You finally forced the door open before dawn on the fifth day.
The scene you witnessed sent chills down your spine.
The girl lay pale on the floor, blood dripping from her nose and mouth.
Books and manuscripts were scattered everywhere, making the room look desolate.
There was no time to think. Despite not having slept for two days and two nights, you picked the girl up and ran to the hospital.
…
Looking at the diagnostic report you already understood, a chill ran through your body.
It was the same illness as her father's, with no apparent cause and no warning: "autoimmune encephalitis"…
Her current condition is very critical. Her immune cells are aggressively attacking her neurons. If we cannot find a way to control it, her brain may not be able to withstand it.
The doctor's words were heavy. Looking at little Herta lying on the hospital bed, your heart felt as if it had been struck by lightning.
The sky had collapsed…
In an instant, your mind fell into chaos, and a surge of powerless rage rose within you.
Why?
Why did this happen?
Would Herta end up like her father?
No.
Absolutely not!
"Doctor, please save her… She is the only family I have left in this world…"
You begged desperately, pleading with the doctor to save Herta, unable to imagine her leaving you as well.
"With her current condition, we can only try to buy as much time as possible. The probability of these symptoms occurring is extremely low, so for now, there is no possibility of a cure…"
Very low probability.
Very low probability…
You remembered the words of the doctor who had treated her father.
"The probability of this happening is less than one in a billion…"
"For encephalitis to recur with such severity, the probability is negligible…"
Then how could this happen twice in a row to the people closest to you?
You were on the verge of collapsing, veins bulging on your forehead. You looked at little Herta on the bed; she was only a few days away from turning eighteen…
Oh, fate, isn't she a genius?
Wasn't she supposed to become the greatest scholar in the universe?
Why has it turned out like this now? Why does misfortune always follow her?
You roared inwardly, tears in your eyes, yet you were helpless. It felt as though you could only watch your beloved sister slowly become a living corpse before your eyes…
"Calm down, sir. Please calm down…"
The doctor treating her was startled by your appearance and cautiously urged you to calm yourself.
"Can she… can she wake up again?"
You suppressed the pain in your chest and asked in a hoarse voice.
"The chances are slim. If her will to live is very strong, she might awaken before her brain is completely destroyed, but it may only be for a short time…"
"It should be enough to make final arrangements… Please accept our condolences."
Hearing this from the best doctor you had hired, you felt as if you had fallen into an ice cellar. A chill spread through your entire body…
Are you really favored by luck?
Why do you keep losing the people closest to you?
Why must we always endure the pain of losing those we love?
Even though…
In a few days she would turn eighteen, and she had promised to go with you to Rosa K. to see the sea…
You looked at the girl lying on the hospital bed, your heart aching as if it were being torn apart, wishing you could lie beside her and never wake up again.
Luck…
Did it really favor me?
No…
In your anxiety, you seemed to grasp some information.
You firmly believed the system would not deceive you, which meant your luck was genuine.
And Herta's illness, and her father's, might not have been a coincidence…
But… someone had harmed them.
It had to be so. Otherwise, you had always been extremely lucky…
Your mind raced. Even now, little Herta could still be saved. She could still be saved!
You needed to calm down and find a way to save her…
You thought rapidly…
When coincidences repeat, they are no coincidences at all. Otherwise, why would father and daughter successively suffer from such a strange illness?
Suddenly, your mind became terrifyingly clear. You quickly listed the similarities between Herta and her father: both were engaged in academic research, and both worked on the same topic…
But could a research topic be poisonous?
Topic.
Topic…
You murmured to yourself, confused. How could studying a topic lead to illness?
Memories of the past, like surveillance footage, flooded your mind frame by frame…
The father's roars in the room…
Herta's mother saying that his research would expand humanity's current understanding…
Herta's diary…
That pair of cold eyes watching her…
And what she mentioned in her diary, that similar situations had also appeared in her father's research records…
What could it be?
Those things you never imagined, yet always existed.
Those things you overlooked, thinking they were far removed from you…
What exactly was it?
You thought carefully again, reviewing past memories. Perhaps it was a sudden inspiration…
A concept emerged in your mind.
Due to an excessively fanatical belief in the moment Nous awaited, a group of people firmly guarded the limits of human cognition…
Using the special properties of quanta, they monitored human consciousness probing the boundary, eliminating those who dared to test the limits, thereby suppressing the expansion of Erudition.
The most famous among them was the killer genius who would become renowned centuries later.
That is, the Silent Lord…
Polka Kakamond…
That name which could not be thought of or spoken.
But now, those fanatical followers of Nous…
You looked at little Herta, unconscious and seemingly asleep, and the pain in your heart turned into rage…
Beyond the limit…
The moment of Nous…
A bunch of dogs and rats…
You were furious, yet at the same time you understood that to produce a genius like Polka Kakamond, these guardians of the boundary were certainly not something your "meager martial power" could deal with.
You secretly pondered what means you should use to deal with that group of people.
Aside from Luck, only Song could resonate with Harmony. And then there was your reputation across the galaxy, something those people probably did not care about at all.
You looked at the nearby instruments. The girl's brain activity was steadily decreasing. You knew that no matter what, you could not delay any longer…
With that thought, the hospital asked you to take little Herta home.
Looking at Herta, soon to be an adult, her sleeping face so beautiful, your beloved sister…
You quickly wrote a letter, placed it beside her pillow, then decisively packed your suitcase, just as you used to when you went out…
Before leaving the house, you turned back one last time, looked at the girl, and a thought arose in your mind…
You silently took out the White Star–shaped diamond ring.
You gently placed it on her left middle finger. The size was perfect.
"You will definitely wake up, Herta…"
You murmured softly, then closed the bedroom door. With the life-support system you had purchased at such a high price, it could last a very long time…
Except for that brilliant brain…