Chapter19:The Impossible diagnosis

"Maybe… maybe I was cured," she continued, her voice gaining confidence, the idea taking root as she spoke it aloud. It wasn't entirely a lie, not really. The system had done it, that much she knew, a truth as undeniable as the solid ground beneath her feet, a truth confirmed by the glowing blue screen that had popped into existence right there in her bedroom yesterday, visible only to her:

==Start of System Interface Memory==

Mochi said "Okay, okay! Open your system interface! Just think about it, and it'll pop up!"

Samantha raised an eyebrow. Alright, sure. Let's try this.

She took a deep breath and thought, System, show my status.

Immediately, a translucent blue screen appeared before her.

[Host: Samantha Kisaragi]

Vitality: Normal (No longer weak and sickly!)

Physical Strength: Average (For now!).

==End of System Interface Memory==

Normal. No longer weak and sickly. The system had declared it, and her body had confirmed it, first with the sheer impossibility of the workout, then with the terrifying strength she'd found in the warehouse. She felt normal, no, better than normal. She felt capable. And maybe, just maybe, this newfound, terrifying reality could also serve as a shield, a plausible, albeit miraculous, explanation for her parents.

"My illness… maybe it just… went away. Just like that." She met their bewildered gazes, her eyes steady, radiating a newfound, undeniable strength that even she was still struggling to grasp. It wasn't the fragile, pleading look they were used to. "If you're truly worried about me," she suggested, planting the seed of the idea she needed them to accept, needing a way to normalize this dramatic shift, "maybe we go to my doctor and test if my body is stable now. Really stable. See if the aplastic anemia is… gone."

Her parents stared at her, stunned into silence. Her mother, Elena, her face already streaked with tears, blinked slowly, shaking her head in disbelief and a fragile, terrifying hope. "Cured? Sam, honey," she whispered, her voice thick and choked with emotion. "That's... that's impossible. You can't just... it doesn't work like that. Not with aplastic anemia."

Her father, Reiji, usually the picture of calm, was clearly rattled. He glanced at the doctor standing respectfully nearby, then back at Samantha, his sharp eyes studying her intently. He saw the difference too, the upright posture, the steady gaze, something fundamentally altered from the frail girl he'd worried about for years. "Impossible or not," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil warring in his eyes. "If there's even a chance... Elena, she's right. We need to know. We need Dr. Tanaka to run the tests. Now."

Elena nodded fiercely, already reaching for her purse, the raw terror of nearly losing Ren propelling her into immediate action, mixed with this sudden, impossible glimmer of hope for Samantha. "Yes. Now. We'll go straight there."

Leaving Ren was difficult. Elena hesitated, looking back at her son, bruised and pale but conscious in the hospital bed. Ren saw their conflict, saw the desperate need in their eyes. He forced a weak but determined smile. "It's okay, Mom. Dad." He met their eyes, his gaze unwavering despite the pain. "Go. Find out about Sam. My safety is more important than mine right now." His voice was still raspy, each word a small effort.

Reiji nodded, relief mixed with the lingering pain etched on his face. He walked over to Ren, put a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. "We won't be long, son. Lexie will stay here. We'll call as soon as we know anything."

Elena hesitated for another moment, her gaze sweeping over Ren with a mother's fierce love and lingering fear. Then she turned to Lexie, her voice filled with deep gratitude and trust, entrusting her most precious son to this girl she barely knew, but who had proven terrifyingly capable. "Lexie, please... please take care of Ren. He... he just got here, I know, but..."

Lexie stepped forward, her expression calming into one of quiet reassurance. The sharp edges of the "Ice Queen" mask were softened, replaced by a gentle solemnity for Ren's parents. "Tita, Tito, don't worry," she said, her voice steady, a quiet promise. "I won't leave his side. Go. Find out about Samantha. I'll make sure he's comfortable." She even offered a small, genuine smile, a rare sight that eased some of their fear. "He's in good hands."

A quick, emotional farewell followed. Samantha hugged Ren again, whispering a low, shaky promise, "I'll be back soon, Kuya. I love you." Her parents did the same, their touch lingering. They looked at Lexie with deep gratitude in their eyes before turning and leaving the room, their footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway.

As they walked out, a faint, almost imperceptible blue shimmer flitted near Samantha's head for just a second. Mochi. A silent, concerned presence, visible only to her, a constant reminder of the secret that now defined her.

The drive from the hospital to Dr. Tanaka's clinic was quiet, tense, surreal. The usual sounds of Quezon City traffic felt muted, distant, absorbed by the heavy silence within Reiji's car. Elena was lost in thought, staring out the window, her face a roadmap of fear and desperate hope. Reiji focused on the road, his jaw tight, grappling with the day's events – Ren's kidnapping, the brutality, Lexie's terrifying capability (which they would try to rationalize later, perhaps as intense martial arts training, thankfully unaware of the true extent of her violence), and now, Samantha's impossible claim.

Cured? It can't be. It just can't. Aplastic anemia doesn't just... vanish. Elena's silent thoughts seemed to vibrate in the air between them. What if it's a fluke? What if the stress, the adrenaline… what if it triggered some temporary change? What if she gets there, they run the tests, and it's the same as always? Or worse… what if it's lower?

Reiji, the pragmatist, tried to focus on the immediate tasks. He was already on the phone, calling Dr. Tanaka's emergency line, his voice low but firm, explaining the urgent need for tests, bypassing the usual procedures. He'd have to file a police report about Ren's attack, manage the aftermath, the questions, the implications. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him.

Samantha sat in the backseat, outwardly calm, but her mind was a maelstrom. The contradiction was stark, almost comical in its cruelty. Her parents, the people who had monitored her health with a vigilance born of terror, were worried about her old, dead illness while she was dealing with a magical system, insane workout challenges, confusing romance quests, and preventing a catastrophic threat to the entire school.

The system's power was real. She had felt the stats change, the photographic memory load, the basic combat skills download, then evolve into something terrifying and instinctive in the warehouse. She had broken two men who tried to hurt her brother, not with skill she learned from YouTube, but with something primal and new, fueled by the system's boost and her own rage. She had driven a car with unnatural skill, enhanced by the system's reflexes. The aplastic anemia was gone, she knew it, thanks to the system. But she could never tell them.

This miraculous cure was her secret, tied to a dangerous, unpredictable game master Mochi, and terrifying, high-stakes missions. The "Protect the School From an Incoming Threat" mission loomed in her mind's eye, a constant, low-level hum beneath her thoughts. What was the threat? How could she possibly fight it? Her parents' love and worry, their relief over her perceived "cure," felt like an anchor grounding her, but also a liability. How could she protect them, or anyone, when she was entangled in something so unbelievable? She was now living a life she couldn't share with the people she loved most.

She pressed her back against the seatbelt, feeling the slight pull, the mundane reality of the car ride. The city lights blurred outside, the air inside the car thick with unspoken fears and hopes. The lingering scent of hospital disinfectant, or maybe adrenaline, was a strange perfume. Her hands, resting in her lap, looked normal, but they felt different. Capable. These were not the weak, translucent hands that trembled after climbing a flight of stairs. These were hands that could hold on. Hands that had fought. Hands that the system had deemed worthy.

They pulled up to Dr. Tanaka's clinic. It looked the same, the familiar, comforting building that had been a second home for years, now feeling slightly anxiety-inducing. The waiting room was quiet, thankfully empty save for a lone receptionist, the usual hum of activity absent for their emergency appointment.

Dr. Tanaka met them in the consultation room. He was a kind man, her long-time hematologist, who had seen her through countless transfusions and bone marrow biopsies. He was professional, yes, but tonight he looked clearly confused and concerned by the Kisaragis' agitated state and the unusual hour.

Her parents explained, carefully choosing their words, avoiding the full horror of the warehouse, focusing instead on Ren's "stressful incident" and Samantha's baffling claim of feeling miraculously better afterward. They emphasized the impossible – her sudden ability to drive through rush hour traffic to get Ren to the hospital, something that would have been unthinkable just yesterday.

Samantha spoke next, her voice calmer than her parents', stating how she felt, how different her body was. She tried to sound convincing, grounded, describing the physical changes without sounding insane.

Dr. Tanaka, a seasoned professional who had managed Samantha's condition for years, listened patiently. His skepticism was evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way he steepled his fingers. He explained, gently but firmly, that while extreme stress could sometimes cause temporary fluctuations in some conditions, aplastic anemia was a bone marrow failure disorder. Remission was rare, often partial, and certainly not sudden, dramatic, and correlated with physical exertion. He agreed to run the standard blood tests – a Complete Blood Count (CBC) – to humour them and gather data, but his posture, the subtle tilt of his head, prepared them for the likelihood that the counts would be low, just like they always were.

A nurse came in for the blood draw. Samantha rolled up her sleeve. In the past, this had been an ordeal, her veins fragile, the sight of the needle causing a nervous tremor. Tonight, she sat calmly, watching without flinching as the needle went in. The nurse gave a slight, surprised look at the ease of it, the quick flow of blood. Samantha just met her gaze, a quiet defiance in her eyes. The physical changes bestowed by the system made even this simple act different.

They moved back to the waiting room, the three of them sitting in tense silence while the lab processed the sample. Time stretched, each minute feeling like an eternity. Elena was visibly anxious, wringing her hands, occasionally whispering a worried question about Ren back at the hospital. Reiji tried to appear composed, flipping through a magazine without reading, his eyes distant. He occasionally glanced at Samantha, studying her with that same searching look.

Samantha was outwardly calm, a stillness the system had instilled in her, or perhaps the sheer shock of the day had brought about. But internally, the tension was immense. Mochi was silent now, just a faint blue light at the edge of her vision, its presence a constant, terrifying reminder of the secret hanging over her. What if the tests show the aplastic anemia is still there? What if the system only temporarily suppressed it, a cruel trick? Or worse, what if they show something completely new, something wrong, something caused by the system? Her control, her carefully constructed facade of a natural, albeit miraculous, cure, was about to be tested by hard science. The outcome of these tests was critical – it would either validate her lie (partially) and buy her time, or expose her as delusional, making it even harder to hide the system and the chaos that was now her life.

Finally, Dr. Tanaka entered the consultation room again, holding the lab report. His expression wasn't just clinical anymore; it was bewildered, perhaps even slightly awestruck. He looked from the report to Samantha, then to her parents, then back to the report, as if trying to reconcile the paper in his hands with the person sitting in front of him. He took a deep, settling breath.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kisaragi," he said, his voice steady but clearly holding back a torrent of professional surprise. "And Samantha." He gestured to the report, his hand trembling almost imperceptibly. "These results... they are... extraordinary."

He explained the numbers. Red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets – the key indicators of bone marrow function. All within the normal range. Perfectly healthy counts. The numbers were indisputable. "Samantha," he said, looking directly at her, a mixture of disbelief and scientific curiosity in his eyes, as if she were a fascinating medical anomaly. "Your blood counts... they are completely normal." He paused, letting the impossible sink in. "Based on this report," he stated, his voice quiet, "you no longer have aplastic anemia."

Elena gasped, a ragged, choked sound. Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were tears of overwhelming relief, of impossible joy, of shock that stole her breath. "Normal?" she whispered, reaching blindly for Samantha, pulling her into a fierce, bone-crushing hug, sobbing into her hair. "Oh my God... she's... she's cured! It's a miracle!"

Reiji was stunned, his jaw slightly dropped, the pragmatist in him grappling with the undeniable, impossible evidence. He took the report from Dr. Tanaka, staring at the columns of numbers, his hands trembling slightly. The proof was there, stark and unbelievable.

Dr. Tanaka reiterated that he could not explain this medically. Spontaneous remission was virtually unheard of, and a complete, sudden recovery like this was beyond his understanding. He stressed the need for follow-up tests, perhaps a bone marrow biopsy, further investigations to try and grasp what had happened, but based only on the blood work in front of him, the diagnosis no longer applied. "This is... unprecedented," he said again, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it in my career."

Samantha was held tightly by her parents, hearing their sobs of relief, the doctor's baffled words, seeing the impossible numbers on the report reflected in her father's trembling hands. The raw, scientific confirmation hit her with full force. It was real. The system worked. She was cured. The aplastic anemia, the illness that had defined her fragility, was gone.

But the joy, the relief, was tempered by the crushing weight of the secret she now bore. She felt their overwhelming relief, their love, their confusion, and their renewed, bewildering worry about this inexplicable change. Her life was irrevocably changed, not just by health and strength, but by the supernatural contract, the unpredictable demands of Mochi, and the terrifying missions she must now complete. She felt the vibrant energy thrumming beneath her skin, the stark reality of her new, powerful, dangerous existence. The system's third main mission, the threat to her school, flashed in her mind's eye like a neon sign, a cold, hard reminder. This was not an end, but a beginning. A terrifying beginning

...Her grip tightened on her mother's back. The tears on her cheeks were no longer just from the day's horror or the current relief. They were for the life she'd lost, the innocence she'd shed, and the unknown, dangerous future that lay ahead.

The school. Incoming Threat. Difficulty: Five Stars. 30 days. System Lockdown if you fail.

She was cured. She was strong. She was safe.

But it came with a price. A secret she could never share. And a fight she couldn't walk away from. A fight that was far from over.

"...It's just starting," she whispered into her mother's shoulder, a chilling thought meant only for herself, a stark contrast to the scene of tearful joy unfolding around her.

Just then, a familiar, cheerful hum, visible only to her, zipped into her peripheral vision. Mochi.

==Start of Mochi's Dialogue/System Interface Memory==

"Hey, hey, don't forget, Samantha!" Mochi's tiny voice chimed excitedly in her mind, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment. "Protect the school is Main Mission Three! But you still have Main Mission One! You know... the love quest! Make someone fall in love with you! You only have like... twenty-eight days left for that one!"

And also! Mochi's voice lowered conspiratorially, a tiny blue light bouncing. "Don't forget that date side quest with Liza! You gotta do that in the next, uh… six days! Penalty's still Extreme Unattractiveness, remember?"

Samantha felt a wave of nausea wash over her, completely unrelated to her former illness.

The school. Save Ren. Find love. Go on a date with Liza.

The stark reality of her new, multi-layered, terrifying existence slammed into her. She was a walking contradiction. A girl who could snap bones and had photographic memory, yet was also tasked with navigating teenage romance under supernatural duress, all while preparing for an unknown threat.

She was cured. She was strong. She was safe.

For now.

But the system hummed, waiting. The future was a chaotic, unpredictable blend of horror, mystery, and absurd rom-com quests. And she was at the center of it all.

She pulled back from her parents' embrace, her expression hardening, the tears still wet on her cheeks, but her eyes blazing with a resolve born of sheer, terrifying necessity.

"...It's just starting," she whispered again, louder this time, a promise to herself, a challenge to the system, a chilling acknowledgment of the chaos she now embodied.