Come to think of it, what happened to our evaluation?”
“You’re asking that now? Everyone got an A.”
“No S?”
“You think there would be?”
“This time, A is the highest score!”
Haeun cheerfully added on to Hamin’s provocative tone. If A was the highest, that meant everyone on Team B had gotten full marks. Relief washed over him, and as the tension left his body, he became aware of the stiffness in his back from sitting on a chair without a backrest. Wanting to lie down somewhere, he stood up—only for multiple hands to grab him, asking where he was going. With firm strength, they pushed him right back into the chair. It felt like they were trying to glue him to it.
“My back hurts. This is uncomfortable.”
Irritated by the excessive fuss, he spoke sharply—only for his body to suddenly lift into the air. Before he could even process what was happening, Geonwoo, who had been silent the whole time, abruptly picked him up. Like he was wrapping up a bundle, Geonwoo hoisted him over his shoulder in one swift motion, holding his waist and legs as he walked toward the recovery room. Sihyeon twisted his head to glare at the back of his blue hair. The ease with which he was lifted bruised his pride.
No—it was just plain embarrassing.
Being carried like luggage in front of everyone—how could that not be humiliating? It’s not like he didn’t have legs just because he fainted. Feeling wronged, Sihyeon struggled and smacked Geonwoo’s back with his palm, signaling to be put down. Firm muscles could be felt even through the thin school uniform shirt. He hit him several times, but never once got to touch the ground himself before being transported straight to the bed. Then, as if handling something precious, Geonwoo carefully laid him down. It was a sight embarrassing even to watch.
“…I can walk.”
Covering his face with one hand, Sihyeon muttered with a sigh. Only after finishing moving him did Baek Geonwoo casually reply, “Yeah.”
What was the point of answering now? Sihyeon swallowed the words that rose to the tip of his tongue. Even if he said them, Geonwoo would just nod with that same indifferent expression and say “yeah” again.
“Even if it’s embarrassing, just endure it, Sihyeon! Geonwoo’s worried you’ll collapse again!”
Yeah—like he didn’t already know that.
That was like fanning the flames on a burning house. But Haeun didn’t stop there.
“Should we have Geonwoo carry you back to the dorm too?”
Splash—he didn’t just fan the flames, he poured oil on them.
Sihyeon shot an annoyed look at Haeun, who was poking at him with an innocent face, and pushed himself up. He got up too quickly, and dizziness hit, making him frown. Geonwoo, who had been holding his shoulder, immediately pushed him back down onto the bed. Then he even pulled the blanket up to his neck. The care was excessively meticulous.
Compared to before, the level of fussing had gotten worse.
He’d expected it when he woke up from fainting, but at this rate, how was he any different from a newborn kitten? He couldn’t even walk on his own or move freely. At this point, it felt like they might even feed him themselves. At this rate, they’d probably start helping him use the bathroom too.
…They wouldn’t actually go that far, right?
Sihyeon, who had been grumbling inwardly, suddenly went pale at the realization that, with this group, they actually might. Each time he fainted, their fussing increased by one level. At this point, he was genuinely afraid of what the fifth time might bring.
It’s not like I fainted on purpose.
He muttered weakly, like an excuse he knew wouldn’t work.
“What about the teachers?”
“They stayed by your side the whole time until we went to eat, then went to a meeting. They said you should stay in the Infirmary as much as possible until they get back.”
“…Ah.”
Either way, he wasn’t in a position to leave the Infirmary anyway. Hearing that, Sihyeon felt oddly at ease and burrowed into the soft blanket. He’d thought this before, but the Infirmary blankets were smooth, and when pressed, they sank in with a soft poof—it felt nice to hug or lie under them.
“Come to think of it, doesn’t Sihyeon look like he lost some weight?”
Suddenly, Haeun reminded him of something he had forgotten. Just that morning, he’d been happy about gaining weight—but in half a day, it had all disappeared. Sihyeon wanted to believe it was just muscle loss from sleeping too long. Otherwise…
“Then we should increase how much you eat.”
…He’d hear things like that.
Before he could even make an excuse, Sihyeon looked at Seowoo, who had already declared they’d increase his meal portions. At some point, Seowoo had come into the recovery room and pulled back the curtain with a gentle smile. Seeing that kind smile paired with the intention to stuff him with food to his limit already made Sihyeon’s stomach uneasy.
“Overeating is worse for you.”
“It’s better than dying.”
“You don’t die just because you’re a bit skinny.”
“But you’ll collapse.”
See—bringing that up puts me at a disadvantage.
His red lips parted slightly, unable to find a counterargument. With this latest fainting, his “fainting stack” had reached four. Which meant Yoo Seowoo’s go-to line—you’ll just collapse again—had become even more effective. Since increasing his food intake was one of the things Sihyeon hated most, he rolled his eyes before speaking.
“Then I’ll just throw it up after eating.”
“Should I feed you again after that too?”
“What?”
“I’m joking.”
It didn’t sound like a joke at all. The voice that had said he’d feed him even after throwing up had been especially cold. Sihyeon narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at Seowoo. The sunlight-like eyes didn’t match the voice he’d just heard. For a moment, he almost thought he’d imagined it.
Watching him with suspicion, Seowoo—now fully receiving his gaze—smiled in satisfaction before stepping back slightly.
“Then should we just keep it the same as what you ate before?”
In the end, nothing would change from before.
When he had gained weight, he’d been happy thinking he’d finally get to stop eating so much.
Even delicious food becomes tiresome if you keep eating it, and if you keep eating something you’re tired of, it becomes nauseating. Eating like that every single meal felt a bit too much. Humans need food, clothing, and shelter—but if eating itself became unbearable, how was he supposed to live? Just as he was about to press his case further, the door burst open and the teachers walked in.
In the end, he missed his chance to talk about reducing his meals.
When they asked if he was okay, he said he was. When they asked if he remembered anything, he answered as much as he could. After the interrogation-like Q&A ended, a physical examination followed. Only after being thoroughly checked by the school nurse was he told he could return to the dorm and rest. Before he knew it, it was past 9, and outside the window it was completely dark.
“Are you sure you don’t want Geonwoo to carry you?”
“How many times do I have to say I’m fine? I didn’t want that in the first place.”
“You don’t like it?”
“…I don’t mean I don’t like you.”
This was more exhausting than answering the teachers’ questions in the Infirmary. Trying to shut Haeun up as he kept fanning the flames, soothing Geonwoo whose expression had darkened, and holding tightly onto Haru’s hand—who wouldn’t let go after the latest fainting—it felt like being a kindergarten teacher. This must be what it felt like to manage a group with an average mental age of 6.5.
“Sihyeon.”
“Yes.”
“…Do you maybe have some serious illness or something?”
As if things weren’t bad enough, Haru now started treating him like a main character with a tragic backstory from a web novel. At the suggestion that he kept collapsing because something was wrong, Sihyeon shook his head and firmly denied it. Still not reassured, Haru even brought up a disease that was hard to even say aloud.
In response, Sihyeon argued that the probability of getting cancer at his age was extremely low, and even wrote a “pledge” saying he’d get treatment if he ever did. Only then did Haru finally let out a relieved breath.
“…Or maybe some other illness.”
No—he didn’t seem reassured at all.
By the fourth fainting, Sihyeon became certain: fainting four times meant being treated like a patient. Thinking about it, he felt a bit wronged. It’s not like he fainted because he was weak—there had been reasons every time. The first time, he lost consciousness because he couldn’t breathe. The second was due to trauma. The third was because, as a Dual, he used Class Engraving three times. And the fourth…
…He didn’t know.
…Isn’t that a bit dangerous?
Only then did it start to dawn on him that his condition might actually be serious. After all, he’d completely lost his memory from before collapsing. Maybe he really did have some kind of illness. Since summer break was coming up soon, Sihyeon decided he’d get a health check-up then. After parting ways with Seowoo and the others, he returned to his room.
“Pya pya!”
The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, a round creature flew toward him and headbutted his chest. It started crying loudly, teary-eyed as if it hurt—even though it was the one who had slammed into him. Holding Pia in his arms, Sihyeon gently stroked it to calm it down. Only then did Pia stop crying and rub itself against him.
“Looks like Pia was worried too!”
“Even a bird-brain is worried about you. Nice going.”
“It’s not a bird—it’s a fantasy species.”
Frowning at Hamin’s jab, Sihyeon replied while holding Pia and walked over to the bed. He’d been fine on the way, but the moment he saw the bed, his tension eased and fatigue hit him. With Pia in his arms, it was even more soothing. Debating between showering and sleeping, he remembered that the school nurse had used the Clean skill on him, and buried his head into the pillow.
“Pya-pya-pya-pya-pya, pya-pya-pya.”
As if in a good mood, Pia hummed like a song. Using that as a lullaby, Sihyeon closed his eyes, letting the fatigue take over. Haeun had gone to wash up, and the quiet room felt especially comforting. The silence wrapped around him warmly like a blanket. Falling asleep in it didn’t take long.
