Leon froze at the bedside corner, his breath stuck in his throat, eyes wide as if resisting blinking. He looked at Mia’s body—her slender form had just fallen back onto the bed from mere light pressure on his part.
For an instant, the world around him contracted. The golden chandeliers, the subtle scent lingering in the air, even the wan form of Cassidy lying by his side—all of it receded, overwhelmed by the cold jerk of terror that surged through him.
"Mia!" Leon’s voice broke as he stumbled forward. His arms flashed out, urgent, desperate, holding her limp form in his arms. He shook her softly, his fingers trembling. "Mia! Wake up, please—open your eyes, love!"
She didn’t respond. Her eyelashes were immobile, her mouth open slightly, her chest rising so shallowly he could hardly detect it. The stillness of her non-response was a knife pressed against his heart.
No, no, no—Mia, don’t do this to me!" His voice grew louder, raw and desperate.
A voice crept into his mind. Niggling, biting, nearly derisive.
Hey, bro... take it easy, what’s with the shouting?
Leon’s head jerked back, rage welling up in his chest. "Fuck you!" he growled out loud, grinding his teeth as he pushed Mia hard against him. His voice trembled with rage and fear. "You hellish system, do you know what this is supposed to be? She isn’t moving—my Mia isn’t moving, and you’re saying keep calm?
The system’s response was smooth, almost yawned. Relax, idiot. She’s fine. She’s alive. If you don’t believe me, look at her vein. You’ll see yourself.
"Don’t—don’t fool around with me," Leon muttered under his breath, yet his hands still complied. Shaking, he slid them off her shoulder to her wrist, probing frantically. His thumb lay against her soft skin.
And then—there it was. A smooth, steady beat, pulsing beneath his fingertips.
Leon exhaled sharply, relief crashing into him. His shoulders slumped, his head lowering as he whispered, "Thank the gods..."
But his brows tightened again, frustration and confusion wrestling inside him. "Then why? Why doesn’t she wake up? Why is she just lying ?"
The system hummed in his skull. Wait. I’ll analyze.
A long silence, every second dragging, until—
Ding. Analysis complete. Bro, relax. She’s unconscious, not dead. Fatigue knocked her out.
Leon blinked in surprise. "Unconscious? From... exhaustion?"
Yes. She’s been under tension these past few days, hasn’t she? She hasn’t slept well. She’s been caring for her mother’s condition, lying awake, nursing, worrying. Her body just couldn’t catch up. It shut down to save itself.
Leon’s throat constricted when he gazed at Mia’s face—her eyes remaining open weakly, pupils un-focused, like a doll gazing through glass. His hoarse whisper came out, "My poor Mia... are you that tired, love, that you slept even with your eyes open?"
His chest seared. Remorse ate at him. If I had gotten here quicker... if I’d been the one by her side, perhaps she wouldn’t have overdone it.
The system came in fast, unusually softer. Hey. Don’t begin to blame yourself. You can’t do everything.
Leon gritted his teeth. "How can I not? She’s my wife."
An oppressive sigh reverberated in his mind. Then do what is important now. Let her sleep. Don’t wake her—don’t disturb her. Put her down carefully. Her body will heal with sleep.
For a minute, Leon did not speak. He only gazed at Mia’s exhausted face. At last, he nodded slowly. With agonizing gentleness, he lay her back on the bed, nestling her up against her mother’s side. His fingers rested a moment on her eyelids, gently closing them so she might rest in peace.
And he didn’t move. One hand reached for Mia, brushing through her hair gently, over and over again, as if memorizing every strand. His golden eyes never left her. Each time he saw the exhaustion etched into her face, his heart twisted a little deeper.
He whispered, almost to himself, "Rest now, my love. I’ll guard you."
And yet Leon sat, still. His hand stroked her hair. His eyes never flickered. Time crept, stretched, until finally—
Mia’s eyelashes quivered.
Leon snapped upright, every muscle rigid. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, her eyelids opened, and unfocused eyes stared out. At first, she saw only blur—shadows, light, shapes that would not take form.
But then, clarity seeped in.
She first saw him. That face she had fantasized about a thousand nights, set amidst dark hair, illuminated by those golden eyes that always went through her to the heart.
"...Darling?" Her voice was raspy, thick with sleep, dragging like heavy chains. She lifted her hand, weak, trembling, to touch his cheek. Her fingers brushed his skin as if to test if he was real. Her lips curved faintly, whispering with a drowsy, dreamlike tone, "You’re here..."
Then her brows furrowed slightly. She shook her head. "No... no, you can’t be. You’re still in Blackthorn City. I must be dreaming it... this exhaustion is making me see things."
Her hand started to withdraw, sliding away from his face.
But Leon caught it. His fingers closed around hers, warm and hard.
"I’m not your imagination, Mia," he said, voice firm, golden eyes fixed on hers. "I’m real. I’m here."
Her pupils widened. The fog in her gaze shattered. Her half-closed eyes snapped open fully as if waking from a nightmare. She jerked upright, gasping, "Darling—it’s you?!"
The sudden movement tore at her muscles. She winced, a small cry escaping her lips. Leon immediately moved, sliding his arm behind her back, supporting her.
"Careful," he murmured. "You’re still weak."
But Mia did not care. Her hand closed on his face, shaking, her eyes filled with incredulity and hard, hurt longing. "Da-darling... it’s really you?"
Leon nodded slowly, his lips twisting into the smallest smile. "Yes. It’s me, my love."
She stood frozen for an instant, looking at him as though she was terrified he would disappear if she blinked. And then—
Her control shattered.
"Darling!" In a sobbed gasp, she flung herself into his arms. Hands clasped around him, holding on hard, frantically, as tears streamed down her face.
Leon held her back, holding just as hard, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles.
Her words broke, muffled against his chest. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d never come back...!"
Leon shut his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair. He didn’t attempt to still her tears, didn’t interrupt her flood. He just clutched her close, firm and unshakable, allowing her to cry every last drop of ache, weariness, and desolation into his arms.
Because he understood. She needed this.
And for the moment, that was sufficient.