Transmigrated as a Cannon Fodder Reject, Then Became a Movie Star-Chapter 74: Strangers

The ride to the hospital was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the faint shuffle of city sounds outside. Erisia watched the world blur by through tinted glass—sunlight slicing between buildings, people hurrying across crosswalks, the occasional burst of laughter from a café terrace.

By the time she reached the hospital, the afternoon light had softened to a gentle gold, painting the glass walls of the building in warm reflection.

The driver led her through the main entrance and up to the VIP floor. The corridor today was not quiet—there were more bodyguards than there had been yesterday, and before they reached the lounge, Erisia heard voices. As they passed, she turned her head slightly to see three people in office outfits gathered around a small table, laptops and tablets open, speaking in low tones.

When the door to Kealith’s ward opened, she half-expected the same calm scene as yesterday—him reading something or working. Instead, the first thing she noticed was the faint clatter of cutlery.

Kealith was sitting upright in bed, the tray table positioned neatly in front of him, eating what looked like a smaller version of the lavish spread they’d had for brunch the day before. The setting sun poured through the wide window beside him, catching on the sleek lines of his wristwatch as he cut a piece of chicken with precise, unhurried movements.

He looked up at the sound of the door and paused briefly.

"Good afternoon," Erisia said, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind her.

Kealith’s gaze flicked toward her and stayed for a few seconds before returning to his plate. "Hmm."

She blinked, stepping forward. "Did you say something?"

Kealith only glanced at her this time and replied coolly, "No."

Erisia stared at him for a second, then nodded. "Okay," she said lightly, and smiled. She placed her bag down and looked around the room.

It was already tidy, but the kind of tidy that looked too deliberate—pillows slightly askew, a glass of water left unfinished, an empty jug, a few things out of place. So she tidied everything up. Straightened the pillows, cleared the side table, placed the glass neatly beside the jug, and adjusted the blanket folded on the chair.

As she moved, Kealith watched her—quietly, without expression. And when she finally turned around, satisfied with her little adjustments, he smoothly went back to eating so she wouldn’t know he’d been observing her the whole time.

"Um, where’s Seliora?" she asked after a moment. "Did she go out before I came?"

Kealith paused, then said, "No. She hasn’t come over today at all. But she’s been asking about you since this morning."

"I see." Erisia nodded, then sank onto the couch. She picked up her phone, scrolling idly before tapping into the group chat Soraya had created for the four of them—herself, Rita, Ciara, and Erisia.

❃ Ciara: Guess what, guys? We’re coming back! Ugh, Nevada is so fucking hot I could go naked and still melt.

❃ Rita: Don’t care. Hope you brought back my souvenirs.

❃ Ciara: Oh, Rita, sorry about that but I didn’t bring any for you, so shoo 💋.

❃ Rita: You little shit! How dare you?! I’ve been so high on the ladder of expectation that you can definitely—I repeat, definitely—not drop me down this badly!!

❃ Soraya: Uhh, Rita, I also went there, remember? I can get you stuff that Ciara didn’t bother to.

❃ Rita: No! There are things I asked her to bring. She has to!

❃ Soraya: Okay, what are they? Maybe I can grab them before we leave?

❃ Erisia: Soraya, just leave her. Bring whatever you want. Wishing you guys a safe trip.

❃ Soraya: Thank you ❤️

❃ Ciara: Yeah, thanks. Hey Rita, won’t you wish us?

❃ Rita: Oh, I will wish you. Your journey shall be safe... and you shall arrive safely.

❃ Soraya: ...Okay, why does that sound ominous?

❃ Ciara: Yeah, Rita, why do I feel cursed?

❃ Rita: I don’t know. But it’s said that people who’ve done something bad often feel that way 😌

❃ Erisia: I’m leaving. Bye!

❃ Ciara: LMAOO 💀

Erisia smiled and exited the chat before the argument reignited. She shook her head, set her phone aside, and looked up.

Kealith was done eating. The tray sat pushed aside, and he was sipping water with the same quiet precision as before.

"You tidied up the ward," he said suddenly, without looking at her.

Erisia blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... yeah."

He nodded once. Still not meeting her gaze. "You didn’t have to."

"I know," she said simply. "But it was messy."

His mouth twitched—barely visible, but there. "It wasn’t."

"Hmm. So now you’re saying you like living in a mess?"

Kealith finally looked at her, one brow faintly raised. "I didn’t say that either."

"Then what did you say?" she asked, teasing lightly, trying to break through that wall of detachment he always carried like armor.

He set the glass down, tone calm as ever. "That you didn’t have to."

"Right." She crossed one leg over the other, unfazed. "But I wanted to."

A brief silence followed. His gaze lingered on her for a beat before he looked toward the window again.

The light had shifted from gold to muted amber, softening the corners of the room. The low hum of the AC filled the quiet between them.

Then Kealith asked suddenly, "You came again because my mother asked you to?"

Erisia glanced at him. "Mostly, yes."

He nodded slightly, eyes still on the window. "You’re easy to convince."

She smiled faintly. "Only when it’s about nice people."

"And you think my mother’s nice?"

"I think she’s kind," she corrected. "There’s a difference."

He gave a quiet hum. "Kindness is rarely free, especially between strangers."

Her brows lifted slightly. "Meaning?"

He finally looked at her. "People are kind to strangers when they want something—from them, or from themselves."

Erisia blinked at that, unsure if it was meant to offend her or simply state a fact. His tone hadn’t changed—it was cool, detached—but his words carried the subtle edge of someone who’d long stopped expecting sincerity.

She let it slide, offering a gentle smile instead. "Then I’ll take that as you thinking I’m naive."

"Naive," he repeated, considering. "No. Just... persistent."

"Persistent sounds better. I’ll take it."

...

A knock sounded on the door.

Kealith set his glass down. "Come in."

Two people entered—the same ones Erisia had glimpsed earlier in the lounge. The first was a woman dressed in a sharp charcoal pantsuit, her short dark hair tucked neatly behind her ears. The second was a man in a navy suit, carrying a tablet and a stack of neatly bound documents.

They greeted Kealith in unison, "Good afternoon, sir."

Then they noticed her. For a split second, both their expressions flickered—surprise, recognition, and then the quick, professional mask of composure.

Erisia gave a polite smile and a small nod. They returned it with the kind of restrained politeness reserved for someone whose presence they didn’t quite understand but wouldn’t question aloud.

The woman—his secretary, clearly—moved closer to the bedside table, laying out the documents. The man stood just behind her, tablet in hand, occasionally swiping as if reviewing notes.

Erisia thought about the man’s job and concluded that the man could be his corporate liaison—someone responsible for handling communication between Kealith and the company’s various department heads, ensuring his directives and approvals move efficiently while he’s hospitalized.

Once they began talking business, the relaxed atmosphere around Kealith vanished.

Gone was the patient recovering from an accident—what replaced him was the Kealith Asheborne from the novel: strategic, brilliant, and unnervingly composed.

He scanned through the first document with a brief glance. "Was this approved last week?"

"Yes, sir," his secretary said quickly. "The partnership proposal with VynTech for the AI-assisted automation model—"

"Terminate it."

The man looked up, startled. "Terminate—sir, the board already—"

"The board follows profit margins, not potential." His tone was calm, but it sliced through the room like a blade. "Their R&D output is six months behind schedule, and the product design team hasn’t met one deadline in the last quarter. Partnering with them would be like tying a brick to a swimmer and hoping he learns to float."

Silence. The secretary nodded briskly. "I’ll see to it immediately."

He moved on. "Next."

The man presented another document. "These are the revised projections for the NeoLink prototype. The analytics team believes—"

"They’re overcompensating to cover a 4.3% dip in consumer retention," Kealith interrupted, eyes flicking over the graphs. "Tell them to redo it. I want honest numbers, not optimistic ones. The last thing I need is a department that massages data to please shareholders."

Erisia sat quietly on the couch, half-fascinated, half-stunned. He wasn’t even being harsh—just bluntly correct. Every time they tried to anticipate his opinion, he was already five steps ahead, dismantling assumptions with logic so precise it almost hurt.

At one point, the secretary hesitated before asking, "Sir, should we proceed with the Helios deal negotiations?"

Kealith finally looked up, eyes cool. "If they’re still using third-party servers, then no. I don’t build alliances on unstable ground."

The man nodded quickly, typing notes.