"We have a patient, Maeve. You really do need to work on your short-term memory," he scoffed.
Maeve stared at him. The change had been so sudden that she had not even found the moment in which it happened.
One second, he had been standing in front of her with an expression she found absurd, speaking as though he had been dragged into some memory that did not belong to him.
Not it all just vanished. Just like that.
"What just happened?" Maeve whispered.
"What happened?" Marcellus looked at her.
"You were..." her fingers tightened around the phone, but she stopped speaking.
She did not what word to use.
Disturbed? No.
Maeve studied his eyes, and there was nothing abnormal about him now.
"Nothing," she said.
"...Lead the way, then," he gestured.
"You’re not going out dressed like that are you?" she asked.
"What’s the problem in this?" he looked down.
He was still wearing only his dark trousers, the burns across his chest had healed considerably, but the skin remained sensitive, and visible from the unaffected areas.
"You look like you escaped from one of the beds in the medical wing, Young Master," she said.
"And I need to change, too," she gestured at her loose shirt, and Marcellus nodded.
"Fair point," he nodded.
A few minutes later, the doors of the royal wing opened into the academy’s main corridor.
Students passed through in smaller groups, their voices lowered whenever they saw Marcellus.
It was his first time making an appearance after the duel
He wore a beige coat over loose white shirt, paired with dark brown cargo pants and shoes. While Maeve just wore her heeled shoes and tight jeans under her loose black satin shirt she was already wearing.
She glanced at him once. He looked normal, and assured herself.
But there was a certain change. He hadn’t offered his hand for her to guide, he was serious, not humorous, which was more concerning.
The smell of antiseptics reached them before they arrived at the entrance of medical wings.
It was different from where Marcellus was treated. This was a building dedicated to cadets in general. Not for pillars or ranked above hundred ones.
The corridor opened into a large reception area with several desks arranged along one side, while the other was divided into examination rooms by thick transparent panels.
Cadets moved through the passage in uniforms...usually the violet blazer that signified that they were cadets. Some were supported by nurses, some walked with their arms held against their bodies, a few sat on benches.
The reason was obvious. Duels had officially begun. And the number of duels occurring on daily basis was significant.
Ranked duels were announced for cadets to spectate and gain experience, unranked were just their way of practicing and fighting among themselves.
Maeve walked beside Marcellus as they passed the reception. A nurse wearing a blue shirt over pajamas, a classic medical outfit, mover her eyes over the beige coat, then to his face, and finally to the healing burns that were still visible above the collar of his shirt.
"Marcellus---Severan?" The nurse was shocked.
Following her, people’s attention drew towards him, whispers followed almost immediately.
"I’ve got fans already?" Marcellus smirked.
"Yes---I mean, may I help you?" The nurse shook her head and asked, but her eyes never drifted away from his collarbone for some reason.
"..." Maeve noticed the stare rather quickly, and knocked on the desk twice.
"Rafe Pretoria," she said, as the nurse looked at her.
"Oh..." The nurse looked at the display, did some fiddling on the keyboard, and then looked back at Maeve.
"Patient’s under restricted access." She said, and her eyes drifted back to the open collar of Marcellus’s shirt, and the faint residual burns under it.
"You know, I put him there, feels rude not to visit," Marcellus leaned one forearm on the desk, and smiled.
The nurse looked between Maeve and Marcellus...then back to his collarbone.
"You’re staring way too much," he said.
"I wasn’t-"
"It’s fine, burns look worse than they were. Want a closer look? I can unbutton another one."
He reached for the top button of the shir as if he were completely serious.
Maeve’s hand shot out and caught his wrist.
"Let me handle...I’m the assistant, right?" She looked irritated.
"...sure," he nodded.
It was only then, they heard a rather familiar voice from behind them.
"My~ You love birds never stop your bickering, do you?" A woman wearing a long white coat over a light grey dress walked up behind them.
She had snow white hair, deep red eyes, and mature tone in her voice.
"Professor Sage Moreau?" Maeve furrowed her brows.
"What a lovely lady you are; you remember me from just one lecture," Saige looked at Maeve and then at Marcellus.
"And why is heir of Severan so interested in visiting heir of Pretorias who clearly lost the duel?" she asked.
"Conscience," Marcellus replied in one word.
Saige raised an eyebrow.
"Conscience?" she repeated.
"Yes."
"That’s a very mature answer for someone who was just offering a nurse a closer look at his chest," she said.
"It’s not like I have tits to hide, and she stopped me," he then pointed at Maeve.
"My, you’re rough with words," Saige smiled and turned her attention toward the reception desk.
"Rafe’s condition is still under restriction, even most of the cadets don’t know the extent of his injuries, and trust me; You wouldn’t want to see him," she said.
"Try me, I’ve seen worse," he said.
"Whether you can see Rafe or not, is entirely depended on you. Do you come here as an observer, an opponent, or the person who caused the injury?" Saige asked.
"Does it matter?" Marcellus countered.
"It does."
"Then my answer is neither. I come here because of my conscience not to learn, mock, or make situations any worse," he replied.
"Oh, then I suppose I can take you there, apparently, you’ve become today’s most interesting patient, too," Saige scoffed.
"I am not a patient," Marcellus said.
"Please tell that to the nurses here~"
Maeve heaved a deep, tired sigh.
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