【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

It turns out that a large part of the reason I'm still alive is because of the healer in front of me—Lady Cynthia.

When I actually heard that name, the vague sense of respect I felt suddenly took shape.

This is not some anonymous code in the system, nor a cold medical staff identifier in a document. This is a girl with a name, a smile, and a breath of life.

Later, I heard from others that she had worked tirelessly for over ten hours to save my life. From unconsciousness to near death, from energy collapse to my heart almost stopping, she never left.

She used her healing powers to pull me back from the brink of death, to the point that she almost fainted herself and had to be taken away to rest by the field medics.

That kind of "rest" is actually a forced shutdown because the machine is exhausted and can no longer move.

She was still unconscious the night I was transferred to the ward. It is said that even the military doctor in charge of her care couldn't bear to watch, because her vital signs were once more dangerous than mine.

And now, she sits quietly in front of me, her expression gentle as if nothing had happened.

She saw me staring blankly and smiled—a smile that wasn't dazzling, but it was very bright.

"You've finally recovered almost completely." Her voice was soft. "You know what? You were in such a state back then, even I almost couldn't save you. I went through so much trouble to keep you alive."

I didn't know how to respond. My throat felt hoarse, as if it were covered in snow.

All I could say was in a low voice, "...Thank you."

She shook her head, her smile fading slightly, as if trying to conceal the weariness that seeped into her very bones. "Why thank me? Your being alive is the best thank you. But—" She blinked gently, her expression suddenly turning mischievous.

"Remember to repay me when you get better."

I was stunned. "A reward?"

“Mmm.” She tilted her head. “Protect me. Buy me sweet ivory berries. I like that taste—” She gestured, smiling like a child, “The shell is hard, but once you peel it open, the flesh is as sweet as candy. One bite and you’ll forget the taste of ice and snow.”

At that moment, I suddenly felt a pang of sadness in my chest. I remembered her hand from earlier—so slender.

So I nodded. My voice was still hoarse, but I spoke very earnestly: "Okay. When I can walk again, I'll go buy you a whole basket."

Cynthia smiled. It wasn't the polite smile of a medical professional, but a genuine smile. The sunlight reflecting off the snow outside the window streamed in and fell on her profile, making her look as if she truly didn't belong on this cold planet.

However, in fact, I was soon able to get out of bed and walk—because I had to.

The body doesn't recover that quickly; it still hurts, it's still stiff, it still feels like being pricked with needles, and it still makes it hard to breathe.

But I know that as long as I can stand and walk, I must take action. I can't continue lying in bed as someone to be dealt with.

Cynthia wanted me to continue resting, but the option of "resting" had already disappeared from my mind.

The test report clearly states: "Gender of the test subject: non-modern male."

—Only “non-new male” was written.

It didn't say I was an ordinary male, nor did it say I was a female or a modern woman.

There was no vague classification such as special constitution, low ability response, or rare genotype.

Only one was written—excluding new men.

This statement alone is enough to trigger a huge chain reaction, because only new men are eligible to join the army.

I don't know where things stand at. I don't know if the report has been submitted, if the military system has marked it, if Ye Lin has taken any further action, or if I've been placed under "close surveillance."

I have no idea... what irreversible process awaits me next.

The only certainty is that as long as the official decision-making document hasn't been issued, I still have room to control the situation. But I also know that this actually depends on Ye Lin's mercy, even though he probably doesn't seem very merciful.

But even so, as long as I haven't been sentenced, I'm not a criminal. I'm just a military academy student whose "test results are pending further confirmation."

Therefore, I must get out of bed, I must take action, and I must take advantage of this gap to deal with the possible consequences.

I'm not running away. I'm maintaining balance.

If I lose my balance, I might not only be expelled from military school, but also be taken directly to some place for "investigation" or even sent to a medical isolation unit for treatment.

I can't let things get to that point.

Cynthia's eyes were full of unease when she saw me stand up:

"You can't move around right now, your injury—"

I shook my head, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

"I am fine."

“Of course something’s wrong.” She frowned. “You just woke up, your blood flow is still unstable, and you have a muscle tear—”

I gently steadied myself by holding onto the edge of the bed, my voice weak but firm: "But I must move."

Cynthia was stunned, as if she were seeing for the first time in my eyes a kind of...suppressed urgency.

I did not explain the reason, nor can I explain it.

"Don't worry," I took a deep breath, "I won't fall."

—At least you won't fall in front of others.

She bit her lip, seemingly hesitant, but ultimately took a step back:

"...Then at least let me have someone accompany you."

"No," I said faster than I expected.

She looked at me, as if she had guessed something, but didn't ask. She just watched quietly as I steadied myself, put on the military-issued coat, and slowly walked towards the door.

I gripped the door frame, my breath trembling slightly.

What I'm about to face is far more challenging than physical pain.

As long as the final official document has not been issued, and as long as the "gender determination" has not been officially entered into the records.

I turned to look at Cynthia, who was staring at me with worry written all over her face: "Where are you going?"

I gripped the doorknob tightly. My voice was soft, yet firm:

"Go deal with a problem... that won't wait for me."