I'm So Glad I Met You, Sister
"I'm glad I met you, sister."
"Psyche! Snap out of it—what's wrong? Can you hear me?"
Even amid my frantic cries, Psyche couldn't give a proper reply. Her tiny body trembled finely under the thick blanket like aspen leaves in the wind, and her milky-white face had flushed bright red before I knew it. The cold sweat beading on her forehead soaked the pillow damp.
I panicked and placed my hand on Psyche's brow, only to yank it back with a scream-like gasp.
"Oh my god, what kind of fever is this...? How can a person burn this hot?"
The heat radiating into my palm felt like a roaring furnace. After that long journey yesterday, the tension of an unfamiliar place, and our parents' cold neglect piled on top—it was no wonder a five-year-old body couldn't hold out.
I recalled the original story's detail: before awakening as the Saintess, Psyche had been particularly frail, prone to frequent minor illnesses.
I jumped up and filled the washbasin with cold water. I soaked a clean cloth in it, wrung it out tight, and gently laid it over her scorching forehead.
"It's cold, right? Just hang in there a bit. We need to bring this fever down first. I'll be right here by your side."
"Sister... haa... ugh... what if you catch my cold...? Please stay away... I'm sorry..."
Even in this state, Psyche worried about me more than herself. That stubborn consideration twisted my gut instead.
I gripped her little hand tight and said firmly,
"Don't worry. Your sister's super tough—she never catches colds. So stop those useless thoughts and just rest. Got it?"
Only then did Psyche seem to relax, closing her eyes.
Ah, this isn't the time. "Sister's gonna run to the Village and get medicine right now, so hold on just a little longer. Okay?"
As I stood to go, Psyche clutched my sleeve. Dazed by fever and half-asleep, she still gripped the fabric hard.
"Can't you... not go...? Just... stay by my side? I'm scared, sister... I hate being left alone..."
Her desperate voice rooted my feet, but the terror of what might happen if I left her like this outweighed it. I sat back by the bed and slowly stroked her hair.
"I'll be back before you know it. Your sister's a really fast runner. So close your eyes and sleep for just one hour. I promise."
"Okay... just one hour..."
I gently closed her eyes for her. To the rhythm of my strokes, Psyche soon slipped into deep sleep.
Confirming she was out, I bolted for the Village. The path down felt ten times longer than usual. My heart raced so much I tripped over my own feet countless times. When the rain started sprinkling, even my vision blurred.
"Hey? Roen! Where you off to this early? Not coming to the Bakery today? We've gotta prep the Deli Manju dough!"
Ariel spotted me at the crossroads, basket in hand, and waved cheerfully. Normally I'd chat back, but I had zero seconds to spare.
"Sorry, Ariel! Emergency—talk later! I'm skipping today! Tell the Baker!"
"Hey, Roen! Where're you going? What's the rush! Roen!"
I ignored Ariel's shouts from behind and sprinted straight for the apothecary. My lungs burned, legs wobbled, but I couldn't stop. My mind held only the image of that silver-haired child groaning in pain.
Ding-a-ling—the shop door flew open as I burst in. The Apothecary startled, adjusting his glasses to peer at me.
"Aigoo, Roen, is that you? What's got you rushing in here looking like a drowned rat?"
"Huff... huff... Uncle, fever medicine... the best one. Oh, and cough syrup, detox herbs too. Right now!"
"Alright, I'll get 'em—calm down first."
As he rummaged, he asked,
"Who's this for? Doesn't look like you're the sick one."
"My little sister! She's burning up so bad—it's an emergency! She's really hurting—hurry, please!"
Nearly in tears and yelling, I made him grasp the urgency. He hurried to a deep shelf and pulled out several brown glass vials.
"Here, this has a bit of precious mana herb mixed in—perfect for kids. And this is on the house. Give her one when she's better as thanks."
In the bag with the vials was a colorful striped candy. Barely muttering thanks, I dashed home again, plowing through the mud.
Back at the Home, the living room was still silent. Parents must've gone off drinking already—no sign of them. A relief, really. I kicked off my soaked shoes haphazardly and raced to the kitchen.
Medicine secured, but no way I'd give strong stuff on an empty stomach. I lit the kitchen fire. Rifling the pantry, I found leftover rice from yesterday and one potato.
I chopped with utmost care. Diced the potato tiny, washed the rice, and dumped it in the pot. Acrid smoke rose from the kindling, but I stirred through watering eyes.
Just a bit longer, Psyche.
The porridge bubbled, its scent filling the kitchen. I usually cooked just to survive, but now I was more serious than any top chef. Worried about lumps choking her, I mashed the potatoes over and over with the ladle.
When it turned fluffy, I scooped some into a small bowl, blew to cool it, and headed to the room. Psyche had kicked off the blanket, moaning and tossing.
"Psyche, sister's back. C'mon, wake up a little. Eat just a bit of this first, then medicine. Pills on empty tummy hurt worse."
I propped up the dazed Psyche against my chest. Her body scorched through her damp clothes, searing my skin. I spooned the lovingly boiled potato porridge, blew, and held it to her lips.
"Here, ahh~. Made it yummy just for you. Gotta eat to get strong, right?"
Appetite gone, she shook her head, but my pleading eyes won out. She took it bit by bit. One spoonful, two... After half the bowl, I opened the vial. The bitter smell filled the room; she instinctively wrinkled her nose.
"No... don't wanna..."
"Eat this, and tomorrow we go to the Bakery for Pizza Bread and Deli Manju, okay? Be good—just close your eyes and swallow once."
"Okay..."
Psyche squeezed her eyes shut and gulped it down.
"Good girl."
Done with the medicine, she burrowed deeper into my arms. I slipped the Apothecary's candy between her lips, fetched a fresh cold cloth, and wiped her body tenderly.
Under my care, Psyche stared at my face through her hazy mind. Tears welled in her eyes, and a small, frail voice leaked out.
"Sister... am I... making things hard for you...? I'm sorry... I don't want to worry you... I'm really glad I met you... Wanted to say thanks since yesterday..."
Her sincere words stabbed my heart. Seeing Psyche so grateful for basic kindness, like it was a life debt—it broke me. Stroking her hair, I said,
"Psyche, medicine's in you now—sleep deep and you'll be better soon. Once you're well, like I promised yesterday, we'll head to the Village together."
I wanted her to look forward to tomorrow with me.
"We'll window-shop pretty clothes, watch the square performances, and I'll buy whatever you want."
Psyche nodded weakly, clutching my hand tighter.
"The Village... with sister... I wanna go... holding your hand..."
"Yeah, we'll go together. Sister'll make you the happiest in the world."
Whether from the medicine, warm porridge, or my promise, her ragged breaths steadied. I laid her down gently, lay beside her, and held her tiny hand tight.
Thank goodness... really, thank goodness. That was close.
Tension released, my muscles slackened, deep fatigue crashing in. The round trip through rain, frantic cooking—it all hit at once. Gently brushing her sweat-damp silver hair aside, confirming her fever dropping, I too fell into deep sleep.
Outside, the rain thickened, its steady patter on the roof like a lullaby.
This little one's warmth beside me brought a strange peace and sense of duty I'd never known in my past life. The road back to Earth is long and rough, but for now, seeing her smile again—that's my top goal.
You really deserve it, Psyche. Saintess or not, to me, you're the most precious little sister in the world.