My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 502: Visiting Hours

The downstairs felt desolate, barren, signs of life every to be seen but not a single soul to be found.

For the time being, all daily routines had to be put on hold according to the monthly procedure, and as such the crisp sizzling sounds of breakfast was nowhere to be heard in the kitchen, the usual morning broadcast on the television instead replaced by a silent black mirror, and the only footsteps that seem to squeak the creaky, worn floorboards were Ash’s and my own.

Of course... everyone else’s upstairs currently, they’re always upstairs. For an hour, sometimes two, just to give some assurances, offer some support, and maybe indirectly, to even receive some ourselves...

Except, apparently this time, a certain stubborn somebody was seemingly recently depleted of all assurances and support to give.

“Oh, you’re back. About time. Had fun? Hope you did. Did you?”

At the foot of the staircase, phone hovering mid-air as a finger swiped lazily away, Sammy was all snob and slob, in striped pajamas, bleary blue eyes that yearned for sleep, and frazzled hair that made her look like she was wearing a large brown bush as a wig, that or, she jabbed a fork into a random outlet.

I’m going with outlet, judging by the level of self-awareness in that faraway gaze, I wouldn’t put it past her to give it a go in her state.

.....

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, if nothing else but to sidestep her inquiry.

Sammy brushed away some stray brown leaves from her eyes, and raised it, directing a resentful stare at the poor, poor ceiling.

“She started having a coughing fit somewhere around three,” She rubbed an eye. “I gave up trying to get some sleep around five...” then rubbed the other. “Her bedroom became quiet around eight.”

“Oh, well... how is she do – ”

“Did you have fun?” She asked again, snapping her dreary grumpy stare back over towards Ash and me. “I’m assuming you had a better time than I did at least, right? Hey, Ash... had a good sleep last night? comfortable enough? soft? snug?” She cocked her head. “Hard?”

In a span of microseconds, Ash had waged an internal war within her own head over whether to answer her question or not, and judging by the way she was fidgeting around, it seems there’s yet to be a victor.

But before she could say something that we might both regret, I took Ash by the hand, literally sidestepping Sammy by shuffling up the stairs. “I’ll go see how she’s doing for myself, then.”

Then – halted. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth step up, Ash rooted herself in place, pulling her arm back towards her with a shake of the head.

“That indeed you will, Master,” She said, her tone, like compassion given voice. “Alone. Without my distractions, my intrusions. A moment with your mother now deserves its intimacy, familiarity, that of which my presence would only serve to blemish. For the time being, it is best that I remain here.”

I gave her a look. “You sure, Ash?”

“I am,” Sammy piped up, looking back at us with raised brows. “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea, leave her with me, big bro... I’d love nothing more than to hear all about your little camping trip.”

Once again, I gave her a firmer look, seeing danger signs. “You really sure, Ash?”

She gave a smile, as sure as can be. “Fret not, I’ll do my utmost to remain discreet.”

Good enough for me, I guess.

“I’ll be quick,” I said.

Then just as I reached the summit of the second-floor hall, I could hear Sammy’s voice say out loud. “Not too quick, I hope. Especially last night, that’d just be pathetic...”

This girl, I swear... no tact at all. I have no clue where the hell she gets it from either. But I can worry about that some other time, I have more pressing matters to deal with presently.

I made sure to keep my knocks slow and soft as I rapped on my knuckles on the bedroom door. The slightest noise was like a sledgehammer to head as Dad described it, and to this day, I still find myself checking how loud my breaths were when I’m around her.

After a while, the door slowly parted open, and speak of the devil, Dad’s bright blue eyes were the ones peering back at me through the dark narrow gap. The residential nurse of this hospital... I hear that he’s also a part-time farmer in his spare time.

Pretty cool.

“You’re back,” He said with a grunt, subtly assessing me up and down. “How was – ?”

“Fine,” I replied before he could finish. “And how is...?”

A single glance, and instantly he understood. With a soft creak, he widened the gap even more, “See for yourself,” he said, making way for me to pass through by stepping off to the side.

“It’s nearing ten, and I need to meet with Steven, he’s delivering the horses today,” He proclaimed out loud all of a sudden, before abruptly leaving just as I entered. “Do not get out of bed while I’m gone, please.”

From the darkness, nearby, confined in a thick comfortable bundle of blankets and pillows, a feeble raspy chuckle quietly emerged. “You worry too much, sweetheart...”

“Not yet,” He replied, silently closing the door on his way out. “Don’t give me a reason to.”

The smell. It was the first thing I always noticed. I never got used to it. That strong pungent vinegar-like odor that pervaded every inch of the bedroom, it’s to help her condition supposedly... some kind of medicine Dad always used to tell me nondescriptly.

I don’t doubt that it helps, but I do doubt that it was some kind of medicine. Call it gut feeling.

“Mmm, someone’s back home, I see,” spoke that same feeble voice. “Welcome back, dear.”

Countless times I’ve stood here, in this same darkness, in this same crampedness, facing this same scene in front of me. That haggard frail silhouette lying down at one end of the bed, a wastebasket on the ground beside her teeming with crumpled tissue plies, blister packs ripped and empty, a good book or two on the other side maybe, if she was feeling up to it.

Guess this time, she wasn’t.

“Have you eaten yet?” I asked.

Faintly, slowly, I could see her head motion to an empty bowl at the bedside table. “Dad made the soup. Though I must say, he isn’t as good as you are. But don’t let him know that, would you?”

“Water? Medicine?” I continued to ask. “How long since you slept?”

That’s when a smile formed on her pale, dry lips. “Really dear, you’re almost as bad as your father. Take a page from your sister, see, she’s not too worried about it like how you both are.”

“From how it looks to me, she doesn’t seem worried enough.”

“Ah, well,” She gave her shoulders a shrug. “Teenagers, right?”

It was an attempt to lighten the tension, a good one too, and it would have worked, had she not suddenly erupted into another loud coughing fit immediately right after.

With practiced motions, she swiped for another ply and pressed it against her mouth. It lasted only moments, barely a few seconds... but the strain visible on her expression made it seem like ages. It was one of the only rare few things that could take away the smile from her face, as it did just then.

I couldn’t do anything about it. I just heard her, saw her, as the pain and agony tore apart her calm, mischievous demeanor, contorting it into something vile, something repugnant, and it stayed that way for as long as it wished.

Thankfully, as stated, it didn’t last for long... and gradually, I could recognize her again.

She breathed, leaning her back against the pillows, the pain ebbing away from her clenched muscles, and as she discarded the crumpled ply, I saw briefly, splotches of dark red staining the fabric before it joined the mounting pile atop the wastebasket.

Then – as if nothing had transpired at all in the last few seconds, her smile reemerged just as cheery and sweet.

“So, leaving Sammy aside, why don’t we talk more about you?” She asked, her raspy voice doing its best to sound its normal self. “I assume you’ve been up to quite a number of things lately. More importantly, did you have fun?”

Okay, now I know where Sammy had gotten it from. What a bad influence.

“Do I dare hope in eight to nine months’ time for a little bundle of surprise? Or did you play it safe? Were you safe? That’s mighty responsible of you, but I do hope that you weren’t.”

I could only sigh.

“Y’know, I never realized my family was this full of busybody deviants,” I said.

“Takes one to know one, dear,” She said with an audible pride to her tone. “And need I remind you that you’re the one here with the unusually feminine company for, umm... company? Why, hello there, Mr. Pot...”

Okay, well, right, she’s got me there. Touche.