Ethan poured the crushed medicine into his palm, his jaw tightening as he looked at the sick, feverish woman sprawled in front of him. Her skin was clammy, her lips cracked, and her eyes—once sharp with defiance—now flickered with confusion and weakness.
She didn't understand what he was trying to do. When Ethan reached toward her mouth with the pill, she bared her teeth and glared at him like a cornered animal, wild and distrustful.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. There was no time to explain, no way she'd understand his words anyway.
Bracing himself, he forced her mouth open and slipped the pill past her lips, tilting her chin until she swallowed.
"Mmmfff—!" She thrashed weakly, shaking her head, muffled cries bubbling in her throat. If she hadn't been so ill, her strength would have been enough to hurt him badly.
Ethan pulled back, panting, guilt pricking at him even though he knew it was necessary. "You'll thank me later," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
He placed the bottle of medicine beside her and pointed at it, repeating gestures as if trying to teach a child. "These. Every day. Don't stop." Then he gestured toward the distant pyres where the dead lay untouched. "Burn them, or the sickness spreads."
Whether she understood or not didn't matter. He had done what he could.
And then the familiar chime rang in his head.
Ding."System notice: Task completed. Spatial recall initializing. Prepare for return. Please collect belongings before transfer begins…"
Ethan froze.
Belongings.
His heart dropped. The tigers!
He had meant to release the two orphaned cubs before leaving, but now the swirling pull of the dimensional rift was already surging around him. His body locked in place as the air roared like a storm, dragging him off his feet.
"No, no, no—!"
Too late.
The world tore apart in a flash of white. In an instant, he was ripped away, hurled back into his own world.
The wooden walls of the small hut rattled as he reappeared. Windows slammed against their frames, glass shattering onto the floor. A gust of displaced air sent papers, cans, and broken tools scattering in every direction.
Ethan staggered, choking on the dizziness that hit him like a wave. His vision blurred, the image of the sick woman still flickering in his mind as though she were standing right in front of him.
He leaned against the wall, chest heaving. Just a minute ago, his hand had been prying open her jaw. Now he was here—home—and it all felt like some distant dream.
"System notice: Return successful. Historical space preserved under 'My Archive.' Rewards for this mission must be collected immediately. Please note: reward selection expires in ten minutes."
Ethan clenched his fists, forcing himself upright. "Alright, show me the package."
A glowing panel unfurled in his mind.
"Congratulations. You have earned three treasures."
The first reward dropped onto the floor with a dull thud—a pair of brown gloves, plain in appearance but humming faintly with power.
"Level 4 sci-fi weapon: Shock Gauntlets. Powered by internal bio-electric cells. No external charge required. Output: up to one million volts. Suitable for offense and defense."
Ethan picked them up, a grin breaking through his exhaustion. "Now that's more like it."
The second item appeared as a stack of cards edged in blue light.
"Utility treasure: Diving Cards (x3). Grants underwater survival up to 100 hours at depths less than 100 meters. Cooldown: two hours. Can be upgraded for extended capacity."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Perfect. Like the system knew I hated the water."
The third reward blinked into view with a jarring announcement.
"Level 1 utility item: Electric Trike. Suitable for farm use. Maximum speed—"
"Stop, stop!" Ethan waved his hands, cutting the voice off. "I don't need that junk. Convert it to points."
"Confirmed. One point added."
The panel faded, leaving silence.
Ethan sighed, relief washing over him—until his backpack began to squirm.
He froze. Then a muffled cry split the air.
He tore open the zipper and pulled out two tiger cubs, one striped black and white, the other with pale golden fur. Both were trembling, pressing against each other in fear, tiny bodies radiating warmth.
Ethan's throat tightened. Their wide eyes—lost, helpless—stabbed straight into his chest. For a moment, he saw his younger self reflected there: abandoned, fighting to survive, carrying the weight of loss.
"Alright… fine." He crouched, stroking their soft fur with a gentleness that surprised him. "You've got no one else. I'll take you in. But you behave, got it?"
The cubs whimpered softly, as though they understood.
Ethan chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "First pets of my life… and they're tigers."
Ethan shoved the gauntlets into his storage space and hurried toward the exit.
He passed through the café lobby, where the counter attendant, Chloe, was hunched over her phone, barely glancing up. She froze when she finally noticed him—filthy, battered, his shirt in tatters.
"Ethan? What the hell happened to you—"
"No time," he cut her off, already halfway out the door. "My uncle's in surgery. Watch the place for me."
He paused, turning back for one last instruction. "And… there are two cats in the back. Feed them some meat when you can. I'll pay you back later."
Then he was gone, sprinting out into the streets.
Chloe blinked at the doorway, then toward the rear of the café. "Cats?" she muttered. "That was no cat I just heard…"
Ethan's phone buzzed as he hailed a cab. Despite being half-shattered from his ordeal, the device was still working. Ryan's shaky voice spilled through the receiver, frantic and near tears.
By the time Ethan reached the hospital, Ryan was already waiting outside the operating room. The boy was tall for his age, lanky but too young to carry the weight on his shoulders. When he saw Ethan, he rushed forward, eyes red and swollen.
"Ethan! Dad—he… the doctors said the bleeding's bad. They've been in surgery for hours!" Ryan's voice cracked. His hands clutched at Ethan's arm, desperate.
Ethan steadied him, though inside his own heart hammered with dread. "Tell me everything."
Ryan wiped his nose with the back of his hand, tears spilling over. "Dad was delivering food at dawn… a car came out of nowhere, hit him, and didn't even stop. Just left him lying there. The doctors said his skull—" Ryan choked on the words, breaking down again.
Ethan's fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. His uncle had worked himself to the bone for years at the factory, and still he'd taken on side jobs—anything to support them. And now this?
His throat tightened. "Why didn't anyone tell me he was working nights?"
Ryan shook his head, voice trembling. "The police don't even know what kind of car it was. They… they might never find the driver." His lips quivered as he added, almost pleading, "Ethan, maybe we should sell the café. We need the money for the operation."
Ethan's chest ached at the boy's desperation. He understood—Ryan was terrified. But selling everything? Giving up the one thing his uncle had built for them? No.
He looked Ryan in the eye, his voice firm. "Listen to me. Money isn't the problem. Hand me the hospital bill. I'll cover it."
Ryan hesitated, almost angry. "Don't lie to me, Ethan! It's tens of thousands! You can't—"
Ethan snatched the slip from his cousin's trembling hands and shoved it into his pocket. His jaw set like stone.
"I said I'll handle it."
(End of Chapter 19)