Chapter 71: [SUDDEN VISIT]

Eli’s stomach dropped, his breath stuttering hard in his chest.

’I can’t believe he heard that! Has he been listening the whole time?’

His mouth opened, desperate to get the words out—but nothing came. His throat burned raw, every syllable caught like barbed wire.

Only a rasp escaped, a shallow scrape of air.

His chest heaved violently, each breath dragging fire across his ribs, the echo of suffocation clawing through his lungs.

’Come on. Speak. Say something. Anything.’

But silence was all he could give.

The monitor betrayed him again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Each pulse of sound rang louder, sharper, like it was mocking him.

Kairo’s crimson gaze narrowed—not cruel, not angry, but sharp enough to cut bone.

Under that stare, Eli felt flayed open, as if every failed attempt to speak, every scream trapped in his chest, was laid bare for Kairo to see.

Then—without a word—Kairo moved.

The scrape of metal legs against tile cut through the sterile quiet like a blade. With one hand, he dragged the chair from the corner, the motion steady, deliberate.

He set it down beside the bed and lowered himself into it, posture deceptively casual—leaning back, arms folding across his chest.

Yet there was weight in it. A presence so heavy it seemed to fill every corner of the room, suffocating in its own way.

“You can’t speak.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact.

Not a question.

A declaration.

Eli’s pulse spiked, blood rushing in his ears. He forced himself to nod, slow, stiff, the wires on his body shifting faintly with the movement.

Kairo hummed low, almost thoughtful, like he’d just confirmed a theory. “Then… nod or shake your head. That should be enough.”

Eli swallowed hard, his throat still raw, his eyes fixed on Kairo with wary tension.

The S-Class leaned back further, one leg stretching out, posture loose in a way that clashed with the intensity burning behind his gaze.

“First things first,” Kairo said, tone deceptively casual, almost conversational—like he was asking about the weather. “Are you feeling okay?”

The question blindsided Eli. For a moment, his body locked up. Then—hesitantly—he nodded.

Kairo mirrored the nod once, calm and unsurprised. “Good.”

’Good?’ Eli blinked, disoriented by the simplicity of it.

But then the atmosphere shifted.

Kairo’s voice was still calm, still measured—but now it carried weight.

Steel, hidden beneath velvet.

“I’ll be direct.”

The words dropped like a blade, and Eli’s chest tightened instantly.

“Did you go to Caelen and the Lion’s Fang Guild yourself?”

The question cut the air, sharp and merciless.

Eli’s eyes widened. ’Is that why he’s here? To ask about Caelen? Is he just like Caelen—competitive?’

His head shook before he could think twice.

It wasn’t a lie. There was no harm in saying it.

Kairo didn’t even blink. His head tilted slightly, crimson eyes narrowing just a fraction, as if the response only confirmed something he had already known.

“So… it’s true then.” His voice was calm, even—but there was a cold finality in it, as though he had already passed judgment. “You were kidnapped.”

The air in Eli’s lungs froze.

’How does he know this?’

His thoughts stumbled, messy, frantic. ’Even if it’s true… why does he care?’

He hesitated.

For a flicker of a moment, he considered staying silent, considered turning away. But Kairo’s eyes—those endless, black eyes—were too sharp.

Too knowing.

They stripped away hesitation like peeling skin.

There was no point lying.

Slowly—hesitantly—Eli nodded.

There was silence again.

The steady beeping of the monitor filled the room, each pulse a reminder of Eli’s hammering heartbeat. The quiet wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy, suffocating, pressing down like another weight on his chest.

Eli shifted slightly under the sheets, but the wires tugged against his skin, anchoring him. He felt trapped.

Awkward didn’t even begin to describe it.

Kairo sat across from him, crimson gaze lowered, the faintest furrow in his brow as if deep in thought. The stillness of his posture clashed with the storm Eli imagined brewing beneath the surface.

Eli couldn’t read him. He couldn’t even guess what was going on behind those eyes. ’Why is he even here? Why would someone like him come to see me again? Is it really just going to ask about Caelen?’

The silence stretched. Seconds dragged like hours. Eli’s throat tightened, his mind screaming for sound, for anything to break the unbearable weight of it.

’And now he’s not saying anything anymore? What the hell is going on in his head?’

Eli blinked. And blinked again. His lashes twitched with how often he was forcing the movement, desperate for something to ground him.

Anything to hide the fact that his nerves were eating him alive.

But Kairo didn’t move. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t even shift his shoulders. He was carved stone, a presence that filled the entire room without lifting a single finger.

’What is he thinking about?’

Eli’s chest rose and fell sharply, the sound of his breathing embarrassingly loud in the sterile quiet. His pulse leapt every time the monitor betrayed him.

Finally—after what felt like an eternity—Kairo lifted his gaze. The crimson cut into him like a blade, sharp and unwavering.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, even—but there was a weight behind it that made Eli’s stomach twist.

“Are you aware,” Kairo asked slowly, each word deliberate, “that Caelen took all the credit for clearing the dungeon?”

The question landed like a strike, and Eli’s brow furrowed instantly, confusion spilling across his face.

’Caelen took all the credit?’

Eli’s pulse stuttered, the words echoing in his head like a gong.

“The moment the dungeon was cleared,” Kairo said, his tone calm but edged with steel, “Caelen announced he had singlehandedly defeated the boss. However…”

His eyes narrowed, cutting through Eli like fire across glass. “I am confident that was not the case. Knowing his abilities—and knowing a few things about yours—it is obvious to me you contributed far more than he led on.”

Eli blinked, his throat tight.

Well. Honestly… knowing Caelen now—the real Caelen—this wasn’t surprising at all. In his perspective, it made perfect sense.

A claim like that would skyrocket him to the front pages. Clearing a dungeon alone would put him neck-and-neck with Kairo’s recent viral footage—the kind that showed him leading his team against the ogres.

’Of course he’d do it. He lives for that spotlight.’

Eli wasn’t after credit, though. He wasn’t after glory.

Fame, recognition—none of that mattered to him, not when survival itself was the real battle.

So… he didn’t really care.

Kairo’s brows furrowed, his sharp gaze tightening. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Eli shook his head once. Small. Firm. ’Because I don’t mind.’

That only deepened the lines in Kairo’s face. His voice lowered, a rumble carrying both disbelief and frustration. “Why? That was an S-Class dungeon. Do you understand what that means? Do you realize how few Hunters can even claim—”

“My, it seems you’re more bothered about it than he is, Kairo.”

The new voice slid into the room like a knife through silk.

Eli jolted hard, his shoulders tensing against the pillows. His head whipped toward the doorway instinctively, heart hammering.

Kairo, however, didn’t so much as twitch. He didn’t turn, didn’t flinch. It was as though he had already known.

A shadow stretched across the sterile floor.

Eli’s breath hitched.

’Caelen…?’

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