A Story Not in the Book
"It hurts, it hurts… But I have to do it. If I can't even manage this, I can't do anything! Nao went so far for me… and yet here I am… Ah, but it hurts… It hurts so much, it hurts!!"
"Sion!"
The trembling in her hands had already spread throughout her entire body. I grabbed her convulsing shoulders, her eyes wide open but unfocused, and checked her condition.
"Ah, aaah…!"
How could this happen… A trauma-induced seizure? We weren't even talking about the war—we were just discussing wheelchair driving practice. Could it really escalate like this? Unlike last time with the Iri trauma, where it was a surge of grief and guilt that could be left alone, this was different. A seizure tied to physical pain needed to be stopped immediately; it was dangerous.
People suffering trauma-induced seizures were usually incredibly hard to handle, but luckily, this was a fantasy world. I could resolve it simply like this…
"Sleep."
⟨ Sleep ⟩
A curse-type spell that puts the target to sleep. It had no lethality or practicality, so it was low-priority, but I'd raised it nearly to mastery.
"It hurts, it huuuurts…"
"?"
What? Even at near-max level, there was no effect on Sion. Complete immunity to curses? Because she was the hero?
"Hahk, haaah…"
Sion was still showing signs of panic. If mental magic didn't work, I'd have to calm her the old-fashioned way.
"Sion. Pull yourself together. It doesn't hurt."
When dealing with someone in a panic seizure, I couldn't panic myself. Speak quietly, no shouting. If the person nearby gets anxious too, it amplifies the patient's emotions negatively.
"No more practice for now. Come out of there."
I slid my hand under her side, lifting her from the wheelchair—the presumed source of her anxiety—and into my arms. With no strength left in her body, as I lifted her from sitting, her arms draped over my shoulders, her full weight leaning into me.
"Haa, haa, haa…"
"It doesn't hurt, so relax. Breathe easy."
I gently patted her back as she nestled in my arms. I could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath against me.
"How's that? No pain at all, right? Trust me. I'll make you better, no question."
"……."
I had to keep talking calmly, reassuring her nonstop. I might not be her rock, but anyone in this fragile state clings to whoever's there. As I kept at it, her breathing gradually slowed—thank goodness, she was calming down.
"Director Hope…"
"Feeling better? If you are, take a deeper breath. Focus on fully relaxing. I'll do it too—together. Hooo… haaa… hooo… haaaa…"
"Haaaa…"
For a moment, we did deep breathing together, me holding her close, matching rhythms—in and out. Our chests pressed together made it hard to breathe deeply, but we persisted, breathing big and slow. After a while, I lifted the hand stroking her back to her neck, checking her pulse.
'This should be okay now.'
Still a bit high, but slowing steadily. She was pulling out of the panic, finding stability.
"Sion. I'm going to set you down now. That okay?"
"Just a little… a little longer…"
"Pardon?"
"Hoooo… haaaa…"
Her arms had no strength, but I felt them faintly wrapping around me. Caught off guard, I missed a breath, but she kept deep-breathing on her own.
"……."
I decided to just hold her quietly and wait. Every time I lifted her, I was struck by how astonishingly light she was—muscles gone, just bones. But that made her softness all the more vivid, the warmth of blood pulsing through her veins right under her skin.
"Okay, put me down now."
After what felt like an eternity of silence, head spinning, she asked to be set down, so I placed her back in the wheelchair.
"Sorry you saw me like that again—embarrassing."
"It's fine. Glad you're calm now."
I needed to adjust my view of her condition. I'd assumed the hero's mentality was unbreakable despite her broken body, and the Iri trauma was unavoidable since it tied to a comrade's death. But this? A seizure from wheelchair practice talk. If she'd actually failed pressure control, gotten flung, and hit a wall—that kind of physical agony would indeed scar deep. Horrifying to even imagine… But this needed a more fundamental approach.
'Among what she said earlier, there was definitely something like, "If I can't even do this, I'm nothing." That desperate clinging to the wheelchair despite the pain… maybe because…'
"Still, don't get the wrong idea."
Lost in thought, Sion suddenly spoke up.
"Huh? Wrong idea about what?"
"Th-that… I…"
She dropped her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers.
"When I said 'a little longer,' it wasn't… like, anything weird…"
Asked to be held? Oh, that "just a little more" bit.
"It's been so long since I was that close to someone… Haha, people are warm. I thought maybe it'd help if you held me a bit more…"
"Sion."
"Y-yes?!"
A girl who'd just suffered a trauma panic over something so trivial. Time to correct both her self-view and how she saw me.
"When you panicked earlier, I lifted you from the wheelchair to separate you from the trigger. What do you think of that?"
"What do I think…?"
She averted her eyes, embarrassed, then tilted her head, confused.
"Was it appropriate medical procedure?"
"Exactly. Sion, if I saw you that way, I couldn't have handled it like that. I know you've naturally been loved by everyone…"
She was more beautiful, brave, good, strong, and cool than anyone. But hold on—loved by all, sure, but…
"Wait, Sion. So you're saying people have seen you romantically sometimes?"
"Of course?"
"'Of course'? Your self-esteem is sky-high."
"I used to think that too. Probably all in my head."
The original novel had zero romance, not even hints. Her condition aside… How much more was implemented here beyond the book?
"But Hanamana always said stuff like, 'I'm probably wrong since I'm just Hanamana, but that guy seems to be looking at Sion weird…' And Hanamana's never wrong. Those types always confess right before leaving. Iri would chew them out and chase them off. What a bunch…"
Any side characters like that in the novel? I racked my brain, but nothing. It'd been over 20 years since I last read it—only the main hero party stuck in memory; extras were blanks.
"Come to think of it, weren't you my comrade? How don't you know?"
"Well… This was after I traveled with you."
"Hmm, guess having a guy in the party prevents that. Men are more cowardly than I thought?"
Cowardly? Well, thinking 'All girls, so safe to confess' did feel spineless. But that wasn't the point now—I had to make it crystal clear.
"Anyway, Sion. I get you're attractive, but if you think I'm looking at you that way, that's a problem."
I wasn't—really—and it was a problem, so I said it firmly. But it pricked my conscience anyway. She couldn't imagine how I actually saw her.
"I'm your doctor. I only do what's needed to heal you. If you can't even ask to be held without worrying about 'misunderstandings,' how can we treat you? Sure, hugs won't come up often in rehab, but… you get the idea?"
Posture corrections, muscle checks like last time, exams—physical contact was inevitable. And until Serin arrived from the kingdom, I'd be handling her care. If she refused over dumb misunderstandings, it'd be a nightmare.
"……."
She got it now, surely. I'd been a bit stern, like scolding a kid, and she looked down, hands clasped on her lap, fingers twisting sullenly.
"Got it. Sorry for the dumb comment."
"Good. Glad that's settled. We nearly had a disaster."
"Yeah… Sorry. And thank you."
"Cut that too. Sion. I'm the doctor, you're the patient. Being sick isn't your fault, and my care isn't some huge favor. Thanking me every time stalls everything."
"……."
Was I pushing too hard? But with two years of treatment ahead, setting boundaries was essential. Plus, seeing her pout like a scolded child—always so righteous, just, strong, and proud—this vulnerable side was a treat only I could savor.
"Anyway, time to head out. Never been late in three years running the center—first time today."
"Th-that…"
"Gonna say sorry again?"
"Yeees…"
"Alright, Sion. Repeat after me: 'Being sick isn't my fault.'"
"Being sick isn't my fault."
"Good. Let's go for real."
She nodded silently. The unexpected delay meant chaos at the center, but more than that…
'How the hell has Sion survived the three years post-ending?'
Post-canon events triggering seizures? I'd only seen up to the novel's end. What impact had the aftermath had on her psyche? Anyway, the morning commotion—seizure and misunderstanding sorted—we headed to the center to start proper rehab.