Chapter 28:To the City of Sanctumhaven

Things shifted smoothly as I made my way out of the hospital.

Well—"smoothly" might be a stretch.

I kinda… skipped all the formalities. Final check-up? Discharge paperwork? Yeah, no thanks. Bureaucracy isn't really my thing. Who had time for endless forms and redundant questions when there were more interesting things to do?

I mean, come on—who do you think I am? Some model patient? Please.

Luckily, the timing worked in my favor. It was shift change. That beautiful, chaotic window when everyone's attention was divided. Night staff, pale and weary, were finally heading off for their well-earned rest, probably dreaming of their beds.

Morning staff, still bleary-eyed, were barely settling in, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. Half of them were too busy grabbing breakfast from the cafeteria or making their way to their wards to even notice I was ghosting out. I moved like a shadow, just another face in the blur of early morning activity.

The only real obstacle was the receptionist. She just happened to glance up from her screen, her eyes flickering over me.

"I'm discharged," I said flatly, my voice devoid of inflection, daring her to question it.

She blinked. Clearly didn't buy it for a second. Her brow furrowed, a silent challenge forming on her face.

So, I sighed, a dramatic, put-upon sound, and lifted my gown just a bit—just enough to flash the perfectly smooth, unblemished skin of my abdomen and chest. My skin was practically glowing, as if I'd just been born again, not beaten to a pulp less than twenty-four hours ago. Not a bruise, not a scar, not even the faintest lingering redness from the bandages.

Her face turned a spectacular shade of crimson in an instant. Her eyes widened, then snapped away, flustered and muttering something under her breath about "decorum" or "indecent exposure."

Dismissed.

And just like that, I walked out like I owned the place, the automatic doors sliding open with a whisper, welcoming me back to the world.

I stepped out into the open, breathing in the fresh morning air like it was some kind of personal reward. The cool breeze against my face felt utterly liberating.

Clean. Crisp. Unhospitalized.

Finally.

I stretched a little, luxuriating in the movement, the hospital gown still fluttering around me like a flag of defiance. Yeah, I was still in it—white, ill-fitting, and definitely drawing attention. A few passing students threw curious glances my way, their whispers barely audible. Probably wondering what some guy fresh outta the infirmary was doing strolling around campus in medical attire. Yeah, not the best outfit to stroll around in, but I didn't really care. What was a little public oddity compared to everything else? My concerns were, as usual, far more pressing.

I didn't pay them much mind.

Instead, I turned toward the left side of the academy grounds—where the first-year dorms were located. The path was quiet, still mostly deserted in the early morning, the breeze just light enough to remind me I was finally free, truly unburdened by the lingering scent of antiseptic.

When I finally reached the dorm building, I took the lift to the third floor. A soft ding echoed as the doors slid open, and I stepped out into the quiet hallway.

My footsteps were the only sound, a steady rhythm against the polished floor.

I walked down the corridor, stopping in front of my door. The moment I pushed it open, the familiar scent of sandalwood greeted me—calm, warm, grounding. It was a stark, comforting contrast to the clinical sterility I'd just left.

Home sweet home.

Well… a temporary one. A placeholder, really. But a home, anyway. For now.

I walked in and shrugged off the patient's gown, letting it drop to the floor like a discarded skin. First things first—I headed straight to the bathroom.

The faint scent of antiseptic and medicine still clung to me, a phantom reminder of the hospital, and honestly, I wasn't a fan. I needed to wash it off before it sank in any deeper.

A warm shower did the trick, washing away the lingering traces of illness and the unpleasantness of the last twenty-four hours.

Afterward, I threw together a light breakfast—nothing fancy, just enough to keep my stomach from complaining, a simple meal to fuel the day. Then came the change of clothes: a crisp white formal shirt, classy black pants, polished shoes, and a brown leather watch on my wrist. Simple, clean, presentable. A subtle statement of competence.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, assessing myself.

Not bad. Considering.

The dark circles under my eyes were miraculously gone. My skin looked smooth, almost too smooth, as if airbrushed. I was still on the lean side—definitely needed to put on a little more weight, or at least some muscle—but overall, not a bad recovery. Unsettlingly perfect, almost.

Still… one thing bugged me.

"I definitely need a haircut," I muttered, pushing back my slightly messy brown hair, noting its unruly length.

But that could wait.

Because right now, I had plans. Important plans. I was going to meet a friend. Or, more accurately, an acquaintance. But "friend" sounded better for my internal monologue, even if it was just to myself.

I stepped out of my dorm and made my way toward the academy gate. The doors were wide open, inviting passage.

Apogee Academy allowed students to go out on weekends—Saturdays and Sundays, as long as there weren't any scheduled events or emergencies. Some students used the time to visit their families, cherishing the brief reunions.

Others just wandered around the city, finding solace in its anonymity. And some… didn't really have a home to return to in the first place. Their dorms were their only sanctuary.

No one asked. No one judged. It was just how it was, a quiet understanding woven into the fabric of the academy.

As for me, I decided to do a little exploring. Being cooped up in school all the time? That was for nerds. No offense to the nerds, of course. Just not my style. I needed space, a wider horizon than what the academy walls offered.

And here's the thing—ever since I came to this academy, I felt… distant. Like something here pushed me further and further away from who I was, from the Earth I knew. It was a subtle, pervasive pull, drawing me into something else entirely, a different orbit.

Back on Earth. The phrase felt alien, almost foreign on my tongue now, a relic of a fading memory.

It's funny, really. If you ever search the meaning of the word Apogee, you'll find it has several definitions. An apex. A climax.

But the one that stuck with me?

The farthest point from Earth.

A coincidence… or something else? A subtle, mocking whisper from the universe about my current predicament.

My thoughts trailed off, drifting into that familiar contemplative space, until they were interrupted by a mechanical voice, clear and precise.

"You have reached the city: Sanctumhaven."

The announcement echoed through the cabin just as the train came to a smooth, almost imperceptible stop. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, jolting me from my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I stepped off the train, my shoes tapping lightly against the platform, the familiar scent of metal and ozone in the air.

Sanctumhaven.

A city known far and wide for its grand cathedral—home to the devout followers of the Goddess of Life. Pilgrims came from across the continent to offer prayers here, to seek blessings and healing. It was a place of reverence, tradition, and a quiet, almost suffocating, piety.

A little too serene for my taste… but maybe that's what made it stand out. An oasis of calm in a world that rarely offered it.

The roads here were spotless, lined with meticulously placed stone tiles that gleamed under the morning sun. A sweet floral fragrance, light and pervasive, drifted through the air, carried by the gentle breeze, as if the entire city exhaled blossoms. Sanctumhaven lived up to its name—a true sanctuary.

I kept walking until I spotted a convenience store tucked neatly between a vibrant flower shop and a tiny, quaint café, its awning a cheerful splash of color. The door slid open with a soft chime as I stepped in, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet space.

It wasn't crowded—just the way I liked it. I moved through the aisles, grabbed what I needed with practiced efficiency, and made my way to the counter.

The cashier, a bored-looking guy in his early twenties, scanned the items. His eyes paused on the pack of cigarettes, a flicker of something—recognition? judgment?—in his gaze.

He looked up at me, his expression flat. "Are you even old enough to buy these?"

I raised an eyebrow, a cool challenge in my demeanor. "Are you old enough to question me about that?"

He frowned, a slight flush rising on his neck. "Look, man, it's against policy to sell to minors. I could get in trouble."

"Well, I'm not exactly the kind of person who gives a damn," I said coolly, leaning slightly over the counter. "Policies are for people who follow them. And I'm clearly not one of those people."

I dropped a crisp hundred-lumen bill on the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet store. Without waiting for a response, I pocketed the cigarettes and the lighter.

"Keep the change," I added, already walking toward the door. "Grab a candy while you're at it—consider it a tip for following the rules so hard."

Then I left without looking back, the chime of the door announcing my departure.

My shopping wasn't quite over yet. There was one last thing I needed to buy.

I made my way toward the small flower shop nestled just off the main road, its colorful display a stark contrast to the convenience store's bland interior.

Outside, an elderly woman was gently watering the blooms by the window, her movements slow, patient, almost meditative.

"Welcome," she said with a warm, gentle smile as I stepped inside, the air immediately thick with the scent of fresh cut flowers. "We have bouquets, potted arrangements, and a wide variety of fresh flowers. What are you looking for, dear?" Her voice was soft, kindly.

"I'm looking for a white flower," I said, keeping my voice low, the casual indifference slipping away for a moment.

Her expression shifted slightly—something between kindness and sympathy, a subtle understanding. "Ah… are you visiting someone?"

I gave a small nod. "Yes."

She didn't ask more, a quiet respect in her silence. Just gestured for me to follow as she showed me the options, guiding me through rows of delicate blossoms. White lilies, daisies, camellias—each beautiful in its own right. But it was the white poppies that caught my eye.

Delicate, yet with a profound stillness about them.

"This one," I said, pointing.

"A peaceful choice," she murmured...

already wrapping the delicate stems in soft paper, her movements practiced and gentle. After I paid, she handed them over carefully, almost reverently, as if entrusting me with something precious.

I stepped out of the shop, the delicate bouquet clutched lightly in my hand, and began walking again—this time with purpose. My destination was clear.

Toward the holy graveyard of

Sanctumhaven.

To finally pay a visit…

To the one who's still waiting.