The Boy Who Walks Beyond The End-Chapter 41: A Heart That Waited

A soft, warm light poured through the tall windows of the infirmary as the chirping of birds faintly echoed beyond the arched glass panes. The sterile scent of herbs and potions lingered gently in the air, and the room was still—peaceful, but heavy.

Zen's eyelashes twitched.

Slowly, his fingers curled.

With a faint groan, Zen opened his eyes, the light momentarily blinding. His vision slowly adjusted, and above him, the ceiling came into focus—clean, white with golden inlays—a design unique to the academy's infirmary. His head felt oddly heavy, like a fog wrapped tightly around his thoughts. He blinked slowly.

Then he turned slightly—and saw her.

Lyra.

She sat beside his bed on a chair, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her knees, face buried in them. Her silver-blue hair draped down like a curtain, messy and untied. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying. Her uniform was slightly wrinkled as though she hadn't moved from that spot in hours.

Zen's lips parted, a whisper escaping.

"...Lyra?"

She jerked up instantly, eyes wide with disbelief. For a heartbeat, she just stared, frozen. Then—

"Zen...!" Her voice cracked.

Tears brimmed in her ocean-colored eyes once more as she launched forward, stumbling a little before catching herself on the side of the bed. Her hands clutched the sheets beside him.

"You finally woke up... idiot..."

Her voice trembled. Zen tried to lift himself, but his muscles felt weak. Lyra quickly stopped him with a soft push on his chest.

"No—stay still... You've been asleep for a full day..." she whispered, her tone a mix of relief and frustration.

Zen's brows drew together faintly. "A whole... day?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "You collapsed in the training hall. Someone found you unconscious... the healers said it was overexertion—mental and physical fatigue. You haven't been sleeping properly, have you?" She tried to sound scolding, but her voice was shaking.

Zen looked away, unable to answer.

And then, suddenly—Lyra moved.

Without a word, she leaned down and hugged him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her body trembling as she pressed her forehead gently against his chest.

"You dummy..." she muttered, voice cracking. "I told you not to overthink so much. Why can't you just take care of yourself for once...?"

Zen froze. The warmth of her hug, the shake in her words... the scent of her hair... everything struck him at once. He'd never heard her so fragile. Not playful. Not teasing. Just... hurt.

He slowly raised one arm—still heavy from exhaustion—and gently placed it on her back.

"...Sorry."

She didn't reply. She just stayed there, holding him tightly, as though afraid he'd vanish again if she let go.

For the first time in a while, Zen didn't think about mana cores... or spirits... or ancient gods.

He just listened to the sound of her breathing, to the heartbeat pressed gently against him.

---

Just as Lyra was about to pull away, the door to the infirmary creaked open.

Footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor.

A familiar voice followed.

"Well, well..."

Lyra froze. Zen blinked.

They both turned toward the door—and there stood Princess Arisella Vaelith, clad in her elegant academy uniform, a subtle smirk playing on her lips and a glint of amusement in her violet eyes.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing mischievously. "Ah, what a heartwarming sight... a loyal knight and a worried maiden... How romantic."

Lyra instantly shot up straight, her face going bright red. "I-It's not like that!"

Zen, still lying down, looked mildly surprised but didn't flinch.

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Arisella covered her lips with the back of her hand, feigning innocence. "Oh dear, did I interrupt something private? My apologies. I definitely didn't see anything. Please, do carry on." She turned, walking back toward the door, her long silver-blonde hair swaying as she added playfully, "Just pretend I was never here."

Lyra stomped her foot lightly, embarrassed. "Wait! I didn't fall on him on purpose! I—I tripped, alright!? I just tripped! Don't get the wrong idea!"

Arisella peeked over her shoulder with a raised brow. "Ah... so romantic and clumsy. How very poetic."

Zen couldn't help but let out a quiet breath—whether it was a sigh or a soft chuckle, even he didn't know.

The teasing faded as Arisella walked closer to his bedside again, this time with sincerity in her expression. "Jokes aside... are you alright, Zen?"

Zen nodded gently. "Yeah. I feel better now. Just... tired."

She smiled warmly. "That's a relief. You scared a few people, you know. When you can walk again, come to the Nourishment Hall. I'll be waiting there—with both of you."

With a subtle wink to Lyra and a flick of her wrist, she turned and left.

Moments later, the door opened again—this time, Fiora, the Aetherion Class representative, entered with Sylvia Yoshin, the quiet yet sharp-eyed girl from the training hall.

Fiora walked in briskly, her long braid bouncing behind her. "Zen, Get well soon. You've got classes to catch up on."

Sylvia followed behind, arms crossed. "He's fine. Just drained."

Zen nodded at both of them. "Sorry. And... thanks for coming."

Sylvia's gaze softened just slightly. "Tch. You better not collapse after a duel next time."

With that, both girls left, the door clicking softly behind them.

Lyra glanced at Zen, arms crossed and a jealousy glint in her eyes. "You sure made a lot of female friends."

Zen looked at her, expression calm. "...They're not friends. We just met... randomly."

Lyra raised a brow, hiding a smirk. "Mm-hm. Randomly, huh?"

He didn't reply.

Later that day, when Zen could walk properly again, he and Lyra made their way to the Nourishment Hall, where Arisella greeted them with a plate of sweets and a smirk that never quite left her lips. The three shared a light lunch together. Conversation flowed, jokes passed between bites, and the heaviness from earlier faded, if only for a while.

Eventually, Zen returned to his dorm room. Both he and Lyra had skipped the remaining classes. She had insisted on staying with him most of the time, and he didn't protest.

Now, alone in the quiet of his dorm, Zen lay back on his bed, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling above.

His mind wandered.

When I fainted...

He remembered it—right before the darkness swallowed him.

A strange, thick black fog.

It hadn't felt like a dream. It was cold. Heavy. Alive.

Was it just exhaustion warping his senses?

A hallucination?

A misunderstanding?

...Or something more?

Zen's brows furrowed slightly as a chill ran down his spine.

He closed his eyes, the image of the black fog lingering in the back of his mind—vivid and unshakable.

Something about it didn't feel like mere illusion.

Something... was watching