The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 56: General Mia and Her Narcissistic Demon Patient

Chapter 56: General Mia and Her Narcissistic Demon Patient

The door didn’t just open; it surrendered.

A girl stormed in with the kind of presence that suggested she usually led cavalry charges before breakfast.

She looked to be about sixteen, with messy black hair tied back loosely and amber eyes that blazed with a terrifying level of annoyance. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, and she radiated an aura of pure, unadulterated fury—the kind that made you want to apologize for existing even if you hadn’t done anything wrong.

"What did I tell you three about bothering patients?!" she snapped at the children, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "He’s injured! He needs rest! Not you three pestering him with a million questions while he’s barely holding onto consciousness!"

The three kids flinched like they’d been caught stealing cookies from a locked cupboard.

"But big sis!" the little girl whined, pointing a trembling finger at me. "He’s a narcissistic handsome demon! We had to check!"

Mira’s eye twitched. Just slightly. "He is a human, you dimwits. Not a demon."

"But he looks like one!"

"He does not." She took a step forward, and the children scrambled backward so fast one of them nearly tripped over his own feet. "Now out. All of you. Before I decide to use you as practice for my healing experiments."

The children didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled for the door like their lives depended on it—which, judging by the look in her eyes, they probably did.

But as they ran past the bed, the oldest paused. He looked at me with serious eyes, trying his best to look threatening despite being all of ten years old and barely coming up to my waist.

"If you hurt our big sis," he said gravely, puffing out his small chest, "we’ll find a way to defeat you. Even if you are a handsome demon."

Then he ran off before I could respond.

The door slammed shut behind them, the wooden frame rattling from the force.

"Huh."

I stared at the closed door, then back at the girl. "Did I just get a death threat from a ten-year-old?"

She stood there for a moment, arms crossed, glaring at the doorway like she was mentally cataloging all the ways she was going to make those kids regret their life choices. Then she turned to me, and her expression softened.

"...Sorry about them." She walked closer, her eyes scanning my bandaged form with the kind of critical assessment I’d expect from a battlefield surgeon who’d seen one too many idiots do one too many stupid things.

"We don’t see many strangers in our village, so they get excited. Especially not ones who look like they crawled out of a monster’s dinner plate and somehow survived."

She pulled up a small wooden stool and sat by the bed. Up close, I could see the exhaustion lurking behind her fierce look. Dark circles bruised the skin under her amber eyes—a weight of tiredness that shouldn’t belong to a sixteen-year-old.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

I opened my mouth to answer. What came out was a rough, rattling cough that made my chest scream in protest and sent a fresh spike of pain through my shoulder.

She sighed heavily. "Stupid question. Of course you look like hell." She reached over and adjusted one of my bandages with practiced ease, her fingers surprisingly gentle.

"By the way, I’m the one who found you floating face-down in the stream like a very dramatic piece of driftwood. You almost scared me half to death. For a second, I thought a demon was crawling out of the water."

"..."

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I tried to speak again. My throat felt like sandpaper. "...Water..."

She blinked, then sighed—this girl sighed a lot, I was beginning to notice—and stood up. "Right. Right. Water first, questions later. Basic human needs before interrogation. Got it."

She grabbed a clay cup from a nearby table and filled it from a pitcher, then returned to my side.

"Here. Drink slowly, and try not to choke. If you die now after all the work I put into keeping you alive, I’ll be really annoyed."

She held the cup to my lips and I drank. The water was cool and perfect, sliding down my throat and clearing some of the fog from my brain. I drank until the cup was empty, then leaned back, breathing easier for the first time since I’d woken up.

"...Thanks," I managed.

"You’re welcome." She set the cup aside and looked at me expectantly. "Now. Answer some of my questions."

I took a breath and tried to organize my thoughts, which was harder than it should have been with my head still pounding and my body feeling like it had been used as a punching bag.

"What is your name?" She asked.

"I’m Leo," I said, my voice still rough but clearer than before. "...Leo von Celestial."

Her eyebrows rose. "Von Celestial? That sounds like a noble name."

"It is. I am a noble."

"Hmph." She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Well, Leo von Celestial with the complicated noble background, you’re in no condition to be moving. So stop trying."

I hadn’t even realized I’d been trying to sit up straighter. I eased back down with a wince.

"Sorry. Just... not used to lying around."

"Get used to it." She crossed her arms, fixing me with a glare that could have wilted flowers.

"By the way, my name is Mia Rayner," she said.

My eyes widened. Mia. The same name as my sister back home. Of all the names in this world, it had to be that one.

"Leo?" She frowned. "What’s wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

She nodded. "I see. Anyway, you’ve been unconscious for three days. Three. Days. You have deep claw marks across your chest. Your back looks like someone used it for target practice. You lost enough blood to fill a small bucket. And you want to move?"

"I was just—"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she wasn’t done.

"You were going to try. I can see it in your eyes. You’re one of those stubborn types who thinks resting is for weak people." She pointed a finger at me.

"Let me make this very clear. If you try to get up before your wounds have healed even a little, you will reopen everything. You will start bleeding again. You will probably pass out and hit your head. And then I will have to heal you all over again, which will be incredibly annoying for me."

I opened my mouth.

"Don’t interrupt. I’m not done." She held up a hand.

"You are going to stay in that bed for at least a week. You’re going to drink the broth I bring you. You’re going to take the herbs I prepare. You’re going to sleep when I tell you to sleep. And you are not, under any circumstances, going to do anything stupid like trying to walk or fight or jump into any more rivers. Do you understand?"

"..."

"Do you understand?" she repeated, louder.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it—"

"Do you? Because I’ve dealt with stubborn patients before. Old man Henrik from the east end thought he could go back to farming three days after I patched up his leg. You know what happened? His leg got infected and I had to cut it off."

My eyes widened. "You cut off his leg?"

"No, but I threatened to." She said it so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t tell if she was joking. "Point is, listen to me or you’ll suffer the consequences."

I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I get it! Slow down, please. My ears are starting to hurt now."

She stopped, took a breath, and then did something terrifying. She smiled. It was a perfectly sweet, innocent smile that felt way more dangerous than her yelling.

"Good. I’m glad we understand each other."

I stared at her. "...How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Switch from... that..." I gestured vaguely at the space where her fury had been, "to this, in like two seconds?"

She tilted her head, looking at me like I was the one being strange. "Do what?"

I shook my head in disbelief. This girl was something else.

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the distant chatter of children outside and the crackle of the fire somewhere in the main room. Then she tilted her head, those amber eyes curious again.

"So. What happened out there? How did you get those wounds?"

I hesitated, the memory of those yellow eyes flashing in my mind—the way they’d tracked me through the dark, the way they’d glowed with that cold, hungry intelligence. I could still feel them watching me, even now, even here.

"...I was trying to protect myself," I said slowly. "There was this... thing. In the jungle."

"What kind of thing?"

"Big. Black fur that didn’t reflect moonlight. Yellow eyes that didn’t blink. Claws that could tear through trees like they were made of paper."

Her expression shifted—something flickered behind those amber eyes. Recognition, maybe. Or fear. It was gone before I could name it.

"...And?"

I shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Well... I jumped in the water."

She stared at me. "You jumped in the water."

"Yeah."

"To escape a monster."

"That was the plan."

She kept staring. "You saw a monster with claws that could tear through trees. And your brilliant strategy was to jump into the water. Where monsters can also swim. Where you can’t breathe. Where the current could smash your head open on rocks."

I opened my mouth.

"I’m not finished." She held up a hand. "You chose to jump into moving water at night, in a jungle you don’t know, with wounds already bleeding, to escape something that probably swims better than you do."

"...When you put it like that—"

"When you put it like that, it sounds like you tried to drown yourself to avoid getting eaten."

"..."

I had no response to that.

She let out a long, slow breath. "Okay. I get it. It was a monster. A really scary monster. And when something’s trying to kill you, you don’t always make the smartest choices. That’s how people survive."

She paused.

"But jumping into a river is still the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard," she said, her voice climbing higher with every word, "and I once watched Old Man Henrik try to fight a bear with a frying pan."

"..."

I stared at her for a moment, trying to process what she’d just said, and then the laugh ripped out of me before I could stop it—loud and sudden and painful, my ribs screaming in protest the whole time.

"I’m serious!" She threw her hands up, her face turning red.

"He was trying to protect his chickens, not that the chickens were grateful, they just stood there pecking at the ground while he got thrown into a bush. He still walks with a limp. The bear stole his frying pan. He tells the story every harvest festival like it’s something to be proud of."

The image of an old man facing down a bear with kitchenware while chickens pecked obliviously around him was too much. I tried to stifle the laugh, which only made it worse, turning it into something that sounded more like a dying animal than actual amusement.

"I’m not laughing at Henrik," I wheezed, tears forming at the corners of my eyes, one hand pressed against my ribs like that would somehow make the pain stop. "I’m laughing at you."

"At me?" Her voice cracked incredulously. "I’m not the one who tried to drown himself to avoid a monster."

"I didn’t try to drown myself!"

"You literally jumped into a river with open wounds, at night, in a jungle you’ve never been to, where the current could have smashed your head open on rocks, all to escape something that probably swims better than you do. That’s not jumping into a river, that’s drowning with extra steps. That’s assisted suicide by geography. That’s—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "You’ve made your point."

She opened her mouth to continue anyway, then stopped. Looked at me clutching my ribs, face red, tears in my eyes, trying desperately to breathe.

She snorted.

It was an ugly sound—half laugh, half scoff, completely undignified. Her eyes went wide with horror at having made it, which only made me laugh harder, which made her face go redder, which made her try to cover her mouth, which made her accidentally snort again.

We sat there in her small, dim room—me wrapped in bandages, her trying to maintain any shred of dignity—both of us laughing at absolutely nothing.

It hurt. My ribs screamed with every breath. My shoulder throbbed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this.

She was the first to recover, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, still fighting a smile. "You’re an idiot."

"Takes one to know one."

She huffed, but the smile won out. "Fine. Maybe a little."

The laughter faded into comfortable silence. The fire crackled in the other room. Somewhere outside, a child was yelling about a frog.

"Henrik really fought a bear with a frying pan?" I asked eventually.

"He really did. The bear still has it. We see it sometimes, walking through the edge of the woods, carrying this dented old pan in its mouth." She shook her head. "Henrik still leaves out eggs for it. Says it earned them."

I laughed again, quieter this time. This village was something else.

_

She took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Then she smiled that innocent smile again.

"Okay." She crossed her arms. "Now. What happened after you jumped?"

I shrugged carefully, trying not to pull at my bandages. "I don’t remember much. The current took me. I hit my head at something I don’t know what it was. Next thing I know, I’m here."

"Hmph." She studied me for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. "Well, you’re lucky I was there. Another hour in that water and you’d be fish food."

"Thank you," I said. "For real. For saving my life."

She waved a hand dismissively. "You’re welcome."

"I mean it. I’d be dead if you hadn’t found me."

"You probably would be, yeah."

I laughed, then immediately regretted it when my ribs reminded me that laughing was still off-limits.

After a moment, something occurred to me. I looked down at the bandages wrapped around my chest, my arms, my shoulder. They were neat, tight, done with a care that spoke of experience. "You said you healed me. The wounds—"

"I stopped the bleeding and kept you from dying right there on the riverbank," she said, cutting me off. "That’s about all I could do. The real work came after."

She gestured toward the door with her chin.

"Elder Marta helped me carry you back. She’s the one who actually knows what she’s doing. Stitched you up, cleaned the wounds, made sure you didn’t lose any more blood. I just... helped."

"Elder Marta?"

"She is the head of the orphanage. She’s been patching up fools like you for longer than I’ve been alive." A small smile tugged at her lips. "You’re lucky she was still awake. Another hour and I would’ve had to figure it out myself."

"Ah... now I remembered. That was you," I said quietly. "The girl I saw on the riverbank. It was you."

She shrugged, looking away. "...Yes. But Elder Marta’s the one who actually heal with properly."

I nodded slowly. "Sounds like a good woman."

"She is." Mia’s voice was soft, almost reverent. "She’s the one who taught me to healing and how to I should treat patients. I learned a lot of thing from her. She is the best women."

She looked at her hands for a moment, like she was seeing something there that I couldn’t.

"Anyway." She stood up abruptly, brushing off her dress. "You need to rest. I’ll bring you some food later."

I didn’t argue. "Looking forward to it."

She walked to the door, then paused. Looked back.

"Oh, and Leo?"

"Yeah?"

She give me a sharp glare and I feels chill run down my spine. "Oh, and Leo? Don’t try to get up. If you do, I’ll tell the kids you’re secretly a monster who eats children who disobey doctors."

She was gone before I could ask how.

I stared at the closed door for a long moment.

Mia Rayner.

The name echoed in my head. So close to home. So close to the sister I left behind.

I thought about the girl who’d just walked out—fifteen years old, running an orphanage, stitching up fools who washed up on her riverbank. I thought about the weight she carried, the things she didn’t say, the way she brushed off thanks like she didn’t deserve them.

I thought about my own sister. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she’d wrap her tiny fingers around mine when we made pinkie promises.

Fate’s is truly funny thing, I thought. Putting another Mia in my path.

I lay back against the furs and stared at the wooden ceiling, letting the weight of everything settle around me.

Outside, I could hear the distant sounds of the village—voices, laughter, someone yelling at a child to stop running. Mia’s voice among them, sharp and commanding, ordering someone around.

I smiled and closed my eyes.

...And slept.