Chapter 128: A Palate Cleanser

Chapter 128: Chapter 128: A Palate Cleanser

Chapter 128: A Palate Cleanser

Cyrus Calder stepped into the school nurse’s office and found it empty.

Vera Sable was still gone.

The room looked almost too ordinary without her in it. The exam cot sat against the wall with its paper cover smoothed flat. A cabinet door had been left slightly ajar. The desk held a stack of forms, a half-finished iced drink, and the faint smell of antiseptic that never fully disappeared no matter how many students used the office as a gossip room.

Cyrus stood near the doorway for a few seconds, listening.

No footsteps.

No voice.

No lazy, smiling nurse who had told him to come back after school and then vanished the moment school ended.

For one brief instant, he wondered whether he had been stood up.

Then a voice sounded behind him.

"Oh, you came quickly."

Cyrus turned.

Vera stood outside the office with a takeout bag in one hand. The logo on the bag belonged to a nearby sandwich shop, and the smell of fried potatoes and warm bread followed her into the room. Her tone still carried that faintly unserious curve, as if even medical questions were only a better kind of joke.

She tilted her head and smiled.

"Does that mean my earlier guess was correct?"

Cyrus did not answer immediately.

The matter involved rare-bloods, the ring, and his missing memories. Until he knew how much Vera understood, he had no intention of handing over the entire truth.

After a short silence, he said, "I came to pick up the medicine."

"Oh, so that is why."

Vera entered the office as she spoke. She set the takeout bag on the desk, then lifted one hand and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

The nurse’s office was not large. With the door closed and the late-afternoon light pooling across the floor, even small movements seemed closer than they should be. As Vera moved, a faint fragrance drifted through the room, something soft and clean beneath the smell of food and antiseptic.

Her voice had the same teasing lilt as before.

Neither the scent nor the tone disturbed Cyrus much.

He cared far more about whether her question about memory loss had been a coincidence.

"Sit for a moment," Vera said.

Cyrus looked at her.

Her eyes were curved in their usual smiling shape. The expression made it difficult to tell whether she was being helpful, playing with him, or preparing to do both at once.

Still, if he wanted answers, standing by the door would not help.

He sat.

Vera watched him obey, and the smile in her pretty eyes deepened lazily.

So he really had come with questions.

If this had only been about medicine, he would not have sat down so obediently. A cautious boy did not linger around a school nurse who had asked one sentence too many unless the question had landed somewhere important.

Cyrus sat quietly while Vera turned to search the storage cabinet.

She rose onto her toes to reach one of the higher shelves. The white coat shifted with the movement, and the posture seemed to reveal a graceful line by accident. It was staged just well enough that it could still be denied.

Cyrus looked away without effort.

His gaze moved toward the door instead.

At that exact moment, someone outside the office turned away.

It was only a retreating back, half-seen through the small window and the gap near the frame. If Cyrus had looked a second later, he might have assumed it was an ordinary student passing by. Instead, their eyes had met for the briefest moment before the person left.

A student had been watching.

Cyrus’s attention sharpened.

Vera’s reflection in the glass of the cabinet caught his reaction clearly.

Before he could decide whether to follow, she returned and sat across from him with several small boxes of medicine in her hands.

"Here you are."

The interruption was timed too naturally.

Cyrus looked back.

They exchanged money and medicine. Vera stated the dosage again, the discount, and the warning not to miss it too often. Everything sounded proper. Everything looked like a normal nurse helping a student manage a prescription.

That normality made the next question easier to ask.

"Why did you think I had memory problems?"

"This?" Vera did not answer at once.

Instead, she reached across the narrow space and took his left hand.

Cyrus froze for a fraction of a breath.

Her fingers were warm. They circled his hand lightly, and her attention lowered to the plain ring on his finger. She turned his hand just enough to inspect it, wearing the expression of someone examining a patient’s symptom.

Cyrus’s thoughts moved quickly.

Did she truly know something about the ring?

Vera touched the band without trying to remove it.

"How long have you worn this?"

"About three months."

His heartbeat quickened despite himself.

Had she recognized it?

The question that had troubled him yesterday might have found an answer today. If Vera knew what the ring was, if she knew how it worked, then perhaps he could take it off before his memories were eaten away, before Isolde found him, before the protection became another cage.

For one bright, dangerous instant, Cyrus almost saw freedom waving at him from across the room.

Vera’s red lips parted.

"The design is very elegant. Thin, restrained, and not too flashy. Where did you buy it?"

"Someone gave it to me."

Cyrus answered instinctively.

Then the hope in his chest fell straight into cold water.

He pulled his hand back.

Vera looked at him as if she had done nothing wrong. If anything, the smile in her eyes became clearer. She even tilted her head, imitating harmless confusion.

"What is wrong?"

"You mentioned memory loss."

"Oh, that." Vera leaned back in her chair. "Was it not listed as a possible side effect of your medication?"

"The label only said it could affect the nervous system."

Cyrus had read the instructions. He was not careless with medicine that controlled his body. The leaflet had been written in the vague language of pharmaceutical warnings, but he remembered the important parts.

Vera’s innocent look did not change.

"Then I may have remembered incorrectly."

Cyrus had nothing to say for a moment.

He was increasingly certain she had been amusing herself at his expense.

That was an extremely excessive thing to do.

He stood with the medicine in his bag.

Vera did not stop him. She only watched him leave, her smile relaxed and bright enough to be irritating.

Once Cyrus disappeared down the hallway, Vera remained seated.

How nice.

She could not see his expression clearly because of his lowered hair, but small movements had given away enough. His pause, the way his attention sharpened, the way his hand withdrew after she praised the ring, and the short silence before each answer all told her that the question had struck close.

Earlier, she had not been entirely certain.

Now she was.

A seemingly ordinary human boy with a strange body condition, a scent in his blood that tugged at her instincts, and a ring custom-made through her family’s line?

There had to be a very interesting story behind that.

Perhaps the interesting part was still unfolding.

Vera looked toward the door where he had gone, and a trace of regret passed through her smile.

If she had moved a little faster yesterday, she might have learned more directly what was happening inside him.

What a pity.

She still did not know what that attractive blood would taste like.

Vera sighed with real regret this time.

Then her eyes brightened, as if another idea had occurred to her.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

During the call, the careless lilt in her voice faded. She sounded almost serious, speaking in low, efficient phrases and listening to the person on the other end with genuine attention. The conversation did not last long.

When it ended, another figure had appeared outside the nurse’s office.

A male student stood at the door, visibly nervous.

Vera looked over as if his arrival did not surprise her.

"What happened?" she asked casually. "Is there a problem with the wound from last time?"

"No, it is not that." The boy shook his head quickly. "Ms. Sable’s bandage was fine."

His overall impression was strangely similar to Cyrus’s at first glance: quiet, thin, a little gloomy. The difference was that his bangs did not cover his eyes, and his nervousness sat plainly on his face instead of being hidden behind indifference.

He took one breath.

Then another.

Vera watched with eyes that seemed to see through all of it. She did not urge him. Waiting was more enjoyable when the other person was struggling to gather courage.

The boy finally clenched his hands.

He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes, and spoke far louder than the office required.

"I think Ms. Sable is really kind. I know this is sudden, but I really, really like you. Please go out with me. I will work hard and become someone worthy of you."

The room quieted after the confession.

Vera did not answer immediately.

The boy waited, shoulders tense, as if silence itself were a sentence being stretched out one letter at a time. When he finally gathered enough courage to lift his head, Vera’s expression shifted at exactly the right moment into gentle surprise.

"I do not believe I ever said or did anything that could mislead you." Her voice was soft, almost regretful. "You are still a student. Your studies should come first."

The boy’s face lost color.

"But you were so nice to me. I thought..."

"I am the school nurse."

Vera lightly tapped the ID badge clipped to her coat.

"As the nurse, helping injured students is normal."

If a student misunderstood that help, it was not her responsibility.

Humans were visual creatures. Give them a pretty face, a kind voice, a carefully timed smile, and they would build the rest of the story by themselves. They would convince themselves that ordinary treatment was special, that professional concern was personal tenderness, that a bandage was an invitation.

Vera watched the boy realize this.

His confusion turned into embarrassment, then disappointment, then the thin, hollow look of a small hope collapsing in public.

Pleasure flickered in Vera’s eyes.

Rejecting someone after they misunderstood her kindness, then watching the despair settle over them, was a surprisingly good palate cleanser.

It was a little cruel.

It was also truly entertaining.

The boy mumbled an apology and left with his head lowered.

Vera watched his defeated back disappear down the hallway.

A quiet laugh slipped out of her.

Then she thought of Cyrus again.

Compared with this boy, Cyrus had stayed calm from beginning to end.

Her teasing, her scent, her voice, her deliberate movements, even the chance to be alone with her in the nurse’s office had not pulled much visible reaction from him. He had reacted only when she touched the ring and mentioned memory loss.

That made his supposed condition even more interesting.

For someone she had privately judged as a boy ruled by desire, he was strangely difficult to move.

Vera leaned back in her chair, smiling as the thought settled.

Now that was worth savoring.