Grandmother's heart forgot the order of its own instructions at 11:43 that night.
I woke to three alarms speaking over one another.
The green rhythm on the monitor had slowed into wide, separated shapes. A nurse moved between me and the bed while another lowered the headrail.
"Sir, step outside now."
Grandmother's eyes opened.
She did not look frightened. She looked annoyed that the room had become crowded without her permission.
"XH," she said.
The next alarm covered the rest.
I backed into the corridor as the glass doors closed. People arrived from both ends of the unit. One clinician placed pads against Grandmother's chest. Another prepared medication. The specialist spoke in short instructions that everyone understood except me.
The monitor showed electrical spikes followed by heartbeats that came too slowly.
Then even those became unreliable.
Kitty found me standing with my splinted hand pressed against the glass.
"What happened?"
"Her heart slowed. They told me to leave."
"Did they say anything else?"
"They told me to leave."
It was the only sentence I could still carry.
The team stabilized Grandmother with medication and external pacing before taking her for a temporary pacing wire. The cardiologist met us forty minutes later, still wearing his procedure gown.
"The conduction delay progressed to complete heart block," he said. "We have placed a temporary pacemaker through a vein. It is supporting her rhythm now."
"Then put in the permanent one."
"That may be necessary, but we need to assess the whole situation. Her kidneys are under strain, and she still has fluid affecting her lungs. Implanting a permanent device is possible, but first we need her stable enough to benefit from it."
"You said the valve worked."
"It does."
"Then why is everything getting worse?"
He gave me the kind of silence doctors used when the truthful answer could not be made gentle.
"A successful procedure can correct one problem. It cannot erase what prolonged heart failure has already asked from the body."
Kitty took my left hand.
I let her.
Outside the window, lightning illuminated Yandong without thunder.
The sky was clear above the hospital.
Grandmother woke shortly after dawn with an oxygen mask covering most of her complaints.
The temporary pacemaker stood beside the bed. A thin cable disappeared beneath the dressing near her neck. Each pacing spike on the monitor was followed by a heartbeat, as if a machine had taken over reminding her body what came next.
"NeverMore," she said through the mask.
"What?"
"The festival. Today."
"I am not going."
Her eyes narrowed.
"The university is deciding whether you have a future, and your solution is to sit here making that face?"
"You almost died last night."
"Almost is an unfinished word."
"Grandmother."
She lifted two fingers toward Kitty.
Kitty leaned closer.
"Take him," Grandmother said. "Bring him back when he has done something useful."
"I don't think forcing him is good for his emotional health," Kitty replied.
"You may return him emotionally unhealthy. He arrived that way."
Even with the mask, Grandmother could still defeat both of us.
The cardiologist agreed that her condition was stable enough for us to leave briefly. Stable had become a word with hidden terms and conditions.
Before I went, Grandmother caught my sleeve.
"Your promise is still active."
"You nearly went into cardiac arrest, and you are monitoring my behavior."
"Your behavior is the less predictable rhythm."
I bent and touched my forehead to hers.
"I will come back soon."
"Come back with your place in Med Track."
She released me.
Neither of us said that she might not be awake when I returned.
The Grand Fountain had been turned off for the first time since Foundation Year.
Its stone basin held a shallow circle of rainwater, dead leaves, and coins nobody had collected. Beyond it, the campus lake had withdrawn from the lower steps, exposing a dark band of mud around the edge.
Students crossed the bridge carrying bottled water supplied by the university. Each person received two bottles after showing an ID card.
The notice beside the distribution table called it a conservation initiative.
NC called it Tuesday.
"My mother waited three hours for tap water last night," she said. "It came out cloudy for twenty minutes, then stopped."
Anna held one bottle up to the light.
"Do you think this is safe?"
"The label says purified."
"So did the treatment plant."
No one drank for a moment.
The buses to NeverMore Palace arrived forty minutes late because the transport strike had closed two central routes. Mr. Kim counted us twice before allowing the drivers to leave.
HS came with TZ.
His name still did not appear on the official guest list.
Mr. Kim looked at the clipboard, looked at HS, and drew a small check beside an empty line.
"Administrative correction," he said.
"Will Sleeping Man agree?" HS asked.
"Sleeping Man is currently awake at the palace. This limits his authority here."
JP placed both hands over his heart.
"Sir, that was almost comedy."
"Get on the bus."
For three rows, we nearly sounded like the group from Foundation Year.
Then NS sat beside June.
Kitty sat beside me.
HS chose the seat between TZ and the window.
The old arrangement disappeared before the bus moved.
NeverMore Palace had been dressed for hope.
White and gold ribbons framed the entrance. Sponsor screens displayed donation totals beside Headmaster N's portrait. The Golden Lovers stood beneath soft lights while junior King and Queen candidates practiced smiling as though none of their futures depended on strangers with money.
Elena Liu bowed too early during the ceremonial entrance.
Shally Tuu forgot which hand she was supposed to offer TO.
TO whispered, "The other one," loudly enough for the ballroom microphones to catch it.
The room laughed.
JP watched them restart from their marks.
"We used to be young," he said.
"That was last year," Anna replied.
"Exactly. My knees remember nothing before clinical skills."
For a little while, the palace gave us something harmless to care about.
Then the Engineering delegation arrived.
KM entered with four students wearing black department jackets. Shinso walked behind them carrying a presentation case for the fundraising exhibition. Their group had already raised almost twice the Med Track total through corporate pledges and an athletic showcase.
KM stopped near our table.
"I heard Med Track needed donations to keep its students," he said. "We thought we should contribute. It would be sad if the university lost its most entertaining department."
JP smiled.
"Thank you. We accept cash, card, and sincere apologies."
KM looked at the healing cut near JP's eyebrow from the nightclub brawl.
"Do police bail receipts count?"
NC stepped closer to JP.
"Keep walking."
"I am only welcoming the seniors."
"We're the same year," JP said.
"Academically, maybe."
One of KM's friends laughed.
JP's smile remained, but it stopped belonging to comedy.
Across the ballroom, Acting Director K tapped the microphone.
"As part of the university restoration campaign, this year's Founders Week will conclude with the Utopia Combat Showcase. Department champions will compete under supervised amateur rules, with all proceeds supporting student placements and emergency assistance."
The screen behind him displayed gloves beneath the university crest.
Five three-minute rounds.
Medical clearance required.
No elbows to the head. No strikes to a grounded opponent's head. Referee stoppage mandatory.
KM looked at the screen and then at JP.
"Do they offer a comedy division?"
"Do they offer Engineering a personality?"
"You should register. Every department needs someone willing to embarrass himself for charity."
JP glanced at the standings. Med Track had not submitted a champion.
"Maybe I will."
I stepped between them.
"No."
KM turned toward me.
For half a second, his face became NS's beneath the nightclub lights.
My pulse struck once behind my eyes.
Then I saw KM again.
Grandmother's promise held my hands at my sides.
KM noticed the hesitation and mistook it for fear.
"The famous XH," he said. "You fight beautifully when the other person isn't expecting rules."
NS appeared beside us.
"Walk away, KM."
KM smiled.
"There he is. Med Track's private security and emergency bank account."
JP moved before either of us could.
He placed one hand against my chest and the other against NS's.
"I appreciate the dramatic entrances," he said, "but he was talking to me."
The sentence surprised everyone, including JP.
KM leaned closer.
"Then answer me."
JP looked past him at the empty Med Track space on the registration board.
He took the pen.
JP, YEAR 2 MED TRACK.
Mr. Kim saw the name appear and closed his eyes.
"You need medical clearance," KM said.
"I study medicine."
"That is not how clearance works."
"Then I will ask someone who passed first aid."
KM laughed and returned to his delegation.
JP waited until they were out of hearing range.
Then he exhaled.
His fingers were shaking.
"Remove your name," I said.
"No."
"He is bigger than you."
"Only in the areas where God forgot moderation."
"JP."
His eyes remained on the board.
"If we leave that space empty, everyone remembers Med Track as the department that needed money, got arrested, lost students, and hid behind NS whenever someone laughed."
NS's expression hardened.
"You don't have to prove anything to KM."
"Maybe not. But somebody has to stand there."
He looked at me.
"If I get cleared, you're in my corner."
"You are not fighting him."
"That wasn't my question."
The white registration card trembled beneath his name.
I should have torn it down.
Instead, I said, "I'm in your corner."
JP nodded once.
Years later, I would remember how easily those words left me.
Kitty found me beside the Golden Lovers while JP completed the preliminary registration form.
She adjusted the loose strap around my splint.
"You promised your grandmother you would not fight NS," she said. "You did not promise to help JP get hospitalized by KM."
"He made the decision."
"That is what people say when they want permission to watch a bad decision."
June approached with the revised memorial script. Bunny and Cherry stopped several steps behind her.
"How is your grandmother?" June asked.
"She had complete heart block last night. They placed a temporary pacemaker."
The script lowered in June's hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to."
Kitty tightened the strap one hole further.
"He had other things to handle."
June looked at her fingers near my wrist.
"I asked XH."
"And I answered."
"No. You inserted yourself. Again."
Kitty released the strap.
"You sent one message after the procedure and then disappeared. Don't perform concern now because there are cameras in the room."
"I disappeared? You were checking his phone when I messaged him."
"Your name appeared on the screen. I didn't need to check anything."
"It seems to appear often enough for you to remember."
NC and Anna noticed the change in their voices and moved toward us. Across the ballroom, NS stopped speaking to a sponsor.
I reached for the script.
"Not here."
Neither woman gave it to me.
June's voice became quieter.
"If you're proud of being his replacement, Kitty, say it plainly."
Kitty looked at NS before answering.
"Better a replacement than someone's secret."
June's face changed so slightly that anyone outside our group would have missed it.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then correct me."
"Why? So you can repeat it while sleeping beside him?"
The ballroom seemed to lose its music.
Kitty took one step forward.
"Careful."
"Both of you stop," I said.
June finally handed me the script.
"You always stop the conversation when you might hear something true."
She walked toward NS.
Bunny and Cherry followed her. NC stayed beside Kitty. Anna remained between both directions, as though friendship had become a hallway with closing doors at either end.
Kitty watched June leave.
"I am not ashamed of us," she said.
"I know."
"Are you?"
Sleeping Man called the Med Track seniors toward the stage before I answered.
The Golden Lovers stood behind us beneath the sponsor lights.
For statues, they had always been better at choosing a position than we were.
The memorial rehearsal began beneath Headmaster N's portrait.
Sleeping Man spoke about continuity, resilience, and institutional family while HS stood outside the camera frame.
NS noticed.
"Stand with us," he told him.
HS did not move.
"They did not put my name on the list."
"Mr. Kim corrected it."
"On paper. Not up there."
He pointed toward the screen. The military medical school segment showed our old cohort before HS disappeared from the program. The photograph had been cropped just past his shoulder.
NS lowered his voice.
"This isn't the place."
"That is what you thought when I called you, too."
The words landed quietly.
June looked at NS.
TZ looked away.
NS's jaw tightened.
"I did not know it was an emergency."
"You did not answer long enough to find out."
"I called back."
"After the emergency room did."
Sleeping Man continued describing the university as a place where no student was abandoned.
Nobody near us applauded.
My phone rang before NS could answer.
YANDONG CARDIAC CENTRE.
I left the ballroom while accepting the call.
The nurse spoke carefully.
Grandmother's oxygen level had fallen. Her blood pressure was dropping despite medication, and the temporary pacemaker was still supporting every beat.
"You should return now," she said.
Rain struck the palace windows all at once.
There had been no clouds when we entered.
NS drove because the transit strike had trapped every available car behind the palace district.
June sat beside him.
Kitty and I sat in the back.
No one discussed the seating.
The black-and-gold Ferrari moved through Yandong beneath rain that fell too heavily for the drains. Traffic lights flickered at three intersections. Near the embassy road, a convoy of dark vehicles waited behind a police barricade while foreign staff loaded sealed cases beneath umbrellas.
The radio blamed a localized electrical fault.
NS turned it off.
At the hospital, Grandmother was awake behind a tighter oxygen mask. The temporary pacemaker still drew perfect spikes across the screen.
Her body answered them more weakly than before.
I stood beside the bed.
"I came back."
Her eyes moved toward me.
"Your place?"
"Still ours."
It was not completely true.
It was close enough for love.
"Good," she whispered.
"JP volunteered for a fight."
"Then your friends remain idiots."
"He asked me to stand in his corner."
Grandmother gathered enough strength to turn her head.
"Standing beside someone is not the same as following him into ruin."
"I know."
"No. You know the sentence."
The monitor alarm changed.
Her blood pressure fell again.
The nurse entered, followed by two doctors. One asked me to step outside.
This time Grandmother did not complain about the crowd.
The doors closed between us.
On the other side of the glass, the pacemaker continued sending its perfect instructions.
For the first time, her heart seemed too tired to obey.