NS did not search for a better answer.
"I thought you would call again if it mattered."
HS watched him from the hospital bed.
"I called twice."
"I know."
"You know now."
The monitor beside HS continued counting a pulse that remained faster than it should have been.
NS sat in the chair nearest the bed.
"I saw your name. I was with June. We were at Bliss. I told myself answering would not fix why you were calling."
"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No."
"Good."
HS closed his eyes.
The room smelled of antiseptic, wet clothing, and the plastic tubing that carried fluid into his arm.
"I was not planning anything," he said after a while. "I need you to understand that before everyone decides what kind of emergency I am."
"Then tell me what happened."
"I had not slept properly for four nights. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the bell from the military school. I kept thinking someone would open my public-health classroom door and tell me the transfer had been a mistake."
NS listened.
"I stopped going home because the room was too quiet. I stayed in the library until it closed. Then I walked. I do not remember getting on the bus. I remember calling you. After that, I remember a stranger asking if I could hear him."
"Where did they find you?"
"Near the old military campus."
The answer entered the room slowly.
"Why were you there?"
"I do not know."
NS leaned forward.
"HS."
"That is the truth. I was not safe alone because I did not trust the next hour. I was not promising to hurt myself. I just did not know where my thoughts would take me if nobody interrupted them."
NS looked at the phone in his hand.
"I should have answered."
HS opened his eyes.
"Yes."
There was no forgiveness in the word.
There was also no cruelty.
Only a fact arriving after it could have helped.
The cardiologist met us at East District Hospital at 4:38.
She placed Grandmother's chest images and preliminary heart ultrasound on a screen.
"The valve controlling blood flow out of her heart appears severely narrowed," she said. "Her heart has been working against that obstruction for some time. Today she developed acute heart failure symptoms, including fluid affecting her lungs. That likely contributed to the breathing difficulty and collapse."
I looked at the gray shapes on the screen.
They meant something to the doctor.
To me, they looked like weather gathering inside a body.
"Can you fix it?"
"We are treating the immediate breathing and blood-pressure problems. Once she is stable enough, a specialist cardiac center must determine whether a valve procedure is appropriate. Her age, overall condition, heart function, and other test results will matter."
"When will they transfer her?"
The cardiologist glanced toward the rain-covered window.
"We requested transfer. The cardiac center has a bed, but ambulance movement across the eastern corridor is delayed."
"Because of the storm?"
"The storm and the transport stoppages. Two access roads are blocked by stranded buses. Emergency vehicles are being redirected through North Ring Road."
Jihye wrote every word.
"How long has she known?" Kitty asked.
The cardiologist looked at the appointment cards.
"She knew further evaluation was needed. I cannot tell you how much she understood without reviewing the outside records. Her symptoms did not begin today."
The sentence found every time I had watched Grandmother support herself against furniture and accepted her explanation.
Tired.
Busy.
Getting older.
Nothing to worry about.
"Can I stay with her?"
"She is being moved to monitored cardiac care. Visiting will be limited."
"I am her only family here."
"Then we will contact you first if her condition changes."
The doctor said it kindly.
It still sounded like preparation.
At 5:02, every Utopia University student received the same announcement.
The notification reached East District and Yandong General within seconds of each other.
UTOPIA RENEWAL FESTIVAL AND HEADMASTER N MEMORIAL WEEK
The message carried Acting Director K's digital signature.
Students called him the Sleeping Man because he had once appeared to sleep through an entire budget meeting before waking to reject every request discussed during it.
His announcement did not sound tired.
The festival would take place at NeverMore Palace six days later, one year after Headmaster N's tragic passing. Ticket sales, sponsors, alumni pledges, and public donations would support laboratory maintenance, clinical-placement partnerships, student aid, and the continuation of several university pathways.
The King and Queen Selection would return for incoming Foundation Year and Year 1 students.
Year 2 participants from the previous selection were invited as legacy guests.
Attendance was described as voluntary.
The next paragraph described it as evidence of commitment to the university community.
Nobody in Med Track misunderstood the contradiction.
Under Headmaster N, clinical progression had been presented as difficult but protected. Meet the grade. Complete the practicals. Survive the examinations. The pathway would remain.
Under Sleeping Man, the laboratory needed donations, placements needed sponsors, and continuing along the route required appearing grateful beneath palace lights.
The promises had not been formally withdrawn.
They had become conditional one sentence at a time.
A second notification reached the previous candidates privately.
Kitty and June were requested to appear beside the new Queen candidates.
NS, JP, and TZ were assigned to the senior King delegation.
My message used different language.
LEGACY-GUEST STATUS: PENDING CONDUCT APPROVAL.
The conduct office had prohibited me from representing Utopia at student events.
The Acting Director's office now requested a special review because my attendance was considered valuable to public engagement and alumni interest.
The university had spent three days distancing itself from my face.
It needed the same face when tickets went on sale.
"They banned you until donors asked whether you would be there," JP said.
"Nobody asked."
"Then Sleeping Man thinks they will. That may be worse."
NS received a separate request from Donor Relations asking whether his family would reserve a sponsor table.
He declined without showing June.
Headmaster N had once warned staff against turning students into advertisements for pathways they were still struggling to survive.
While he was alive, the students had complained about his meetings, his inspections, his impossible standards, and the way he appeared whenever anyone tried to solve a problem quietly.
Now his portrait appeared above sponsorship tiers.
The guilt did not make them remember him as perfect.
It made them understand which protections they had mistaken for permanence.
JP read the announcement beside the East District vending machines.
"We are fundraising for the things tuition was supposed to purchase."
Anna read over his shoulder.
"Do not post that."
"I was not going to."
"You already typed half of it."
JP deleted the draft.
"The Headmaster anniversary should not be a ticketed event."
NC looked toward the cardiac-care doors.
"He protected the pathway while we complained that his rules were controlling."
"Some of them were controlling," Jihye said.
"They were also stable," Anna replied.
Nobody argued.
Stability had become more valuable after it disappeared.
The same announcement reached HS's bedside through NS's phone.
HS read the title and laughed once.
The sound became a cough.
"A memorial fundraiser."
"You do not have to think about university tonight," NS said.
"That is what everyone told me when I left. Then the university followed me into my sleep."
Mr. Kim stood near the curtain with the emergency physician.
"The festival is not your responsibility," he said.
"Was I invited?"
Mr. Kim did not answer immediately.
HS understood.
"Legacy guests," he said. "Except the legacy that dropped out."
"You are receiving medical care," Mr. Kim replied. "Do not use an event list to measure whether you mattered."
"The university already did."
Outside the room, June looked at the attached promotional image.
NeverMore Palace glowed beneath artificial gold light.
The Golden Lovers stood at the center of the poster.
The male statue reached.
The female statue waited.
Ten minutes between saving someone and losing them.
June remembered rain covering XH's face beneath those statues.
She remembered his hand against her cheek.
She remembered believing that one kiss had finally turned waiting into an answer.
NS emerged from HS's room and found her still looking at the image.
"You are thinking about him," he said.
June locked the screen.
"I am thinking about who we were."
"Is there a difference?"
"There has to be."
NS sat beside her.
Neither of them believed the answer was complete.
The first message from the new students arrived at 5:19.
TO sent it to JP.
TO: SENIOR JP, I WAS SELECTED FOR KING REGISTRATION. PEOPLE SAID YOU SURVIVED THE LAST EVENT. ANY ADVICE?
JP stared at the word senior.
JP: FIRST, NEVER TRUST A PALACE CLOCK.
TO: WHY?
JP: IT KNOWS WHEN YOU ARE WEAK.
TO: IS THAT A JOKE?
JP looked at the hospital corridor.
JP: I WILL TELL YOU WHEN I DECIDE.
He showed the message to Anna.
"He called me senior."
"You are a senior."
"That happened too fast."
"You complained through every year of it."
"I thought there would be more warning before becoming ancient."
The second message reached Kitty.
ELENA LIU: HELLO, SENIOR KITTY. I WAS TOLD YOU WERE A QUEEN CANDIDATE LAST YEAR. MAY I ASK HOW YOU HANDLED THE PUBLIC ATTENTION?
Elena's profile photograph showed a neat uniform, dark hair tied back, and an expression that looked prepared to correct the photographer.
Kitty read the question twice.
KITTY: I DID NOT ALWAYS HANDLE IT WELL. DO NOT LET PEOPLE TURN YOUR SILENCE INTO PERMISSION TO WRITE YOUR STORY.
Elena began typing immediately.
The third message arrived in June's inbox.
SHALLY TUU: SENIOR JUNE! I SAW THE OLD NEVERMORE PHOTOS. IS IT TRUE THE GOLDEN LOVERS CHANGE WHOEVER KISSES BENEATH THEM?
Shally's message included three gold-heart stickers and one photograph of the new candidate ribbon pinned upside down.
June almost smiled.
JUNE: STATUES DO NOT CHANGE PEOPLE. PEOPLE CHANGE AND BLAME THE PLACE WHERE SOMEONE NOTICED.
Shally replied with another gold heart.
SHALLY TUU: THAT SOUNDS ROMANTIC AND TERRIFYING.
June looked toward NS.
JUNE: IT WAS BOTH.
Across two hospitals, the Year 2 students watched younger names enter the story as if the last two years had taken no time at all.
For the juniors, NeverMore Palace was beginning.
For the seniors, it had never completely ended.
The hospital reduced water service at 6:00.
Signs appeared above the washrooms asking visitors to conserve water. One sink on the cardiac floor stopped running. Staff rolled sealed containers from a tanker parked behind the loading entrance.
The waiting-room television reported that the Water Workers Coalition had joined fishermen and river crews in refusing operations along the southern channel. Dead fish, damaged nets, discolored discharge, and unexplained illness had been reported near several drainage outlets.
A government spokesperson blamed seasonal changes.
The river workers held jars of gray water toward the cameras.
Nobody at East District watched long enough to hear the interview finish.
The cardiac nurse called my name.
Grandmother's blood pressure had fallen again.
They adjusted treatment and asked everyone to remain available.
The cardiac-center ambulance was still delayed.
I sat beneath the television with my left hand around my phone.
Kitty sat beside me.
"You should sleep," she said.
"So should you."
"I am not the one seeing other roads."
"I am not sleeping here."
"Then close your eyes and argue less efficiently."
She rested her head against the wall.
Within minutes, her breathing slowed.
Kitty dreamed that the hospital corridor had no end.
She heard XH and NS arguing behind a closed treatment-room door.
Their words were impossible to understand.
The sounds were not.
A chair moved.
Something struck a wall.
Someone fell.
Kitty tried the handle.
The door opened into an empty room lit by one white ceiling lamp.
XH stood on one side with both hands unwrapped.
NS stood on the other with blood at the corner of his mouth.
"Stop," Kitty said.
Neither man looked at her.
"He agreed," NS said.
"One of us leaves," XH replied.
The room lengthened when Kitty stepped inside.
The men moved farther away.
She ran toward them and remained in the same place.
XH lifted his hands.
NS did the same.
Behind them, a bell began to ring.
The first strike sounded like the military school.
The second sounded like a monitor alarm.
The third sounded like bone against bone.
One of them fell beyond the edge of the light.
Kitty woke before seeing which one.
A supply trolley had struck the wall beside the waiting-room doors.
No bell was ringing.
XH slept in the chair beside her, head tilted against the window, splinted hand resting across his chest.
Kitty checked the far end of the corridor.
NS was not there.
Her heart continued racing as if he had been.
She took XH's left hand without waking him.
She told herself the dream came from the brawl video, the hospital, and too many conversations about kings who could not coexist.
It was only concern wearing a crueler face.
She did not tell anyone.
At 8:44, Grandmother's transfer was approved for the following morning if the eastern route reopened.
At Yandong General, HS was admitted overnight for medical monitoring and a mental-health assessment once his exhaustion improved.
NS remained outside his room.
"You can go," HS said through the open door.
"I know."
"June is waiting."
"I know."
"Then why are you still here?"
NS looked at the chair where he had ignored the first call.
"Because leaving is the decision I already made."
HS turned toward the wall.
He did not ask NS to stay.
He did not ask him to leave again.
At 9:00, ticket sales opened for the Headmaster N Memorial and Utopia Renewal Festival.
The Golden Lovers appeared on every university screen.
The Headmaster's anniversary was still six days away.
Utopia had already begun selling tickets to survive it.