Awake Too Soon

TIME - 12:00 PM – 13 HOURS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

Dad arrived after some time, but I didn't get to meet him right away. As soon as he stepped into the hospital, the nurse told him and Sugar that I had to undergo some more checkups and tests. So they had to leave the room, leaving me alone with the doctors.

The checkups were thorough, more than I expected. They weren't just routine assessments; the doctors were checking everything—testing for memory loss, hallucinations, and any cognitive issues. Then came the physical examinations, where they asked if I felt any severe pain or lingering aches. Normally, these kinds of tests would be just formalities, but the way they went about it, it felt like they were still looking for something—like they expected something to be wrong.

~

A doctor, who had been sitting in a chair to my left, placed his fingers on my pulse and studied me for a moment before speaking.

"How are you feeling, Ahriman?"

It was the fourth time he had asked me the same question, in the same concerned tone, with the same cautious look on his face.

I shifted slightly on the bed, feeling the stiffness in my limbs. "Not much, just a bit of heaviness in my head. Also, this plaster on my leg is a little uncomfortable."

He let out a small chuckle. "Anything else? Grogginess? Difficulty processing things?"

"No, not really. I felt a bit disoriented when I first woke up, but weirdly enough, it faded pretty quickly."

His expression remained unchanged, but I caught a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. He leaned in slightly. "You do understand what happened to you, right?"

His reaction made me pause. What was with that look? I had already answered similar questions from another doctor earlier. Was my condition really that unusual? Shouldn't they be relieved that I was recovering quickly?

Still, since it was his job to assess my health, I repeated the same response I had given before. "Yeah, I remember getting hit. I was in a taxi, and after that… well, when I woke up, my sister filled me in on the details."

The doctor studied me for a moment before continuing, "So… your sister told you that you were unconscious when they brought you in and that…" He hesitated, his face tightening with unease, but then he pushed forward, "...that you were in a state where it looked nearly impossible for you to survive. And yet, here you are, awake and speaking with me, just six or seven hours after I operated on you."

I wasn't sure what he was getting at. Sugar had already told me how bad my condition was. Was he trying to emphasize how miraculous my survival was? Or was he just patting himself on the back? But his tone and expression didn't match someone boasting.

Not wanting to overthink it, I figured I should at least express my gratitude. "Thank you, Doctor. I owe you my life. It's because of you that I got a second chance."

He gave a small laugh before shaking his head. "It's my job to take care of my patients, but I'm glad I could help. It's just… never mind."

That last part caught my attention. He was about to say something but held himself back. That made me even more suspicious.

"Is it really that rare for a patient to wake up just an hour after surgery?" I asked.

He exhaled through his nose. "Hm, I wouldn't say rare, exactly. I've seen patients regain consciousness within an hour, but it depends on many factors—the scale of the operation, the type of anesthesia used, the patient's medical history, and so on."

"So what makes my case different?" I pressed.

Instead of answering immediately, he observed me carefully before speaking. "Somehow, your operation was successful."

Somehow?

He continued, "I already told you that different conditions affect how long it takes for someone to wake up after surgery."

I nodded. "You did."

"Forget about your injuries for a second—the anesthesia we gave you was strong enough to keep you unconscious for several hours. And even after waking, its effects should've lasted a day or two, at least. But you woke up in an hour. As if the anesthesia just… wore off all at once. That's not something that happens under normal circumstances."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "There are rare cases where someone is immune to anesthesia, but we checked your records—you weren't. And if you were, it would mean you should have felt an unbearable amount of pain during the operation. But clearly, that's not the case here."

Before I could respond, the door swung open.

"Doctor, is everything alright?"

Dad's voice cut through the room, pulling both of our attention toward him. He looked tense, like he was trying to keep himself composed.

The doctor straightened. "Everything's fine, sir. Are you his father?"

"Yes, and thank you for operating on him." Dad's words came out quickly. "So there's nothing to worry about, right?"

The doctor hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "No, there isn't. Well… not for now, at least. Your son is a lucky guy."

Dad let out a short laugh. "Haha, I already know that."

The doctor chuckled as well. "Maybe not that much—he'll be stuck eating our boiled hospital cuisine for a while." Then, turning back to me, he added, "The tests are done, Ahriman. If you experience any seizures or a sudden increase in pain, call us immediately."

With that, he stood up and left the room.

Now, it was just me and Dad. He pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed. "How are you feeling, kiddo?"

Physically, I felt better than I should have. But mentally… not so much. His expression was filled with concern, but after everything that had happened between us, I didn't feel like adding to his worries. Those things the doctor had said still lingered in my mind, but maybe it was nothing. He didn't mention any of it to Dad, after all.

I shrugged slightly. "I'm fine. A little lightheaded, but aside from that, I'm doing great—so much that the doctors are having trouble believing it."

Dad chuckled. "Haha, you're a strong kid, after all, so anyways, " He paused, " I knew something was wrong when you didn't pick up my calls."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday?"

He nodded. "When I got home and heard about what happened, I tried calling you. But you weren't answering, so I called Sugar. She told me you were staying with her, and that put me at ease. Then this morning, she called again, saying you had gotten into an accident and were in the hospital. At first, I thought it was something minor, but when I asked for details…" His expression darkened slightly. "She told me you had to be operated on. And that she had forgotten to call us."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, she gets even clumsier when she panics."

Dad's expression shifted slightly, his usual easygoing demeanor giving way to something more serious. "Even then, how does someone forget to call their family when their brother is in surgery?" His voice held a tinge of exasperation. "I told her I'd karate chop her when I saw her, and now she's avoiding me."

I glanced toward the doorway just in time to catch a glimpse of someone peeking in before quickly ducking back out of sight. A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. "Oh? Will you?"

Dad clenched his fist and raised it into the air, putting on an exaggerated, dramatic tone. "Yes! I'm furious! Just because she's gotten a little bigger doesn't mean I can't discipline her for her mistakes."

It was obvious that beneath his words, he was just worried about her. At most, he probably would have scolded her a little. But that wasn't enough for me—I couldn't let my dear sister, Sugar, off with just a simple lecture.

"You're right," I agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Dad, do you remember how your favorite watch mysteriously disappeared?"

He frowned slightly, rubbing his chin. "Yeah… I remember looking for it, but I never could figure out where I put it. Why?"

I cast another glance at the doorway. The figure from before was peeking in again, but this time, she pressed a finger to her lips, silently pleading for me to stop talking.

"Well," I continued, pretending not to notice her, "I just remembered. Sugar dropped it, broke it, and then threw it in the trash. She figured you'd just assume you misplaced it. She even said, 'It's fine, Dad always forgets things. He'll just think he took it off somewhere and can't remember where.'"

I stole another look at the doorway. This time, my sister's face was fully visible, eyes wide in alarm.

"She also said," I went on, keeping my tone casual, "that you're getting super old and should start preparing for retirement. Oh, and if you beg her to take care of you, she might consider it. Also—" I added the finishing touch, grinning mischievously, "she said your bald head shines so brightly it could blind someone."

Before I could blink, Sugar burst through the doorway, her voice rising in pure horror.

"Are you stupid?! Of all things, why would you lie about that? Dad, I never said that! Forget saying it—I never even thought it—ugh!"

As soon as she got close enough, Dad reached out and grabbed her forearm, his face darkening into a stern expression. "Where were you, miss? I told you to look after your brother, didn't I?" His tone was sharp, the kind that made people straighten up on instinct.

Sugar stammered, searching for an escape. "I—I—oh! I went to get some coffee. I was here all night, so I started feeling a little sleepy."

Dad's grip didn't loosen. "You forgot to tell anyone about your brother. You left him alone. You're an adult now, Sugar. It's time you started acting like one."

She lowered her head, bowing slightly. "I'm sorry. I was scared, and I panicked. The doctor told me his condition was bad, and I really just forgot to call anyone. But when I saw you coming, I knew he wouldn't be alone, so I left." She paused for a beat, then murmured, "I'm… really sorry for my actions."

Then, as a final, desperate attempt, she unleashed her ultimate weapon—her puppy dog eyes.

The sheer intensity of her gaze was immeasurable. A normal human like my dad didn't stand a chance.

He let out a long, defeated sigh. "Next time, if something like this happens, you call home first."

…That's it?

No karate chop?

If it had been me in her place, I would've been his personal punching bag by now. But whatever—that was just one of the thousand perks of being a woman.

"I will," Sugar promised quickly, relief washing over her face as Dad finally let go of her arm. She loosened up, probably thinking she was free.

But Dad wasn't done yet. Crossing his arms, he eyed her with a knowing smirk. "We'll continue this when we get home. You still have a lot to apologize for—especially for what you did to my favorite watch." His expression darkened slightly. "And expect a neck chop as punishment."

Sugar blinked, confused. "Huh? What?"

Dad's eyes narrowed. "You really thought you'd get away with it?"

Sugar let out a tiny, nervous laugh, but Dad didn't say anything else. Instead, we all sat down, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics.

It didn't take much to realize what they were doing.

They were trying to distract me—to pull my mind away from what had happened yesterday.

And honestly, I was grateful for it.

If Dad had been home last night, nothing would have happened. He had a way of keeping things in check, of making sure everything stayed under control. But since Dad had been always working late, there was no way he would've been home before eleven.

That was just the reality of an average salary worker—long hours, late nights.

The only ones who had it easy, even in times like this, were the people sitting in higher positions.