Though paralyzed, still radiantly charming!

Chapter 304: If you really were his friend...

Chapter 304: If you really were his friend…

“Rylan, visiting hours have started.”

“Rylan? Is Rylan here?”

The head nurse’s voice echoed down the hallway, calling out again and again, but no one stood up.

At first, the people waiting in the chairs didn’t pay much attention. But after hearing the name called five or six times, they started to glance around curiously.

Everyone here was waiting to visit someone. They knew how hard it was to get approval for a visit, so who would miss their chance? Maybe something urgent came up?

“Rylan? That’s… me, I think.”

On the 16th floor, in the hematology department, Ryan was sitting with his head down, scrolling through his phone, reading up on leukemia and its treatment options.

He had heard the nurse calling, but it didn’t click that she was calling for him.

He pulled out his driver’s license and checked the name carefully. Everyone around him was now looking his way, and raising his hand at this point felt a bit awkward.

“If this person doesn’t show up, there won’t be another chance to visit today,” the nurse warned, her eyes scanning the room as she shook the sign-in sheet in her hand, clearly not willing to wait any longer.

Awkward or not, missing the chance would be worse. So, under the curious stares of the others, and the nurse’s increasingly impatient gaze, Ryan nervously raised his hand.

Sure, it was just one letter off, but Ryan couldn’t help feeling like it made a world of difference.

The nurse shot him a sharp look, and when she saw him fiddling with his phone again, her eyes widened in disbelief, and her temper flared.

She quickly strode over, snatched the phone from his hand, and placed it at the nurse’s station. Then, she gave him a little shove to get him moving.

“It’s all been disinfected, and you’re still messing with your phone? Do you even know how many germs are on that thing?”

Ryan was then dragged off to the disinfection room, where they scrubbed him down thoroughly. After what felt like an ordeal, he was finally allowed to step into Room 1602 for the first time.

While sitting in the waiting area earlier, Ryan had been thinking about what to say once he entered the room. He had even prepared a little speech. If the girl asked, he’d just say he was a friend of Frank’s, here to check on her.

Before opening the door, Ryan mentally rehearsed his lines one more time. But when the door finally swung open, and he saw the frail figure inside, all the words he had prepared vanished from his mind.

“Clara, you have a visitor,” the nurse announced as she led Ryan into the room. She busied herself checking the IV bag, making sure there was enough medication, and then walked around the room, inspecting every corner, as if she were searching for something.

Ryan watched her, confused, while the girl, Clara, seemed used to this routine. She hesitated for a moment, then turned her gaze to Ryan, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Alright, visiting time is half an hour. Don’t disturb the patient’s rest,” the nurse said, finally satisfied after even checking under Clara’s pillow. With that, she left the room.

As soon as Ryan stepped inside, Clara’s eyes were on him. From what the nurse had mentioned earlier, it seemed this was the first time anyone had come to visit her since she’d been admitted.

“Uh, hi, Clara…” Ryan said, waving awkwardly. He had heard her name from the nurse and tried to sound friendly.

But his attempt at warmth didn’t land. Ryan had overestimated the connection between them. Clara didn’t move or say anything, just kept staring at him, leaving his hand hanging in the air, making him feel painfully awkward.

“Uh… I came to visit you. I didn’t have much time to prepare, so I didn’t bring any flowers or anything,” Ryan said, embarrassed, as he edged along the wall and finally found a chair to sit in.

He hadn’t brought anything with him. Not that it would’ve mattered—if he had bought flowers or fruit, the nurse probably would’ve stopped him anyway. None of that was allowed in the room.

Ryan kept talking to fill the silence, while Clara frowned slightly and glanced at the vase of daffodils on the table. One of the bouquets had already withered, but no one had replaced it yet.

Following her gaze, Ryan noticed the same thing. It seemed like his words had reminded Clara of the flowers.

Clara had delicate features, but she didn’t look well. At her age, she should’ve had long brown hair, but due to the chemotherapy, it had all fallen out. Not just her hair—her eyebrows were gone too.

This was Ryan’s first time being so close to someone seriously ill. The physical distance between them wasn’t much, but sitting there, it felt like they were worlds apart.

“I’m a friend of your dad’s from the construction site. He… asked me to come check on you when I had the chance.”

Ryan honestly had no idea how far along things were or if Clara even knew that her father had passed away in an accident. So, he chose his words carefully, watching her closely for any reaction.

But Clara’s response was… no response at all.

“…”

After a moment of silence, Ryan found himself at a loss for how to continue. He just sat there, quietly meeting the girl’s gaze, letting the minutes slip by.

Clara was so thin. Ryan couldn’t help but sigh as he took in her frail state.

With an illness like this, so much was beyond her control—her appetite, her weight. If she could eat, there wouldn’t be bottles of nutritional supplements hanging from the IV stand beside her bed.

Her physical condition, though concerning, wasn’t what troubled Ryan the most. What really unsettled him was her mental state.

It was like sitting across from a doll.

That’s the feeling Clara gave him. Even though sunlight poured generously through the large windows, the room still felt lifeless, devoid of any vitality. And at the center of it all was this fragile girl, as still and silent as a stagnant pool of water. No matter how hard Ryan tried, she gave him nothing in return.

By now, Ryan had pretty much figured things out. The room wasn’t small, and while the decor was simple, it was tasteful. A room like this wouldn’t come cheap in any hospital, let alone here.

Frank must have come into a large sum of money recently. Otherwise, after his death, there’s no way Clara could still be receiving treatment in a place like this.

Ryan felt a sudden urge to slap himself. Here he was, in this situation, and all he could think about was the “Dangerous Events” the system had warned him about. It felt heartless.

But what else could he do? Just sitting next to Clara, he could feel the weight of her despair.

It was like she was trapped behind a thick, impenetrable wall of hopelessness, and inside that wall was a helpless girl. But Ryan couldn’t do anything to help her.

Even his reason for being here was a lie. From the start, he was just an outsider, a bystander.

Once Ryan stopped talking, the room fell into a long, uncomfortable silence. He noticed there was a TV in the room, along with some magazines and newspapers, but they were all neatly arranged, untouched.

After just a few minutes of this quiet, Ryan felt incredibly uneasy. He couldn’t imagine how Clara spent her days here, in this suffocating stillness.

He found it harder and harder to look directly at her. The smell of disinfectant in the air only added to his discomfort. Sitting here, doing nothing, watching her suffer—it was unbearable. He was worried, but he had to pretend like none of this affected him.

About fifteen minutes passed, and Ryan still hadn’t managed to say anything. He had come with the intention of asking questions, maybe finding out if Frank had been acting strange before his death, or if he had been in contact with anyone unusual.

But now, sitting in front of this fragile girl, Ryan couldn’t bring himself to exploit her pain for answers. The shame of it weighed too heavily on him.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, Ryan slowly stood up, ready to say goodbye and leave.

Just as he was about to speak, Clara’s gaze, which had been fixed on the window, shifted back to him.

Her voice was soft, so quiet that in any other setting, it would’ve been drowned out by the slightest noise.

“…Are you really my father’s friend?”

“I… yes,” Ryan replied, his neck stiff as he nodded. The lines he had rehearsed so many times before entering the room now felt impossible to say.

Clara gave a small nod in response, leaning back against the wall as if even sitting up was draining her energy.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, watching Ryan closely. From his behavior, she had already formed her own conclusions.

“If you really were his friend…”

“Then can you tell me how my father died?”

Her words hung in the air, and the room fell silent once again, as if nothing had been said at all.