After drawing blood, Yoren and Zhang Yuan sat on a bench in the corridor, waiting for the results.
Sothing was off. The air between them was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension.
Yoren wrapped the red scarf around his neck again. It looked out of place, awkward even, but he didn't care. His face remained unreadable, indifferent to the curious stares of passersby.
Zhang Yuan sat beside him, arms crossed, his expression stern.
"Yoren, give an explanation."
"What explanation do you want?"
"What the hell happened to you these past few days?"
"A lot of things happened."
"Then start from the beginning."
Yoren pulled the scarf higher, half-hiding his face. He had no intention of explaining anything.
This experience—this nightmare—was not a secret. He could stand in the middle of the street and shout it into a gaphone, but no one would believe him.
Zhang Yuan might, though. He knew him well enough to trust his words. But even then, what was the point?
"Zhang Yuan, I'll tell you. But not now."
Bang!
Zhang Yuan shot up from his seat, grabbed Yoren by the collar, and slamd him against the wall.
He locked eyes with him, his voice tight with frustration.
"Yoren, don't take for a fool. Others might not know, but I do. You've been infected with mineral sickness."
Yoren didn't resist. He let Zhang Yuan hold him there, silent and still.
Seeing no denial, Zhang Yuan's grip tightened.
"Why do you have it? This disease—it's supposed to be fictional, sothing from the ga! What happened to you? What did you go through?"
"It has nothing to do with you."
Yoren shoved Zhang Yuan back with enough force to send him stumbling to the ground.
He wasn't trying to shut him out. He wasn't trying to act tough. But there was no ti for explanations.
Across the corridor, the doctor from the laboratory was pacing anxiously, a test report in hand, speaking rapidly into the phone. That report—it had to be Yoren's.
Zhang Yuan pushed himself up from the floor, rubbing his back, staring at Yoren like he was seeing a stranger.
"Yoren, you..."
"Don't you have class this afternoon? You should go. I'll pay you back the money I borrowed later."
"Sumr Breeze..."
"Go. There's nothing for you to do here anymore. I'm sorry."
Zhang Yuan hesitated. Yoren had never spoken to him like this before.
He walked up to him again, gripping his shoulders. "Are we still brothers?"
"Yeah. Always. But you need to leave. Now."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you later. Just listen to and go."
The look in Yoren's eyes left no room for argunt. Zhang Yuan had a hundred questions, but he knew Yoren wouldn't answer them. Not now.
"Call if you need anything."
With those parting words, Zhang Yuan turned and walked away, disappointnt heavy in his steps.
Yoren wasn't trying to use him and then push him aside. He wasn't trying to put on a show. But he had realized sothing—sothing big.
His mineral sickness might be more significant than he had ever imagined. It might not just be a personal affliction; it could have consequences far beyond himself.
He had thought this would be simple. Get tested, leave so reports, and walk away. But now, the weight of it all pressed down on him.
He couldn't predict what would happen next. But he knew one thing: Zhang Yuan, an ordinary person, couldn't be involved in this.
A few minutes later, the male doctor who had seen him earlier appeared in the laboratory. He gave Yoren a conflicted look before stepping inside.
Then he ca back out, holding the test report.
"Young man, your situation is... complicated. I've already notified the vice president. Please wait here. A nurse will take you to the seventh floor soon."
"Oh."
Yoren wasn't surprised. This doctor was just a general practitioner, an everyday healer. But the test results in his hands—they were sothing else entirely. Sothing beyond his understanding.
A few minutes later, a young nurse led Yoren into an elevator. As the doors slid shut, he exhaled slowly.
For doctors in this world, oripathy was an enigma, a disease beyond comprehension. If they wanted to study it, to understand it better, Yoren was willing to cooperate—to a certain extent.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, and Yoren stepped out into a floor that was different from the others. This wasn't a regular hospital ward. This was an administrative and research area, where dical experts gathered to discuss breakthroughs and conduct experints.
The nurse led him to a private office door and knocked gently.
"Co in."
A deep voice from inside.
Pushing the door open, Yoren saw an older man with white hair and glasses seated at a desk. He was the vice president of the hospital.
The nurse handed over the report with a respectful bow. "Director Li, the patient is here. This is his examination report."
"Alright, you may go."
Director Li took the report, scanning through it quickly. Then, noticing Yoren still standing stiffly at the door, he gestured toward the sofa.
"Sit down. If you're thirsty, help yourself to so water."
"Oh."
Yoren sat, but he wasn't at ease.
The director focused on the report. His expression shifted from curiosity to deep concern. He flipped the pages back and forth, re-reading certain sections. Then, after a pause, he picked up the phone.
"Xiao Chen, bring the blood sample of patient Yoren."
After ending the call, Director Li stood up and left the office.
From where he sat, Yoren could see through the open doorway. The doctor from the laboratory exited the elevator, a test tube in hand, which he handed over to Director Li.
The director took the sample and disappeared into a room next door.
Monts later, three elderly doctors, their hair silvered with age, arrived. They didn't hesitate. They went straight into the sa room.
Yoren watched, eyes narrowing.
Then, more doctors ca. One after another, they entered the room. The best dical minds in the hospital, maybe even the country, were gathering. Because of him.
Yoren poured himself a glass of water and drank it down in one gulp before quietly stepping outside.
Standing at the door, he peeked through the small window. Inside, a cluster of doctors huddled around a microscope. Others were busy operating strange dical devices.
He pressed his ear against the door, straining to catch their conversation. The words were muffled, but he could make out fragnts.
"Cells... pathological changes... possibility of infection..."
Yoren tightened his grip on the empty glass.
The dical experts inside were deep in discussion over various test results, their voices low and tense. No one noticed Yoren standing outside the door.
After a mont, as if they had reached a silent consensus, the doctors all reached for their masks and secured them in unison.
Dean Li turned toward the glowing instrunt screen, his voice heavy.
"What do you think?"
The youngest doctor hesitated before speaking. "This substance has an extrely high fusion rate with human cells. We can confirm that the carrier has the potential to be contagious."
An older professor imdiately countered. "Preliminary results suggest the substance is incredibly stable. It won't evaporate or spread through the air—blood transmission is the only likely vector. Of course, we can't rule out future mutations."
Dean Li's gaze darkened. "Professor Zhang, have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Professor Zhang exhaled slowly. "Never. It appears to be a mineral, but it's unlike anything I've studied. It's highly active—almost alive—assimilating and replicating at an alarming rate. This is very strange."
The young doctor turned to Dean Li. "Should we inform the Academy of Sciences?"
Dean Li nodded. "Yes, do it now."
Just then, Professor Zhang's expression shifted. "Wait—where is the patient?"
"In my office."
"Bring him here. No, we should go to him. Let's move."
They pushed open the door—only to find Yoren standing in the corridor, his face unreadable.
Dean Li frowned and stepped forward. "Young man, why did you co out?"
"Am I not allowed to?" Yoren's voice was flat.
"No, no, of course. Let introduce you—these are so of our top dical experts. This is Professor Zhang, a specialist in blood research—"
"Spare the introductions." Yoren's tone was cold, his gaze sweeping over the so-called experts.
"So?" He crossed his arms. "Have you reached a conclusion? What exactly is wrong with ?"
An awkward silence filled the air.
"We... can't confirm anything yet."
Yoren let out a short, humorless laugh. "Fine. Let rephrase—do you have any idea how to treat it? Or have you ever seen anything remotely similar?"
Dean Li mistook Yoren's directness for fear and tried to reassure him. "Don't worry. We'll do everything we can. This is our duty as doctors—"
"Enough." Yoren cut him off. "Since you can't cure it, do you at least have a way to suppress it? Slow its spread? Delay organ failure?"
The murmuring of doctors broke out behind him.
"Organ failure? Can this disease cause that?"
"It's possible..."
Yoren sighed. Just as he suspected, the dical knowledge of this world was still too limited. Oripathy—no, ore disease—defied the very laws of this reality.
His mission was complete. He had made them aware of its existence. Now, it was up to them to act.
"You have my blood samples. You've done all the tests. Do your best to find a cure." He turned to leave. "Goodbye."
"Wait!" Dean Li called after him. "For proper observation, we need you to stay in the hospital. Don't worry, all expenses will be covered. Just cooperate."
"I don't have ti to be sick," Yoren replied without turning back. "I have more important things to do."
Professor Zhang suddenly grabbed his arm. "You can't leave. Your disease is too unusual—we need to monitor it."
Yoren's gaze turned ice-cold. "You're afraid I'll infect others."
The professor hesitated. "We can't rule out the possibility."
"Relax. Before I die, ore disease won't spread through the air. Besides, I won't be around ordinary people. I am—and will remain—the only case in this world."
Dean Li stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Ore disease? Is that what it's called? I've never heard of it."
"Well, now you have. Do your job. If you can't find a cure, tell the right people. Inform the world. Bring in foreign experts. But don't waste my ti. I'm leaving."
Yoren turned, but the professor tightened his grip. "No, you can't go."
His patience snapped. "You have no right to detain ."
The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. Yoren's condition had already surpassed anything they understood. The professor held firm.
"The hospital's infectious disease protocol allows us to isolate you."
Yoren narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain I'm infectious?"
"We—at least, we can't rule it out."
Yoren didn't have ti for this. The burning sensation was spreading through his body again. The illness was flaring up. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
"Let. . Go."
"No—stop him! Don't let him leave!"
Yoren shoved the professor aside. The old man slamd into the corridor wall with a sharp cry.
"Professor! Are you alright?"
Doctors rushed to his side, but Yoren was already moving, slipping away in the chaos.
This world's dicine was too primitive. Leaving his blood sample behind was enough. Seeking further treatnt would be foolish.
Because humans feared what they didn't understand. Because existing technology wasn't advanced enough to study it quickly.
Soon, this matter would reach those in power.
And Yoren? He was just a student. He didn't understand politics, secret organizations, or shadowy negotiations. If he let himself be taken in, he would lose all agency. Locked away, monitored, fed empty reassurances.
No. He refused to die waiting for a cure that might never co.
He covered his face with a scarf and slipped out of the hospital. The incident had been sudden—no one outside the seventh floor knew who he was. He had sent Zhang Yuan away in advance. Alone, the doctors couldn't stop him.
And once he retrieved his phone...
Yoren would disappear completely.
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