Rebirth: A Second chance at life-Chapter 36: Was it frustration? Admiration? He wasn’t sure

Aurora’s gaze remained steady as she spoke, her tone calm yet firm. "We’ll begin her treatment today.

She pulled out a small slip of paper and handed it to Sebastian. "Bring me these herbs as soon as possible. I need them within an hour."

Sebastian took the slip, his gaze flickering over the list before looking back at her.

"They’re available at an old medicinal shop down the alley in the southern market," she continued. "Just six blocks away from the city hospital. Be quick."

There was an unspoken urgency in her tone, one that left no room for delay. Sebastian didn’t bother questioning her; he simply gave a curt nod before handing the slip to Liam.

"Make it fast," he ordered, his voice firm and unquestionable.

"I will take Jenny for the acupuncture treatment, and after that, she will be given a medicinal bath," Aurora stated before gently taking Jenny’s hand and leading her upstairs to a guest room—the one closest to her own.

Sebastian gave Liam a brief glance, silently conveying his expectations before turning to follow Aurora. His footsteps were steady, his gaze unreadable as he trailed behind them, watching as Aurora handled Jenny with a quiet, practiced ease.

Aurora carefully helped Jenny lie down on the bed, her movements precise yet gentle. From the depths of her pocket, she pulled out a worn leather pouch, its contents glinting under the dim light—dozens of fine silver needles. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her hands before beginning the meticulous process of inserting the needles at key acupoints—her neck, chest, head, and feet.

Minutes turned into half an hour, and by the time Aurora had finished, Jenny resembled a delicate porcupine, her small frame covered in thin silver needles. The procedure demanded immense focus, and by the time Aurora withdrew her hands, exhaustion weighed heavily on her body. She turned to Sebastian, her voice laced with fatigue.

"She needs to stay like this for another forty-five minutes. Ask Bishop to remove the needles—he knows how to do it." The words left her lips barely above a whisper before her body gave in to exhaustion.

Before she could hit the ground, Sebastian moved. His arms caught her effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful. Looking down at her pale face, his expression darkened with concern.

.

.

Sebastian stood frozen for a moment, watching as Aurora worked with unwavering precision, her fingers deftly placing each needle onto Jenny’s frail body. He had seen many skilled doctors in his life, but something about the way she moved—calm, methodical, and utterly focused—left him speechless.

Thirty minutes passed, and as she placed the final needle, Sebastian noticed the fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead. Her breathing was uneven, her body visibly drained. Then, just as she instructed him to call Bishop, her body wavered, and before he could process what was happening, she collapsed.

His reflexes kicked in instantly. In one swift motion, he caught her, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The weight of her exhaustion pressed against him, her body unusually cold. Without hesitation, he carried her in a princess hold and gently laid her down on the nearby sofa.

His first instinct was to call for a doctor, but before he could reach for his phone, Bishop’s voice cut through the tense air.

"Don’t worry, Mr. Harper," Bishop said calmly, stepping forward. "Dr. Elena is suffering from an illness. She’ll wake up soon."

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. "An illness?" His voice was sharp, laced with something unreadable.

Bishop, unfazed, knelt beside Aurora and pulled out a small vial. Without hesitation, he tilted her head slightly and fed her a pill. "She just needs rest. This will help."

Sebastian clenched his jaw, his gaze lingering on Aurora’s pale face. He didn’t like this—didn’t like not knowing. But for now, he stayed silent, watching as Bishop tended to her with the same level of care she had shown Jenny.

Bishop stared at Aurora’s face for a few seconds, his sharp eyes filled with contemplation. He had known this would happen. Luna had warned him beforehand about the frailty of the original host’s body, expressing doubts about whether she could handle the strain of treating Jenny. Acupuncture required precision, control, and most importantly—strength. Strength that Aurora’s body severely lacked.

But Luna being Luna... even after dying once and waking up in another person’s body, she couldn’t abandon her true self. No matter how much she tried to live differently, at her core, she was still a doctor. And a doctor saves lives—even if it means pushing herself past her limits.

With a sigh, Bishop shook his head. "You never change," he murmured under his breath before moving to help her.

Bishop glanced at Sebastian and spoke calmly, "She will wake up in an hour."

The room fell into a hushed silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Bishop stood by, his expression unreadable, while Sebastian remained rooted in place, his gaze fixed on Aurora’s peaceful yet exhausted face.

He had seen countless people collapse from exhaustion before—businessmen, fighters, even his own enemies. But watching her, something about it felt different.

The way she had pushed herself past her limits, disregarding her own well-being, stirred an unfamiliar emotion in him. Was it frustration? Admiration? He wasn’t sure.

Sebastian maintained a stoic expression, yet his gaze lingered on Aurora’s face for several long minutes. The image of her sharp, mischievous eyes and that vibrant confidence she carried flashed through his mind—so different from the fragile figure lying before him now.

This was the third time he had heard someone mention her illness, yet he held back from asking. He wasn’t the type to pry, nor did he wish to overstep his boundaries. And yet, an unshakable curiosity settled in his chest.

"She said to remove the needles after forty-five minutes," Sebastian murmured, his gaze still fixed on Aurora.

Bishop nodded, his expression unreadable. "I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t argue. He wasn’t used to feeling this kind of unease, yet watching Aurora push herself to the brink just to save a child—it left a strange impression on him.

He glanced at Jenny, still lying motionless with the silver needles carefully placed along her body. The sight was unsettling, but he trusted Aurora’s skills. Even so, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Was she truly strong enough to handle all this?

His fingers curled into a fist as he leaned back, exhaling softly. Forty-five minutes. That was all.

Jenny had drifted into a peaceful slumber, her breathing steady and untroubled. Aurora had skillfully pressed specific acupoints, allowing her tense little body to relax completely. The exhaustion and unease that once marred her face had melted away, leaving behind an innocence untouched by pain.

As the clock marked forty-five minutes, Bishop stepped forward with quiet precision. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as he began removing the silver needles one by one. Each extraction was smooth, each needle carefully disinfected before being placed back into Aurora’s leather pouch. There was no hesitation in his hands—only the quiet confidence of someone well-versed in his craft.

Sebastian stood in silence, his gaze shifting between Jenny’s serene expression and Bishop’s methodical work. The sight of the countless needles embedded in her fragile frame should have been unsettling, yet there was an inexplicable sense of tranquility in the room.

As Bishop placed the last disinfected needle into the leather pouch, his sharp eyes flickered toward Aurora. Just as he turned, he noticed her stirring, her brows faintly knitting together as she hovered between wakefulness and exhaustion. Without hesitation, he reached for the ceramic bottle resting on the bedside table, plucked out a small herbal pill, and gently pressed it against her lips.

Aurora instinctively parted her mouth, allowing the bitter remedy to dissolve on her tongue. A quiet moment passed, the room filled with nothing but the rhythmic breaths of its occupants. Then, after ten minutes, her lashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes that had lost some of their earlier fatigue.

She sat up slowly, rolling her stiff shoulders before raising a hand to massage the back of her neck and the space between her brows.