Chapter 101: MIKE AND ELBA
Mike’s POV
I slipped the gloves off my hands before turning to the three nurses in the operating room. I strictly instructed them to finish up the rest of the post-op procedures before moving the boy—who had miraculously pulled through the surgery—to his ward. I told them to keep a close eye on him and let them know I would be upstairs on the top floor if they needed me, as I desperately needed a break myself before heading out.
The entire hospital building belonged to my father. After I graduated, he wanted to send me off to some massive, prestigious hospital, but I told him I wanted this building instead. He made me earn it, forcing me to work in his best friend’s hospital first, where I had to successfully pull off three of the hardest surgeries of the year just to prove myself.
His friend had begged me to stay and become the head doctor, but I turned down the massive paycheck. I wanted to start something of my own. When my father finally handed over the keys to this building, I turned it into a small version of my own imagination, always aiming for more.
I made it everything I wanted. While the other floors were solely dedicated to medical work, the very top floor was my home. I didn’t see the need to live anywhere else, especially with constant emergencies. At first, I had rented a flat nearby, but in an entire month, I only went there maybe two days—basically one day every two weeks—and that was only because of my girlfriend at the time. When she finally broke off our relationship, I fully moved into the hospital since I was practically living here anyway. Gradually, I turned it into my own little sanctuary.
Until now, no one had been interested enough to ever come up there—not even Xender or Charles, since my office always had plenty of room for our discussions. Having someone actually interested in seeing that private little space suddenly made me incredibly nervous.
I made my way downstairs to the receptionist on duty, who had received the pizza and the few other things I had ordered. With my hands full of takeout and shopping bags, I stepped back into the elevator and headed up to the private ward on the floor right below mine.
When I stopped outside her door, I caught a glimpse of her through the transparent glass pane near the top edge of the door frame. She was standing by the window, her impossibly long hair falling all the way down to her feet. I still couldn't believe someone like her actually existed. It felt like I was daydreaming, like none of this was real.
I raised my hand to knock, but she turned immediately, her eyes locking onto mine through the glass. She looked absolutely breathtaking. When I pulled the door open and she smiled at me, I completely forgot how to breathe.
“You're an hour late,” she said.
I immediately gasped for air, trying to return her smile as I stepped deeper into the room, balancing the crinkling takeout and shopping bags.
“Sorry, the situation with my patient wasn't actually as straightforward as it was supposed to be,” I said nervously, my gaze searching hers.
She looked significantly better and stronger for someone who had recently suffered a deep, traumatic injury to her lower abdomen. I wanted to ask if her kind possessed some sort of accelerated healing ability, but I held back. I didn't want her to think I was just viewing her as a medical anomaly or trying to ask the kind of clinical, experimental questions any other doctor would ask.
“It's okay. I understand,” she replied softly.
“Uh... please don't get mad at me, but aren't you in any pain?” I asked, the worry bleeding into my voice. “I'm asking because I'm your doctor, and for someone with an injury as deep as yours, you're looking remarkably strong—and you're eating things you really shouldn't be eating yet.”
“Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It's gone,” she said. I frowned, struggling to comprehend her words.
Gone? What does she mean, gone?
“Can we go now? I'm really hungry,” she added.
I immediately snapped out of my thoughts and gave her a quick nod, struggling to keep my grip on the heavy bags in my hands. “Yes, sure. This way.”
I smiled and turned toward the door, but one of the bags slipped from my fingers. I frantically tried to catch it, but my hands were too full. Before it could hit the hard floor, it suddenly stopped, hovering mid-air.
I whipped around just in time to see a brilliant glow fading from her eyes, though the bag remained suspended in the air.
“Do you want me to help you with those as well?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful smile that never left her face.
Before I could even answer, the bags clutched in my hands slowly slipped from my grip, floating right up to join the first one. I couldn't help but laugh. I just couldn't believe my eyes.
“Shall we?” she asked, walking out into the corridor. The bags seamlessly floated right after her. I just stood there, staring in utter fascination.
“Aren't you coming?” she called back.
“Right behind you,” I said, quickly following her.
I led her into the elevator, the floating bags drifting in behind us. The moment I hit the button for the top floor and the elevator started to ascend, she completely froze.
“Is this how you fly?” she asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and shock.
“Not really. We call it a lift, or an elevator, instead of flying,” I responded, watching her expressions closely.
“Not bad. I must admit, you humans do have powers. It's very creative thinking,” she said. I couldn't help but giggle at her perspective.
“So, what about you? Do elves only have the ability to make things float?” I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity any longer.
“Not at all. Each of us has our own unique abilities,” she said, her eyes locked onto mine.
“So what about you? What is your specific ability?” I asked as the elevator finally chimed and came to a halt. We stepped out, and I led her straight to my front door.
“I have far more powers than just making things float,” she replied simply. I unlocked the door and pulled it open, gesturing for her to step inside.
Once we walked in, I let her take in the space. She gently settled the floating bags down onto the kitchen table, and after a moment, she wandered out onto the balcony to look at the view. I stayed inside, unpacking the groceries and filling up the refrigerator.
After a few minutes, she stepped back inside, her eyes still wandering around the apartment.
“Your home looks beautiful,” she said. She immediately walked over to the living room and threw herself onto the couch. I watched her giggle as she began bouncing up and down on the cushions like an exploring child.
“I haven't sat on one of these in like a hundred years,” I thought I heard her mutter, but my attention quickly shifted back to the last bag sitting on the table.
I had ordered some clothes for her—something comfortable she could change into to get out of the hospital gown. I had done my absolute best to find something similar in style to the clothing she had arrived in.
“Do you want to take a shower?” I asked nervously. I wasn't entirely sure how the phrase would translate to her.
Just as I feared, the playful smile instantly vanished from her face. She stood up from the couch and turned to face me fully.
“What did you just say?” she asked, her voice dropping.
“I... I... mean, it's not what you think!” I stammered, my face heating up. “I was only thinking... since you haven't had a chance to bathe all day because you were injured, I wanted to know if you wanted to wash up. I can completely step outside if I'm making you feel uncomfortable—”
“Stay!” she said, cutting me off so quickly it caught me entirely off guard.
My gaze met hers, and the sudden, undeniable tension that flooded the room made my heart race.
“What I meant was... I can't run a bath for myself because I don't actually know how to use your human plumbing. But you could help me,” she added quickly after we had stared at each other for a long, quiet moment.
“Oh. Right. Of course. I'll go run the bath for you,” I stammered, turning on my heel and practically fleeing toward the bathroom.
It didn't take me long to get everything ready. I adjusted the water temperature perfectly and set out everything she could possibly need—from body wash and shampoo to a plush bathrobe and a neatly folded towel.
I called her over, and she stepped into the bathroom. As I tried to explain how the handles and the showerhead worked, she kept giggling. I paused, staring at her.
“Why do you keep laughing?” I asked, a smile tugging at my own lips.
“You just look like a father teaching his child how to take their very first bath by themselves,” she teased.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but absolutely nothing came out.
“Don't worry. I can manage the actual washing part myself,” she added, her eyes crinkling.
I nodded quickly, backing out of the room to give her the privacy she needed.
Not long after, I stepped into the kitchen to start preparing some soup. But before I could even chop the first ingredient, a piercing scream echoed from the bathroom. Panic seized me, and I went racing back toward the door in total shock.