Sion's Night (2)
"Please take good care of us today, Director."
"You too—let's have a good shift."
The news that I was on night duty tonight had spread properly, it seemed. The nurse maids in the duty room greeted me without any surprise as I walked in.
"But, Doctor... is there a reason you're suddenly taking the night shift?"
"That room 104..."
I started to answer their curious question about why I'd volunteered for duty on such short notice, but then it hit me. I had to stop myself mid-sentence.
What I was planning was to check what Sion did before falling asleep. There had been weird rumors about our relationship before, and if I phrased it poorly, it could spark pointless misunderstandings again.
"Room 104... you mean the Hero?"
Ugh, I'd hesitated too late. That's why you have to think before you speak... No, actually, what I was about to do was legitimate medical work. There was no reason to feel shady about it, so I decided to just say it outright.
The rehab center didn't run an emergency room, so night shifts mostly involved the nurse maids handling tasks while the doctor stayed on standby for emergencies. I could spend plenty of time checking on Sion without issue, which was why I'd volunteered—and planned to look in on her during the shift.
Still, if I was gone too long visiting her, the staff might get suspicious, so it was probably better to be upfront.
"Yeah, Sion. She might have buff addiction, so I'm monitoring her for psychological changes at night."
"Ah... I see."
I ended up being honest, but the nurse maids just tilted their heads, looking puzzled.
"But Doctor, couldn't you just ask her directly? Like, if she's feeling depressed...?"
"She doesn't seem to want to answer."
"Oh? The Hero?"
I'd never actually asked Sion, but I wasn't lying. It was my prediction that she wouldn't want to talk about it.
"Even the Hero doesn't want to say?"
"Right? Who knew she had things she didn't want to share even with you."
The very idea that Sion had refused something seemed so out of character that the nurse maids started swapping stories about her behavior.
"She's just too nice to everyone. Even when patients or staff pester her, she always smiles and chats."
"Exactly. People just want a glimpse of the Hero, but for her, it's nonstop hassle from crowds every day—and she never shows a hint of annoyance."
"Her room gets visitor requests all day long. Just 'let us see her' for no real reason."
"We told her she could refuse visits, but she insisted on not..."
"The director says her condition is really unstable when he asks for staff cooperation. But to us, she seems fine."
"It's actually a relief to know she can say no."
These were stories I'd never heard from Sion herself—a nonstop stream of new insights. All this was happening during my treatment hours? I knew she'd gotten close to patients and staff since checking in, but taking visitors too?
"Runi, Maya."
"Yes, Director."
"Reject all visitor requests for Sion from now on. Say it's my order."
"Ah, got it..."
"Should we tell the Hero too?"
"No, I'll handle Sion myself."
"Yes, sir."
She showed no signs of social phobia or anything like it so far, but I wasn't about to let stressful situations pile up on her. Civilians visiting? That was ridiculous.
Anyway, with the staff briefed, what next? Lights-out was coming soon for the whole hospital. Should I head to Sion's room once the lights went down? My goal tonight was to observe if her emotions took a dangerous turn once she was alone in the dark.
Going after she fell asleep might be pointless. So, the timing had to be just before bed... but 'Is there even a way to watch her without her noticing?'
She was in a single room, so I'd have to enter or peek through the window. Her bed was by the window, and it was on the first floor—perfect for spying from outside. But if she caught me staring from the window, how the hell would I explain that? Peeking from the door was straight-up creepy; I'd be done for.
Maybe I should just assume she'd spot me anyway, since I had to check before bed. Better to come up with a reason for entering her room outright.
"Lights out soon~"
The nurse maids patrolled the halls announcing it, and moments later, every light in the hospital dimmed to the bare minimum.
I couldn't risk her falling asleep first, so I headed straight to room 104, planning to slip in quietly and check her status.
"Hoo..."
I steadied my breath and gripped the door handle. I was on night rounds. Just checking patient rooms, including hers. It wasn't like Serin had warned me off— it'd be fine.
Click.
I turned the handle and stepped in naturally. No reaction from Sion. Hadn't noticed me yet, or already asleep?
Clink, clatter, click, rattle-rattle...
'Hm?'
A metallic clashing sound came from Sion's bed—irregular and rapid. What could make a noise like that? I watched quietly; she still didn't stir, and the sounds kept coming erratically.
"...Sion?"
I called softly, but no response. Damn, had she dozed off already? This defeated the purpose of pulling the shift...
Clank-clank, rattle-rattle-rattle...
Up close, she was huddled under the covers, facing away toward the window, clutching something tightly and trembling. The metallic sounds seemed to come from whatever she was holding.
'What the hell? What's she hugging to sleep?'
Did she always sleep with that racket? If it disturbed her rest, I'd want to fix it somehow. But whatever it was stayed hidden under the blanket.
"Doctor... no, Dr. Hope... please..."
She mumbled in her sleep without moving, still curled up. Was she dreaming about me? What was I doing in her dream to make her beg like that...?
Her trembling intensified with the murmurs, and the clashing grew louder. She might wake up at this rate. I didn't know what she was holding, but I wanted to pry it away and stop the noise.
'What could it be?'
I lifted the blanket slightly—and there, in her arms, was...
'Ah, that's...'
A sword. Probably the Holy Sword. Sheathed, it rattled in her embrace as she shook.
A habit of sleeping with the Holy Sword clutched tight. From the original story. Essential on the battlefield, where demons could strike anytime.
If this habit dated back to the war, her warnings to stay away at night weren't because...
'Pulling this from her arms would mean certain death. I need to get out—now.'
Sudden disturbances while asleep could trigger an attack. I gently lowered the blanket and slipped out as quietly as possible.
I hadn't caught her pre-sleep like planned, but I'd gleaned valuable info on her state. A silver lining.
'More work ahead. Add to the night duty memo: if anything's off with Sion after lights-out, don't touch her—call me. And...'
Somehow quiet that noise. Prime Sion wouldn't have rattled like this, but now it probably ruined her rest. And those weird dreams...
'How to fix it...'
I needed to break the habit so she could sleep comfortably—without her realizing I'd watched her. I'd mull it over during the rest of the shift.
"Sion. Here—take this."
It was the weekend heading into week 8 of her rehab. She blinked wide-eyed in surprise as I handed over the large gift, wrapped in paper bag.
"Huh? What's this?"
"It's a present, so just take it."
"A present? Out of nowhere?"
"Today marks 50 days since we met."
The gift was something to help her sleep better—picked with extra care. And yeah, it really was day 50, so no awkwardness there.
"A commemorative day out of the blue... I didn't prepare anything."
"The receiver never has to."
"But I always just receive from you, Dr. Hope... I should've thought of something for once, but here I am taking again."
Her personality made pampering her exhausting sometimes. But soothing and convincing this Sion had become routine.
"People don't usually mark days like this. Just accept it comfortably."
"I guess I never even considered it..."
"As long as you're happy, that's enough. I figured an unexpected gift would make you even more thrilled."
"Then... should I?"
Finally, her genuine smile. She carefully tore open the paper wrapping to reveal the contents.
"A doll?"
"More precisely, a cushion. For hugging in bed."
"Oh, how cute! A ladybug?"
A round half-moon ladybug cushion. After agonizing over her habit, this was my solution.
"In my hometown, legend says ladybugs land on the sick and fly away carrying their illness. It's for your quick recovery—so use it every night. Got it?"
"Dr. Hope..."
The legend was actually French folklore. France wasn't my real hometown, but hey—in another world, my past life counted.
"Thank you. Really... I never saw this coming."
She hugged the ladybug cushion close, looking touched. Hopefully enough to make it special. It couldn't fully replace the Holy Sword, but hugging both might muffle the noise. Softer than metal, too.
Anyway, seeing her so pleased was a relief. Though I was tempted to verify if she'd use it at night—another shift?
"Wow, it's so soft!"
She loved it, hoisting it high to "eye" the ladybug, squishing to test the texture, squeezing tight—playing with it every way imaginable.
Watching her joy, I suddenly felt no need to check. Absolute trust she'd use my gift as suggested. That certainty had rooted deep inside me, unshakeable.