Rhea ran.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, breath tearing in and out of her chest as images crashed through her mind, Ling standing cold that morning, Ling smiling cruelly, Ling saying this was revenge.
None of it mattered.
All she saw was Ling on the ground.
Please don't be like this.
The thought hit her like a punch.
Rhea dropped to her knees beside Ling before the medics even reached her.
"Ling," she said sharply, hands hovering, afraid to touch and unable not to. "Ling—hey—"
No response.
Ling's face was pale beneath the sweat, lashes resting too still against her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, breath shallow and uneven.
Rhea's hands shook as she finally grabbed Ling's body in her arms.
Pulse.
There.
Weak.
"Oh God," Rhea whispered, voice breaking despite herself. "You idiot… you absolute idiot…"
A medic tried to pull her back.
"Miss, you can't—"
"She hasn't slept," Rhea snapped without looking up, tears blurring her vision. "She hasn't slept for two nights, she's been pushing herself—she's exhausted—"
Her words tumbled out too fast, betraying how much she knew. How closely she had been watching despite everything.
Ling didn't stir.
Rhea leaned closer, her forehead almost touching Ling's temple.
"Don't you dare," she whispered fiercely. "Don't you dare leave after, after everything you did."
Her throat tightened.
"You don't get to escape this."
Ling heard nothing.
Felt nothing.
Only fragments drifted through the dark, Rhea's laughter, Rhea's anger, the weight of her trust, the sound of things burning, her own words cutting too deep to take back.
Then faintly a voice.
Rhea's.
Not cold.
Not cruel.
Shaking.
The crowd had gone quiet now, an unnatural hush spreading as Ling was lifted carefully onto the stretcher.
Rhea stood when they moved her, hands clenched at her sides, tears streaking down her face without permission.
Roin reached her cautiously.
"Rhea—"
She didn't look at him.
Her eyes stayed locked on Ling as they carried her away.
"If something happens," Rhea said hoarsely, more to herself than anyone else, "I will never forgive myself."
And underneath that fear buried deep, undeniable was a truth she could no longer outrun:
No matter what Ling had done.
No matter how cruel the revenge.
Rhea still couldn't bear the thought of a world where Ling Kwong didn't wake up.
The corridors smelled like antiseptic and urgency.
Ling's body was rushed through the medical wing on a stretcher, monitors beeping steadily now, her face still pale, eyes closed, lashes unmoving. Doctors and nurses moved with practiced speed, voices clipped, efficient.
Rhea followed without being asked.
No one stopped her.
Ling's squad was there too. Rina close behind, Jian tense and silent, Rowen unusually quiet for once. The arrogance, the jokes, the teasing all of it had drained out of them the moment Ling collapsed.
A doctor stepped out after what felt like too long.
"She's exhausted," he said calmly. "Severe sleep deprivation. Physical overexertion. Her body shut down before permanent damage could occur."
Rhea's breath released shakily.
"She needs rest," the doctor continued. "No stress. No stimulation. She'll regain consciousness on her own."
He glanced at the group.
"One person can stay."
Rhea didn't wait.
She walked straight into the room.
Ling lay on the hospital bed, stripped of her armor now no confidence, no sharp tongue, no control. Just stillness.
Rhea stood there for a moment, frozen.
This was the woman who had shattered her.
This was the woman who had written letters all night.
This was the woman who had stood cold and smiling and said this was revenge.
And now she looked breakable.
Rhea swallowed hard and moved closer.
She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, then after a long hesitation lay down beside Ling, carefully, as if afraid she might disappear if touched wrong.
She didn't hold her.
Didn't cry loudly.
Didn't speak.
She just lay there, facing Ling, eyes burning, chest tight.
"You're unbelievable," Rhea whispered finally, voice flat but shaking underneath. "You destroy people… and then you destroy yourself."
Ling didn't answer.
Rhea stared at her face, memorizing it against her will.
"I hate you," she said quietly. "And I don't know how to leave you alone."
Her hand hovered near Ling's arm then stopped. She pulled it back, curling it into herself instead.
Through the glass, the squad watched.
Rina leaned against the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable but tight. Jian stared at the floor like he'd personally failed something important.
Rowen broke the silence first, voice low, stunned rather than mocking.
"Women are… literally complicated."
No one laughed.
Rina shot him a look. "This isn't about women."
Jian nodded once. "It's about her."
Rowen exhaled slowly. "She said she hated her."
"And still followed her here," Rina replied. "Still stayed."
They all looked back through the glass.
Ling unconscious.
Rhea beside her, rigid, refusing to leave.
Rowen ran a hand through his hair.
"She ruined her," he muttered. "And Rhea still came running."
Rina's voice was quiet. "That's not complication. That's damage."
Rhea didn't move.
Minutes passed. Then more.
The beeping of the monitor became a rhythm she hated how quickly she adapted to.
She leaned her forehead lightly against the pillow near Ling's shoulder — not touching her skin, just close enough to feel her presence.
"If you wake up," Rhea murmured, almost angrily, "don't think this changes anything."
Her voice cracked despite the warning.
"This doesn't forgive you."
Ling remained still.
But her breathing evened out — deeper now.
Rhea noticed.
And that scared her more than the collapse had.
Because it meant Ling was coming back.
And when Ling Kwong woke up, nothing between them would be simple ever again.
Roin reached the medical wing late.
Too late to matter.
He stopped at the doorway the moment he saw through the glass Ling unconscious on the bed, Rhea lying beside her, rigid, unmoving, like she had welded herself there out of sheer will.
Something twisted in his chest.
He stepped forward.
"I'm taking her," Roin said, trying to sound calm, authoritative. "She doesn't belong here."
He reached for the door.
Jian moved instantly.
One hand slammed flat against Roin's chest, shoving him back hard enough that his shoulder hit the wall.
"No," Jian said flatly. "You're not."
Roin's eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"
Jian didn't raise his voice. That made it worse.
"They both need rest," he said. "You stay here."
Roin scoffed, anger flaring. "You don't get to decide—"
He tried to step forward again.
Rowen was faster.
He grabbed Roin by the collar and slammed him back against the opposite wall, forearm pressing into his throat just enough to stop him without leaving marks.
"Stay," Rowen said quietly, dangerously calm, "in your limits."
Roin struggled once. Useless.
"We're quiet," Rowen continued, eyes cold, "because that woman in there is Kwong."
He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"Go before you break your bones."
Roin froze.
For the first time, he understood the situation he had walked into.
Jian stepped in beside Rowen, blocking the doorway completely.
"This isn't your ground," Jian added. "And this isn't your call."
Roin's jaw clenched. His pride burned hotter than his fear — but fear was still there. Clear. Sharp.
He adjusted his collar slowly, stepped back.
"This isn't over," he muttered.
Rowen smiled without humor.
"For you," he said, "it already is."
Roin turned and left.
The door stayed closed.
Inside, nothing changed.
Rhea did not stir when voices rose outside. She remained beside Ling, eyes open, staring at the wall across from the bed like it might confess something if she looked long enough.
Ling's breathing stayed steady.
Rhea's didn't.
Her fingers clenched into the sheets once then relaxed.
She didn't know they had protected her.
She didn't know anyone had argued over her.
All she knew was this:
She had sworn to stay away.
And yet here she was lying beside the person who had broken her worst.
Outside, Rina watched Roin disappear down the corridor.
She exhaled slowly.
"You didn't have to threaten him."
Rowen shrugged. "He needed it."
Jian glanced back at the closed door.
"She wouldn't leave even if we asked."
Rina nodded. "And Ling wouldn't forgive us if we made her."
They fell silent.
Because all of them understood one thing now something deeper than rivalry, deeper than control:
Whatever existed between Ling Kwong and Rhea Nior was no longer a game of power.
It was something already ruined.
And still terrifyingly unbroken.
Inside the room, time dragged.
Rhea finally shifted, curling slightly closer without touching, her voice barely audible.
"Wake up," she whispered, not a plea, not a command. "So I can hate you properly."
Ling did not wake.
But her brow twitched.
And somewhere between unconsciousness and return, something inside her responded not to the monitors, not to the medicine
—but to the presence she had sworn she didn't need anymore.
Rhea had been staring at Ling's face for so long that the anger had dulled into something dangerous familiarity. The steady rise and fall of Ling's chest, the faint crease between her brows, the way unconsciousness stripped her of cruelty.
Rhea leaned closer without deciding to.
Her body moved before her mind caught up.
Her arm slid around Ling's waist protective, instinctive, the way she used to sleep before everything broke. She froze for a breath, then exhaled shakily, resting her forehead near Ling's shoulder.
"This doesn't mean anything," she whispered, as if the room itself might accuse her.
She leaned in, eyes closing, intending only a brief kiss on Ling's cheek something quiet, something unspoken, something she could pretend didn't matter.
At the last second, Ling shifted in her sleep.
Her head turned.
Rhea's lips missed the cheek.
And landed on Ling's lips.