The "moving" operation was anything but discreet. Mila had parked her battered old car in front of the hospital's service exit, right in the cameras' blind spot a detail I had double-checked three times.

  "Tanashi, hurry up!" Mila whispered nervously, scanning the surroundings.

  "If the director sees us, we’re both unemployed."

  I helped Ariane into the passenger seat. She seemed to float in one of my old, oversized sweaters, her notebook of names clutched against her like a talisman.

  "It feels like we’re planning a bank heist," she murmured with a fragile smile. "It’s very exciting, Doctor."

  "Just be exciting in silence," I replied, closing the door.

  Twenty minutes later, we were climbing the creaking stairs of an old building. The apartment was small, steeped in a scent of lavender and dust. Mila flicked on the light, revealing a modest but cozy living room.

  "Welcome to the palace," she declared, dropping the suitcases. "Ariane, the bedroom is at the back. The fridge is empty, but Tanashi promised to do the groceries."

  That was when the "comic relief" hit me full force: I was an excellent neurosurgeon, but I was totally incapable of naming three foods suitable for a pregnancy without opening a textbook.

  "I... yes. I’ll buy... things. Vegetables? Milk? Can you eat cheese?" I asked, lost in the middle of the living room.

  Ariane burst into a clear laugh the first since her tears at the hospital.

  "Doctor, I’m pregnant, not a rare species kept in captivity. Pasta and a pack of cookies will do for tonight."

  "Out of the question," I snapped, regaining my professional focus. "You need iron, magnesium, protein..."

  I pulled out my notebook and began drafting a list worthy of a starred dietetic menu. Mila rolled her eyes.

  "See? I told you. He’s a maniac. We’ll call him 'Mama Tanashi'."

  "'Mama Tanashi'!" Ariane repeated, giggling.

  I grumbled for the sake of it, but deep down, seeing her smile return in this little secret apartment was a victory. I didn't know yet that this place would become our bunker, and that soon, every footstep in the hallway would make us jump.

  It was nearly midnight when I returned, loaded like a pack mule. I had bags under my eyes and even more bags in my hands.

  "I’m... home..." I puffed, dropping my purchases with a rustle of plastic.

  Ariane stepped out of the bedroom, still half-asleep. She stopped dead in front of the mountain of supplies.

  "Doctor... why are there three bunches of bananas and... is that a duck-shaped hot water bottle?"

  I flushed, trying to hide the object behind me.

  "Potassium. And the duck... it’s for your lower back pain. It was the only model left."

  Ariane looked at the yellow duck, then at me. She wavered between laughing and crying. Finally, she sat down and lowered her eyes.

  "Thank you, Tanashi," she whispered.

  "I’m just doing my job as a—"

  "No. No one would do this. My parents let me down. My friends too. You’re the only one who still treats me like a person. Thank you for letting me believe that my daughter will have a chance."

  I remained silent. At that moment, I wasn't "Doctor Tanashi" anymore. Just a man trying to mend a cracked world.

  (A few days after moving in) I went to see her in her room, as I did every morning. She was sitting on the bed, phone in hand, eyes fixed on the blank screen.

  "Still no news?" I asked softly.

  She shook her head without looking at me.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  "I left messages. To everyone. To my 'friends' from high school, to some acquaintances... I just said I was sick, that I’d be away for a long time. So I wouldn't have to explain."

  She scrolled through her message history with a slow gesture.

  "Look, Doctor. Ten messages sent. And look at the replies."

  She handed me the phone. Three replies. Three. One said:

  "Oh man, get well soon!" with a smiley emoji. The second: "Did you see the new movie?" The third: "Who is this again?" Nothing else.

  "They don't care," she whispered. "I existed when I was in the same class as them, when I laughed at their jokes, when I lent them my notes. Now that I’m gone... I’m already forgotten."

  I wanted to say something, but she continued.

  "Do you know what it is, Doctor? It’s worse than cruelty. Cruelty, at least, means you still exist to someone. Indifference... it’s like being already dead."

  "You aren’t dead, Ariane. You’re here. And Hina is here."

  She placed her hand on her stomach. A sad smile, infinitely sad.

  "Yes. She’s here. At least she doesn't ignore me."

  A few days later, everything collapsed. I ran up the stairs two at a time, a box of cookies in my hand. Mila had told me Ariane hadn't eaten for two days. "She just stays in front of her screen," she had whispered over the phone. "I can't get her away from it."

  I pushed the door open. The apartment was plunged into a sickly gloom. The curtains were drawn. No lights. Only the blue glow of the computer illuminated the living room. Ariane was curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked against her, her stomach forming a dome under her oversized sweater. She didn't move. She stared at the screen.

  "Ariane?"

  Nothing. Not a flinch. Not a blink. I set the cookies on the table and approached slowly. The closer I got, the more I saw: she was white. Not pale white. As if all the blood had left her face. Her lips, usually so pink, were gray.

  "Ariane, look at me."

  She didn't answer. Her eyes remained glued to the screen. So I looked. It was a group chat. The name of the group was displayed at the top: "Without Ariane."

  My heart skipped a beat. I read.

  Yuki: Did you hear? Turns out she's knocked up.

  Ryo: BY ANYONE.

  Mai: If it’s true, that’s disgusting.

  Kenta: Who did she sleep with? Some homeless guy?

  Saki: Maybe it’s her dad lol

  Takumi: Too easy, but so plausible.

  Yuki: She deserves what’s happening to her, honestly.

  Ryo: Hope she dies.

  Mai: Nobody liked her in high school anyway.

  Kenta: Her breasts are gonna rot with milk, it’s gonna be gross.

  Saki: Stop, I’m gonna puke.

  Takumi: If she comes back to school, I’m requesting a transfer.

  Yuki: Relax, she won't. Girls like her end up on the street.

  Ryo: Or in a river lol

  I had to close my eyes. My breath stopped. My hands were shaking. These words. These fucking words written by kids who had never held a dying man in their arms, never announced a death to a family, never watched an eighteen-year-old girl empty herself of tears in a hospital room.

  I wanted to take them one by one. Shake them. Make them read what they had written. Ask them if they were proud. But I could do nothing. Nothing.

  I opened my eyes. Ariane was still there, motionless.

  "How did they find out?" I asked, my voice raw.

  She spoke at last. Her voice was toneless. Flat. Like she was reading a manual.

  "Maybe someone saw my parents throw me out. Maybe an orderly talked. Maybe someone followed me. Maybe it’s just a rumor that grew. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter."

  "Of course it matters!"

  "No." She turned her head toward me. Her eyes were dry. Totally dry. Like an empty well. "What matters isn't how they knew. It’s what they wrote. And you can’t erase that."

  She closed the computer slowly. The click of the lid echoed in the silence.

  "The worst part, Tanashi, is that some of them... I actually liked them."

  She looked at her hands resting on the laptop.

  "Yuki... she was my desk neighbor for three years. We shared our bentos at lunch. She told me her heartaches, I told her mine. Or so I thought." Her voice trembled, just a little.

  "Ryo... he used to lend me his study guides. We laughed together in the hallways. He said I was 'the funniest girl in class.'" She paused.

  "Mai was my gym partner. We were on the volleyball team together. She’d wave to me from across the net. I thought she was my friend."

  She looked up at me. Her eyes were still dry. But there was something worse than tears: a void.

  "Why, Tanashi? Why are people so cruel?"

  (The Assault) One day, while I was patrolling near the city center, my phone vibrated. Mila. She never called during my shift.

  "Tanashi! Come to the apartment, now!" she cried, her voice shaking.

  "Ariane? What’s happening?"

  "She went back to the school. She... she has marks everywhere. They didn't stop at insults this time."

  When I arrived, Ariane was prostrate on the sofa. Her uniform was torn at the shoulder, bruises marked her arms. She wasn't crying. She stared at an invisible point, as if she had retreated far away from here.

  "Who did this, Ariane?" I asked in a low voice, too low.

  She didn’t answer. She wrapped herself in my old sweater, trying to disappear. It was Mila who let the name drop.

  "It’s Gold-Striker’s son. Him and his gang. They say a 'girl like her' has no place in their elite school. And the principal... Tanashi, the principal said it was Ariane who provoked the incident with her 'immoral conduct.'"

  "Gold-Striker…" I repeated. "The Rank 5 Hero."

  Something gave way inside me. Not a snap. A silent collapse. I grabbed my jacket.

  "Tanashi, no!" Mila cried. "If you touch that kid, his father will destroy you! You’ll lose everything!"

  I stopped, hand on the doorknob. I felt my own gaze harden.

  "I don't care, Mila. If being a Hero means letting your son become a monster, then this world doesn't need heroes."

  I stepped out into the night, under the pouring rain. I wasn't going to talk. I wasn't going to negotiate. I was going to protect what had been entrusted to me.