Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece
Chapter 127: The Confession [6]

Lila had fallen asleep. Curled up on her side with the coloring book still in her arms.

One hand rested on a half-colored dragon. As if she didn't want to let go even in her dreams.

Mira leaned over and carefully tucked the blanket around her.

She brushed a bit of hair away from Lila's face and kissed her forehead.

Her movements were soft and full of care. Like every small action carried a promise.

Kyle waited near the door, not wanting to break the quiet.

When they stepped out into the hallway. The soft hospital lights buzzed above them.

The air smelled the same. Clean. Cold. But now it felt heavier.

Like the silence left behind had followed them out.

Outside. The sun was low in the sky. The breeze was cool, and the first hint of night crept in around the buildings.

People walked past them without noticing, heading home or talking on phones. The world kept moving.

Mira stopped on the sidewalk. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie, her shoulders hunched against the wind.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was raw, quiet, but steady.

"You have no idea what today meant to her."

Kyle stared at the ground. Then looked up. "It wasn't a big deal."

Mira shook her head. "It was."

She looked up at the sky for a second. Like she was trying to hold something back. Then she looked at him again.

"She doesn't get good days anymore," she said softly. "But today… today was a good day."

Kyle didn't know what to say to that. His throat felt tight.

His hands were still in his pockets, clenched without him realizing it.

So he just nodded.

And Mira smiled. A tired, thankful smile that said more than words could.

———

[Next Day]

Kyle walked down the long hallway of the Academy's Instructor Office Building.

His footsteps echoed against the polished marble floors. The sound sharp in the quiet afternoon.

Tall windows lined the corridor. Letting in sunlight that spilled across the floor in long golden rectangles.

Dust danced in the air, catching the light.

At the very end of the hallway stood a heavy oak door. Darker than the rest of the building.

In front of it. A guard stood straight and still. His academy uniform crisp and neat.

As Kyle approached. The guard's eyes locked onto him, sharp and unreadable.

"Can I help you, student?" the guard asked, voice polite but firm.

"I'm here to see Vice Principal Seris. I have permission."

The guard didn't move. He raised an eyebrow. "Your ID, please."

Kyle reached into his pocket and fumbled around before pulling out his student card.

His fingers trembled slightly as he held it out.

The guard took it and studied it closely. Then he touched the comm unit clipped to his shoulder.

"Vice Principal? There's student Kyle Valemont here to see you. Says he has an appointment."

A pause. "Yes, ma'am." Another short pause. "Understood."

He handed the card back and stepped to the side. "You may enter."

Kyle nodded and tried to steady his nerves. He pushed the door open.

The office inside was large but messy. Books and papers were piled on every table. Even stacked on the floor in the corners.

There were so many things scattered around that Kyle wasn't sure how anyone worked in here.

Soft light filtered through the half-closed blinds, painting thin lines of gold across the desk in the center of the room.

Behind it sat Seris Voidcrest. The Vice Principal of Solvayne Academy.

She didn't look up right away.

She leaned over a stack of papers. Her pen scratching quickly across the page.

The golden tips of her elven ears peeked through her hair, glinting in the light.

After a few more seconds, she finally stopped writing and leaned back in her chair.

"Kyle," she said, her voice warm but clearly tired. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Kyle stood stiffly. Feeling out of place in the quiet room.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. His mind going blank even though he'd gone over this a hundred times in his head.

Seris tilted her head and studied him, her golden eyes calm but curious.

"You look like you are about to ask for something either very expensive or very illegal. Which is it?"

"Neither!" Kyle said, a little too loud. He winced and cleared his throat.

"I mean... it's about a student here. Mira Farrow."

At the name. Seris's expression softened.

"I heard about her sister's condition," she said quietly. "Nasty business, NSDS."

She waved toward the chair across from her.

"Sit down. You're making me nervous just standing there like that."

Kyle sat down quickly. The leather chair creaked under him.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I visited the hospital yesterday," he said.

"Lila… she's just a kid. And she's..." His voice broke for a second.

He swallowed and tried again.

"I was wondering if maybe your Soul Heal ability could help her."

Seris let out a slow sigh and rubbed her temples.

"Kyle, Soul Heal doesn't work like that. It's not a miracle spell."

"But you fixed my mana core!" he said quickly. "That was—"

"Different," she said gently, cutting him off.

"Your core was damaged. But it was still whole. NSDS... it's not the same. It's degeneration.

The body's breaking down, nerve by nerve. There's nothing for me to heal. The tissue isn't damaged. It's disappearing."

Kyle looked down. His shoulders sagging.

He'd known it was unlikely. He wasn't foolish. But he had hoped. Really hoped.

"So there's really nothing?" he asked softly.

Seris didn't answer right away. She studied him for a moment, quiet and thoughtful. Then she stood up and walked to the window.

She reached for the cord and pulled the blinds all the way open. Sunlight poured into the room, washing the clutter in gold.

She stood there for a second, looking out at the academy grounds. Then she turned her head slightly.

"I didn't say that."

Kyle looked up, surprised.

"What do you mean?"

Seris turned back to him slowly. Crossing her arms over her chest.

"Soul Heal might not be the answer," she said.

"But that doesn't mean we're out of options. There are other things. Experimental treatments. Rare artifacts. Even a few high-level potions."

"Some of them might not fix the damage. But they could slow it down."

Kyle leaned forward, his heart racing. "But... wouldn't those be—"

"Expensive?" Seris raised an eyebrow. "Hard to find? Maybe not exactly legal in certain provinces?"

She gave him a small, tired smirk. "Yes. All of the above. But not impossible."

For a second. Kyle didn't speak. He just stared at her, hope slowly rising in his chest.

"You'd help?" he asked quietly.

Seris let out a long breath as she walked back to her desk and sank into her chair.

She looked tired. But there was a hint of something softer in her eyes now.

"I'll make a few calls," she said. "I know some people in the medical research division. I can ask around. I'm not promising anything, but..."

She shrugged. "We'll see what we can do."

Relief crashed into Kyle like a wave. His chest felt lighter. He almost laughed.

"Thank you. I mean it. I don't even know how to—"

"Stop right there," Seris cut him off, holding up a hand.

"No need to start writing me poems or naming your firstborn after me."

Kyle blinked. "You're not doing this for me?"

"No." Her voice was firm. She leaned her chin on her hand, watching him.

"I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. And because..." She smiled slightly. Her golden eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I have got a soft spot for sweet, overly serious kids who keep throwing themselves into other people's problems."

Kyle felt his cheeks heat up. "I'm not a kid."

Seris gave him a look. "Could've fooled me."

She leaned back with a dramatic sigh. "Honestly. At this rate I should just adopt you."

"Would probably save me the trouble of always having to clean up your messes and patch you back together."

Kyle groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Please don't start that again."

"What? You'd make a fine son. Bit reckless. Constantly in trouble. But your heart's in the right place."

She let out another sigh. "Although I suppose Aurelia would fight me for custody."

Kyle peeked at her through his fingers. "I regret coming here."

Seris chuckled, a warm, real laugh. "No. You don't. And neither do I."

The room fell quiet for a moment. Then Seris straightened up, more serious now.

"I'll let you know when I hear anything. But for now..." She reached into a drawer. Rummaging around until she pulled out a small wooden box.

It was dark and polished, with a delicate silver latch.

She tossed it gently toward him.

"Take this to the hospital. It's not a cure. But it should help Lila feel a little better."

Kyle opened the box slowly. Inside was a small silver bracelet, simple but beautiful.

In the center was a blue gemstone, no bigger than a marble, glowing faintly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A minor artifact," Seris said, waving her hand.

"It helps regulate mana flow. Eases nerve pain and boosts energy a bit. Won't stop the illness. But it should make her more comfortable."

Kyle stared at the bracelet for a second. Then closed the box and slipped it carefully into his pocket.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I know it's not enough, but—"

"Kyle." Her voice was calm but firm. "You don't have to keep thanking me."

Kyle stood and started to leave. But just as he reached the door.

Seris called out, "And Kyle?"

He turned back.

"Tell that little girl I said to hang in there. And tell her sister..." She paused.

Her voice softened. "Tell her there's always hope."

Kyle smiled. "I will."

As he stepped into the hallway and the door closed behind him.

Kyle let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

It wasn't a cure. It wasn't a solution.

But it was something.

And sometimes, something was enough.

———

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