"...Who did you come to visit today?" Kieran asked, leaving her startled. Olivine blinked. Why did he want to know?
She hadn’t expected that question. "My... friend," she answered honestly, still confused about whether her answer was wrong.
Kieran gave a small hum of acknowledgement, his eyes still fixed on the book. "Miyuki Donovan," he mentioned. It wasn’t a question.
Olivine’s surprise flashed across her face. "...Yes," she blurted.
Only then did Kieran slowly close the novel. He glanced up at her, his gaze fixed on her face.
Those clear sapphire eyes settled on her with quiet focus. "You’ve become rather close," Kieran mentioned. His words were vague, and Olivine hesitated before nodding.
"I suppose we have," she admitted with a small smile. "Snow... I mean, Yuki... is easy to get along with." Olivine felt like she was subconsciously walking into a trap. The feeling was crawling up her bones.
A faint smile ghosted across Kieran’s lips before disappearing almost immediately. He folded his hands loosely over the blanket. "Does she trust you?" he asked.
Olivine’s brows drew together. The question caught her completely off guard. She didn’t understand why Kieran was suddenly interrogating her, with Yuki as the topic of conversation.
"...Trust me?" she blurted, pointing at herself.
Kieran inclined his head once. "Yes," he repeated.
She searched his expression, hoping for some clue, but found only his usual calm composure.
"I... think so," she replied cautiously. "She tells me things she probably wouldn’t tell many people."
"How much?" Kieran probed further, and Olivine’s brows pulled together as she frowned even harder. "My Lord... why are you asking?"
Kieran remained silent for a moment. His fingers lightly tapped the closed novel resting on his lap before becoming still again.
"I’m asking," he said quietly, meeting her gaze with unusual seriousness, "because I need someone Yuki already trusts." He finally revealed.
The words hung in the room. Olivine’s heartbeat quickened. "...For what?" she asked. The knot in her stomach grew worse.
Kieran looked towards the rain-speckled window before answering in a voice so soft it almost blended with the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. "I need your help," he said, and her eyes went wide.
"I have a job, and I need someone she is comfortable with."
Kieran’s request caught Olivine completely off guard. She stared at him for a long moment, searching his composed face for some hidden meaning. Lord Kieran rarely asked anyone for help. If anything, he was the sort of man who quietly carried every burden himself.
"...My help?" she repeated cautiously, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
Kieran gave a small nod.
Silence settled over the room for a heartbeat before he continued in the same calm, measured tone.
"Miyuki Donovan is among the first patients to receive my latest regenerative treatment. Although the initial results have exceeded my expectations, she’s still part of the earliest group using the medication." He placed the closed novel on the bedside cabinet before folding his fingers together. "I need her recovery monitored carefully."
Olivine listened without interrupting.
"I want detailed records of her muscle strength, nerve response, pain tolerance, fatigue levels and emotional condition." His sapphire eyes finally lifted to meet hers. "Every noticeable change."
She blinked in confusion. "...Wouldn’t the hospital staff already be documenting all of that?" she asked.
"They are," Kieran answered without hesitation. "But they’re observing her as a patient." He paused briefly, his gaze drifting towards the rain-speckled window. "I need someone who’ll notice the things medical charts don’t." His eyes returned to hers. "The hesitation before she stands. The moments she forces a smile despite being in pain. The times she pushes herself beyond her limits because she doesn’t want to disappoint the people around her."
Olivine felt her expression soften. "...Someone she’ll act naturally around," Kieran finished quietly.
Realisation slowly dawned on her. "You want me to stay with Miss Yuki," she blurted.
"I do." He inclined his head once. "I personally supervised and mentored you in the past. You can do it while serving as a caretaker. She would be comfortable around you, and of course, you would get a bonus to cover the trouble." His voice remained calm, carrying the quiet confidence of someone stating a fact rather than offering praise.
Olivine couldn’t refute him. Seeing her silence, Kieran continued anyway. "You’ve handled similar cases before." A faint smile touched his lips. "And more importantly... she already trusts you."
Something about those words made Olivine’s heartbeat stumble. "She won’t feel like she’s constantly being watched if it’s you," Kieran added.
She lowered her gaze, absorbing his request. It wasn’t really a request at all. It was an assignment. Still...
"...My Lord," she said after a moment’s hesitation, "I guess you don’t want her knowing you were the one who developed the drug."
Kieran’s fingers paused against the blanket. "You don’t have to tell her. I have been working on that drug for a while. I don’t want a misunderstanding to make her think it has something to do with her personally," he said with a calm, unreadable expression. It was hard to tell his exact thoughts.
Olivine searched his face, wondering how much he had deliberately left unsaid. In the end, she simply nodded. "I understand."
Relief, almost too subtle to notice, eased the tension around Kieran’s shoulders. "Good, then," he chimed.
"I’ll do my best," Olivine promised sincerely.
"I know you will," Kieran replied, his voice carrying the faintest warmth.
******
The following days slipped by quietly. Thanks to the regenerative medication, Yuki’s recovery progressed at a pace that surprised even the physicians overseeing her treatment. Even for a werewolf with fast-healing abilities, it was still unprecedented.
By the fifth day, she could stand without assistance for several minutes. By the seventh... she was learning how to walk again.
Near noon, bright sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the rehabilitation room, bathing the polished floor in warm gold. Even with the air conditioner humming overhead, sweat clung to Yuki’s forehead and dampened the back of her rehabilitation shirt. Both hands gripped the parallel bars so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.
"Good," the physiotherapist encouraged gently as she walked beside her. "Keep your shoulders relaxed. Don’t let your body lean forward."
Yuki nodded weakly. The moment she shifted her weight onto her right leg, a sharp ache shot through her muscles. She sucked in a quiet breath. Every movement felt unnatural. Her legs had spent weeks lying motionless, and now every muscle protested with a deep burning pain that spread from her calves to her hips.
"One step at a time," the therapist coached patiently. "Your body remembers. You just have to remind it."
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