Chapter 42: Heartbreaking Truth and Sisterly Sorrow

“Sigh… Damn it…”

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. How could someone make such an absurd mistake?

Honestly, I did look more like a corpse than a frail beauty. The frail beauties I know don’t look like critical patients on the verge of death.

But human thoughts can be deceptively cunning.

When you think a cold is the flu, your body starts aching. When you believe your leg is broken, even if it’s not, you can’t put strength in it. It’s no different.

I believed God when he said he made me look “frail.”

Oh, this is what frail looks like. In this world, looking like a corpse is frail. Despite instinctively knowing it wasn’t, I kept brainwashing myself into accepting it.

And now? He says it was a mistake that I look like a corpse?

“This is a scam contract. I thought it was too good to be true.”

[Sorry. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I poured divine power daily to adjust the settings, and helping you wasn’t to cover my mistake.]

“Then you should’ve told me earlier or fixed it perfectly before this blew up. How am I supposed to take it when you say this after everything?”

[…Can’t you let it slide just once?]

“Why’s a higher being so slick-tongued? Didn’t you grandly lecture me about penalties for breaking promises during our ‘agreement’?”

God sighed, speaking in a hollow tone.

[What do you want?]

“Nothing now. I’ll save it for later.”

A crisis needing God’s power will come someday, so I’ll claim his compensation for breaking the contract then.

“…Now that I think about it, isn’t now a crisis? Should I use it?”

[If you want, I can slightly distort the test results as compensation.]

“Shut up. I’ve got better uses for it. I’ll keep it.”

[Tch.]

After talking with God, I checked the clock—7 a.m. The “brief” dream stint lasted longer than expected. Tests are soon, so Ji Yoon will probably come in.

“No matter what, avoiding the ‘sick’ assumption will be tough, but I have to dodge long-term hospitalization.”

I don’t care about anything else—I need to go home. The hospital’s nutritional porridge is disgusting, and being here drains my energy, leaving me unable to do anything.

Plus, only two days remain in my novel’s hiatus. I have zero drafts and no outlines—a desperate situation. Given my readers’ aggressive tendencies, not posting after the hiatus could lead to unimaginable chaos.

As I thought about avoiding hospitalization, the door opened for my checkup. Ji Yoon approached with a grim expression.

“Sis? It’s time. Let’s go for the checkup.”

“Ji Yoon, do we really have to? Will it make you feel better if I get tested?”

Hoping she’d change her mind, I asked reluctantly, but her resolve was unshakable.

“I’m always worried about you. You say you’re not sick, but knowing your condition for sure would ease my mind.”

“We checked last time. It said I was fine.”

“That was then, this is now. Can you guarantee your condition is the same?”

My prepared rebuttal died. My last checkup was pre-penalty, when I was healthy. Now, with penalties piling up, my heart’s in tatters.

“See? You can’t say anything because you know it’s true. I’m not budging, so—”

Ji Yoon grabbed my hands, her voice trembling with a plea.

“Just once. If it’s fine this time, I won’t ask again… Can’t you do it just once?”

With such a heartfelt plea, I couldn’t refuse. I gave in.

“Sigh… Fine. Let’s go.”

What could go wrong?

—

About an hour after my sister went for her checkup, a doctor approached me with a stern face.

“Guardian, please come with me.”

“It’s hard to discuss here. Follow me.”

Bracing myself at the doctor’s grave expression, I followed him into a room.

“Sigh… I don’t know where to start. Guardian, have you seen the patient coughing up blood?”

“Yes, she occasionally coughs up blood and clutches her chest like it hurts.”

“Why didn’t you bring her to the hospital?”

“…She refused. She said she’s fine, that it’s nothing, so I couldn’t force her.”

I begged her to go to the hospital after seeing her cough blood, but she always smiled softly and refused, saying, “Hospitals are for sick people, and I’m not sick,” quietly dismissing me.

“I suppose it’s natural she didn’t want to come. Who wants to waste money on a pointless visit?”

“What do you mean?”

“From what you’ve said, she’s been hiding her pain. How she managed that is a mystery.”

The doctor handed me a document and continued.

“See the image? That barely resembles a heart—it’s your sister’s.”

How do I describe it? Like the ruins of an abandoned building? The image showed her heart, barely holding its shape, in tatters.

“A normal person would feel excruciating pain just moving, but hiding that level of pain? I don’t know whether to call her remarkable or foolish.”

“Can it… be treated?”

“That’s why I said she didn’t come—why waste money just to die? Unless a god of medicine intervenes, modern science can’t fix a heart this bad.”

“She has to live in pain forever?”

Cautiously asking, the doctor paused, then handed me another document.

“She has less than a month left. She likely knows, so she chose to live freely outside, pain or not, over being confined here.”

“…Tell me it’s a lie.”

“Doctors are told to tell white lies sometimes. I disagree. Knowing the truth lets you make the most of the time left.”

With a bitter smile, he continued.

“I’m sorry about your sister, but I hope you make the most of her remaining month.”

“There’s really no way? This is too cruel! After endless suffering, she finally starts living happily, and now she has a month left at best…”

“It’s almost time for the patient to finish. Crying in front of her isn’t wise. Let’s stop here. I’ll go meet her.”

The doctor patted my back consolingly and left. Alone in the room, I couldn’t hold back my grief.

Isn’t the world too cruel to her?

Missing for two years, she returned battered. Just as she enjoyed brief peace, someone approached her, pushing her already short life to the brink.

What did she do to deserve this? Why must she endure endless pain? She’s just an ordinary person.

The doctor doesn’t know she has a pain suppression condition. That means she endured pain far beyond what he described.

“…Was my worrying that unbearable?”

All my actions flooded back.

Forcing cohabitation to “protect” her, despite her wanting to pass quietly without burdening anyone.

Taking her to our parents, despite her physical strain.

Bringing home a stray cat she wanted, despite her heart making breathing hard, letting fur fly everywhere.

Forcing her, barely able to move, to stream with me out of my own greed.

Everything I did added weight, dragging me into despair.

How selfish must someone be to make such disgusting choices? I’m a vile person, no doubt.

“Ugh…”

Nausea rose from self-loathing, barely contained, when the door opened, and someone approached.

“You’re extra teary today. Bad news?”

“Sis…”

“Your makeup’s all smudged. What’ll we do if your ugly face gets uglier?”

She smiled warmly, ruffling my hair and joking, just like always when I cried. Despite memory loss, her habitual action broke the last thread of my emotions, and I collapsed into her arms.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sis…”

“What’s there to be sorry for? I don’t even know why you’re crying.”

“It’s… all my fault…”

In her cold, frail, yet warmer-than-anything embrace, I cried until exhaustion took me, and I fell asleep.