[Volume 2 | Chapter 48: Back to Business (II)]

Acacia scarcely had time to process the weight of what he'd witnessed before a nurse's voice called out from behind him.

"Mr. Belmont? Are you wandering the halls again?"

He turned, schooling his expression into one of innocence. "Just stretching my legs," he replied casually. "Or at least what's left of them."

The woman was Nurse Jensen, a formidable woman whose no-nonsense demeanor had terrorized patients and doctors alike, approaching with a clipboard in hand. She fixed him with a look that suggested she found his explanation dubious at best.

"Well, you can stretch them right back to your room. Dr. Amherst is finalizing your discharge papers."

The words took a moment to penetrate.

"Discharge? As in... I can leave?!"

"That's generally what discharge means, yes." Though her tone remained dry, there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Your guardian has arrived to collect you. Clothes are waiting in your room."

Acacia stood frozen, struggling to process this sudden shift in fortune. Freedom—actual freedom—seemed too precious to be real, like a mirage that might dissolve if examined too closely.

Nurse Jensen sighed, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Today, Mr. Belmont. Move those legs, or I'll have security carry you."

His journey back to his room felt markedly different from his earlier wanderings. Before all steps had been measured and cautious, now he moved like a recharged automobile. The sterile corridors no longer seemed quite so oppressive, the antiseptic scent not quite so suffocating. In his room, he found a neatly folded set of clothes waiting on the bed—fresh clothes. Someone (Eleanor, most likely) had selected them with care: jeans, a simple gray that wouldn't irritate his healing wounds, and comfortable walking shoes.

Finally! Clothing that doesn't involve my ass hanging out!

He dressed quickly, wincing only slightly as he navigated long-sleeved shirt with fingers still stiff from disuse. The fabric felt very soft against his skin after days of hospital gowns, which was a small luxury that suddenly seemed profound in its significance. When he caught his reflection in the small bathroom mirror, he barely recognized himself. The bruises faded to sickly yellows. The split lip was a scar now. He still looked half-starved, but at least not like something dragged from the grave.

Just as he finished tying his shoes, a knock came at the door.

"Acacia? Your guardian is here. Are you decent?" said Dr. Amherst.

"Yeah. Come in."

The door swung to reveal Dr. Amherst's familiar smile and, behind him, a figure Acacia had begun to think might never appear.

Pandora Kircheisen stood in the doorway, resplendent as always in her crisp uniform. Silver hair cascaded over one shoulder in an artful braid, her ebony skin was still blemishless, and her golden eyes surveyed the room with their usual piercing intellect. Yet… there was something different about her. It was a slight softening around the edges, perhaps, or a hint of color high on her cheekbones.

"Lady Kircheisen," Dr. Amherst formally intoned. "As promised, your charge is ready for discharge. His recovery has been remarkable, all things considered, though I must insist on biweekly follow-up appointments for the next month."

Pandora nodded absently, her gaze fixed on Acacia.

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"Has he been cleared for normal activities?"

"Within reason. No strenuous exercise, no getting into fights with assassins—" Dr. Amherst blinked at Acacia, "—and absolutely NO Thaumaturgy of any kind until I give explicit clearance. His system has undergone significant trauma and needs time to fully recover."

"Understood," Pandora replied (she ignored everything he said), still not looking at the doctor. "Is there anything else?"

Dr. Amherst handed her a folder thick with documents.

"His complete medical record, prescription information, and care instructions. The pharmacy has already filled his medications with detailed dosing information attached."

"Thank you, Doctor. For everything. I understand that he has received special care." For the first time since entering, Pandora turned her attention to the older man.

"He's a remarkable, albeit frustrating, young man. Take good care of him." Dr. Amherst's expression softened into a genuine smile as he turned to the boy. "It's been an honor, Mr. Belmont. Stay out of trouble."

Acacia, feeling unexpectedly touched by the doctor's sincerity, mumbled his thanks before following Pandora out of the room. Nurses and orderlies called out well-wishes as they passed through the halls. Even Nurse Jensen, the physical therapist, managed a small wave. It was surreal, like emerging from a dream to discover that the world had somehow shifted during his slumber.

But what was most surreal was seeing Pandora after almost two weeks.

The silence stretched between them during check-out, taut with unspoken words and the echo of their last conversation—that moment of vulnerability when pretenses had fallen away, leaving only truth in its wake. Acacia found himself uncharacteristically hesitant, unsure where they now stood with each other.

The ebony woman finally cleared her throat, seeming to gather her resolve.

"Your clothes... fit. I wasn't certain of your size." Her gaze slid to him and away again, as if she were equally unsure of where to look.

"You picked these out?" Acacia couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Is that so difficult to believe?" A hint of her usual sharpness returned, though it lacked any real bite.

"Honestly? Yes. I figured these came from Mrs. Trafalgar."

"...I-I am capable of selecting appropriate attire," she huffed, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the deepening color in her cheeks. "In any case, it's time to go. The car is waiting."

"You missed me, didn't you?" Acacia grinned.

"I did no such thing." Her response came too quickly, too defensively. "The house has been perfectly peaceful without your constant chaos."

"Peaceful, maybe. But boring, right?"

"I refuse to dignify that with a response. Now come along before I change my mind and leave you here." She handed the paperwork towards the receptionist and practically spun around towards the main lobby exit, but not before Acacia caught the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.

"So, what'd I miss while I was playing Sleeping Beauty? Any international incidents? Declarations of war? The end of the world as we know it?" The Irregular ventured as they made their way to the hospital exit, the June sun painting the sky a brilliant azure.

"Nothing quite so dramatic. Windsor continues as it always has."

"And the Bloodhounds?"

"That's... a conversation for a less public setting. We'll discuss it once we're home."

Home. The word hung in the air between them, simultaneously simple and profoundly complex. Not "my house" or "the residence," but home—a place of belonging, of safety.

A concept that bore the same coordinates as Pandora Kircheisen.

As they neared the hospital's main doors, Acacia was struck by an impulse. A memory had been nagging at him since waking—that mysterious touch that had anchored him during his nightmare, gentle yet firm, cold but somehow warming. On instinct, he reached out and caught Pandora's hand in his own. Her skin was cool against his, her fingers surprisingly delicate despite the strength he knew they possessed. She stiffened in momentary surprise but, remarkably, didn't pull away.

"Don't even think about it. There's an eight-year age ga—"

"Shut up." Acacia softly murmured.

Pandora said nothing in response, but neither did she withdraw her hand.

Acacia knew. It had been her sitting beside his hospital bed in the darkest hours, holding his hand as he battled his demons, grounding him when memories threatened to drag him under. It was out of a notion that neither of them had the courage to name.

Pandora's golden eyes met his, widening slightly as comprehension dawned on the true purpose of the simple gesture. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

Acacia smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

And together, they stepped out into the sunlight.

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