Transmigrated as a Cannon Fodder Reject, Then Became a Movie Star-Chapter 72: Sucker

The silence was loud—louder than any noise could’ve been.

Erisia let her gaze fall to the faint imprint of Kealith’s hand, which had rested beneath hers. Her fingers twitched slightly, rubbing against each other as if to erase the lingering warmth.

She wasn’t sure why she’d said what she said. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was empathy. Or maybe it was that strange feeling she’d had ever since finding out about Kealith’s situation—that some things were meant to be stirred back into their rightful place.

This wasn’t a story. Everyone here had their own lives, their own futures, and things were bound to happen because of their choices.

Actions—yes. To change something, one had to act.

Erisia drew a slow breath, steadying herself. She had decided—she would act. She would make Kealith veer off the path of descent he was walking toward.

When she looked up, Kealith’s eyes remained closed, but the faint rise and fall of his chest betrayed his wakefulness.

She tilted her head slightly.

He wasn’t what she’d expected, but she didn’t care. His appearance, his identity, made up for it. Both his character and real-life self were similar, yet different. But he was still Kealith Asheborne.

Outside, muffled voices drifted through the half-open door—Seliora’s firm tone blending with the doctors’. Somewhere down the hall, a metal tray clattered against the floor, punctuating the stillness. Life moved on, unbothered.

Erisia let out a quiet exhale and stood. "I’ll let you rest," she said softly, though he made no sign of hearing her.

As she turned toward the couch, she noticed Roy slip back into the room. For the first time since she’d met him, he spoke directly to her.

"Hello, Miss Wrenford. The food is ready. Mrs. Asheborne requested it be served on the balcony facing the garden. Please wait a moment—I’ll lead the way."

He stopped beside the bed. Kealith’s eyes flicked open just as Roy said, "Sir, allow me to help you."

Erisia stepped back as Roy positioned a sleek, black, high-tech wheelchair beside the bed.

The wheelchair gave off a soft hum as Roy activated it, its matte-black frame gleaming faintly under the hospital’s subdued lighting. It wasn’t bulky like traditional models—it was sleek, compact, and almost elegant in design, with a faint metallic sheen running along the edges. The seat adjusted automatically to Kealith’s height and posture, micro-sensors embedded in the armrests scanning his frame with a barely audible click. A small display flickered to life on the right armrest, lines of text and vitals appearing briefly before minimizing into a soft blue pulse.

Its wheels weren’t wheels in the usual sense—they were magnetic orbs that rotated silently, giving the chair an almost floating glide when it moved. The base hovered just a few centimeters above the floor, balanced by invisible stabilizers that adjusted to every tilt and shift in Kealith’s weight. Subtle whirs and clicks accompanied the movement.

Kealith nodded, his face impassive, and began to sit up. Using his arms for support, he shifted his body carefully, the motion deliberate and restrained. His jaw tightened, the effort evident in the tension of his movements.

A flash of alarm crossed Roy’s usually composed face. He stepped forward, but Kealith halted him with a low, strained, "I know my limit."

He moved his legs a little farther, sweat beading along his hairline. At last, Roy approached, looping Kealith’s arm over his shoulder to help guide him into the chair.

When Roy reached for the folded blanket on the table, Kealith tapped the armrest, signaling refusal. Without a word, Roy placed it back and turned toward Erisia, who stood quietly watching as Kealith maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door.

"Miss Wrenford, please—this way."

"Okay," Erisia murmured, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag as she followed a few steps behind.

Walking out from the muted, temperature-controlled room and transitioning to the sunlit corridor was almost jarring. The walls gleamed under the soft white lights, and not a trace of antiseptic scent lingered—only the faint aroma of freshly polished wood. Two doctors passed by, offering polite nods before continuing in silence.

When they reached the balcony, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

Sunlight streamed through tall glass doors, spilling over a wide terrace framed by lush greenery. Beyond the railings stretched the hospital’s private garden—trimmed hedges, a scattering of rose bushes, and a marble fountain murmuring softly in the distance.

A small round table stood near the edge, already set for two. Steam curled lazily from freshly prepared dishes, and a porcelain teapot with gold trim gleamed in the center.

"This way, please," Roy said, pulling a chair out for her and adjusting another slightly aside.

Erisia stepped forward, the sunlight soaking into her skin after the sterile chill of the hall. It felt almost too peaceful.

Instead of sitting, she drifted toward the glass railing, letting the warmth touch her face. The garden below was alive with quiet motion—the shimmer of leaves, the soft hum of bees near the flowers.

The sound of wheels rolling broke her thoughts. She turned her head and saw Kealith stop beside her, the chair’s height giving him an imposing presence even seated. The sunlight caught the line of his jaw, softening it, making him look almost... ethereal.

Erisia, you’re a sucker for stunning men.

When she realized he was still ignoring her, she turned away, closing her eyes briefly.

Kealith said nothing as he moved to the table. Then, without looking up, he spoke.

"It doesn’t seem like you’re hungry."

Erisia turned toward him—and right on cue, her stomach growled, loud enough to echo faintly off the railing. Her eyes went wide.

She clapped a hand over her stomach and whipped her head away, cheeks flushing as Kealith’s mouth twitched in what might’ve been a smirk. The trace of amusement vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only the faintest glimmer in his eyes.

Erisia decided not to care and smiled brightly. "As you can see, I’m very hungry."

With that, she took long strides to the table, sat in the chair Roy had pulled out, and hung her bag neatly on the backrest.

Her eyes swept over the spread before her—a beautiful brunch arrangement that looked like it came straight out of a lifestyle magazine. There was a plate of golden croissants still warm from the oven, a small bowl of mixed fruit drizzled with honey, scrambled eggs with herbs and soft cheese, and a side of lightly grilled salmon. Beside the porcelain teapot sat a pitcher of cold water beading with condensation, and two delicate glasses caught the sunlight like crystal.

Erisia reached for the serving spoon, dished her food with efficiency, and then poured water for both herself and Kealith. He glanced up briefly, his gaze soft but unreadable.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"You’re welcome," she replied, offering a small smile before turning her attention back to her plate. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Silence slipped back between them, not awkward, just quietly present. The soft burble of the fountain below mingled with birdsong and the faint, distant hum of hospital life beyond the garden walls.

For a while, neither spoke. Then, unexpectedly, Kealith broke the silence.

"You’re close to my mom," he said. "She seems to like you a lot."

So much that she wants us to be together, he thought, though he didn’t voice it.

Erisia’s lips curved faintly. "Yes. She’s warm and kind to me. Help me, call to check in sometimes." Her voice softened. "She’s like... the mother I didn’t have."

Kealith frowned, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly. "I’m sorry about your family."

Erisia paused mid-bite, then set her fork down. She met his eyes briefly before looking away. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I’m sorry too. You must know everything about it—"

"No, I don’t." His tone was flat but not dismissive. "I only heard when Eric was reporting it to my mom."

"I see."

And again, silence.

The breeze stirred faintly, brushing strands of hair across Erisia’s cheek. She tucked them behind her ear, eyes drifting over the garden’s calm expanse.

Then Kealith spoke again, his voice low and steady. "You said earlier... that things don’t always have to end the way people expect."

Erisia blinked, turning toward him. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, not on her, but his words were like something fragile he wasn’t sure he wanted to hope for.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I did."

He nodded once, a faint, unreadable expression crossing his face. "Then I hope you’re right."

The words weren’t quite hopeful—but they weren’t defeated either.

Which was what Erisia wanted.

...

They finished eating, and just as Erisia set her fork down, two attendants arrived to clear the table.

It was at that moment that Seliora returned. She stopped at the doorway, taking in the sight before her—the two of them sitting side by side, quiet, distant, almost... polite.

Her brows furrowed. Polite? That wasn’t the progress she wanted.

"Finished eating?" she asked, her voice carrying that signature warmth. Her gaze flicked between her son and Erisia, finally landing on the latter.

Erisia smiled politely and nodded. "Yes, I enjoyed it. It was delicious. Thank you."

"You’re welcome." Seliora’s smile softened, genuinely pleased, before she turned to her son.

Kealith felt her eyes boring into the side of his face and reluctantly turned to meet them.

Seliora arched her brow.

He blinked once, expression unchanging.

Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She mouthed clearly, What the hell are you doing?

Kealith’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze sliding away as if the scenery had suddenly become fascinating.

Seliora’s smile widened—dangerously so.

Erisia, oblivious to the silent exchange, was thanking one of the staff who had brought out fresh tea. The faint steam curled between them, the floral scent mingling with the garden breeze.

Seliora crossed the distance, taking a seat opposite them. "I hope my son wasn’t too dull of a companion," she said lightly, though her tone carried an undertone that made Kealith’s fingers twitch against the armrest of his wheelchair.

Erisia blinked, startled. "Oh, no! Not at all. He’s very—" She paused, searching for the right word. "—composed."

Seliora chuckled softly. "Ah, yes. Composed. That’s one way to put it."

Kealith exhaled quietly, the faintest sigh escaping him. "Mother."

"Yes, dear?" she replied sweetly, turning to him.

He met her gaze evenly. "You’re doing that thing again."

"What thing?" Seliora tilted her head innocently. "I’m just making conversation."

Erisia bit back a smile. The exchange was strangely comforting, even familiar.

Seliora turned her attention back to her, her tone softening. "You know, Erisia, you’re always welcome to visit again. I imagine the atmosphere here can get dull." Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward Kealith, who looked unimpressed.

Erisia smiled politely. "Thank you, Mrs. Asheborne. I appreciate that."

"Good." Seliora leaned back, looking satisfied, though her gaze briefly cut toward her son again with a subtle, unmistakable Behave.

Kealith’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Seliora rose after a moment, "I have another meeting with Dr. Han in fifteen minutes. You two can stay here a while longer."

Erisia nodded. "Of course."

As Seliora turned to leave, she gave her son one last pointed glance over her shoulder. Try not to scare her off this time.

Kealith didn’t react outwardly, but the quiet sigh that escaped him afterward said enough.

When the door finally closed behind Seliora, Erisia glanced at him, amused. "You two have... interesting communication."

He gave a slow blink. "That’s one way to describe it."

She laughed softly, the tension easing. "I like her. She’s... lively."

"Lively," Kealith echoed, voice flat. "That’s generous."

She smiled, leaning back in her chair. "You’re not exactly the talkative type, so I think it balances out."

He looked at her then—really looked—and the corner of his lips twitched again. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It was."