After leaving the operating room, Elion, somewhat recovered, ran into House, who was deliberately waiting for him in the hallway.
House gestured to Elion, indicating that he had something to tell him in his office.
Elion nodded and followed House in silence, wondering if something had happened. Maybe he had been discovered—who knew.
After closing the door, House asked Elion, "You're sweating. It's not hot. You're not running. You're not Foreman on a double shift or performing surgery on a child. So tell me, are you dying, or are you just being dramatic?"
"Is that your way of giving a compliment?" Elion asked with a slight smile, calm because he had been expecting this scene.
House seemed to think for a moment and replied, "No. My way of 'complimenting' you is ignoring you. This is my way of saying 'something's wrong.' Headache, chills… and that 'if I blink, something breaks' face. What do you have?"
"Nothing that a quick and arrogant diagnosis can't fix."
"It's always something when a smart person says 'nothing.'" House, knowing there was more to it, asked, "Tumor? Rare infection? Or are you pregnant and don't want to tell me?"
"Just… fatigue," Elion replied, surprised. It seemed he had underestimated House.
"Fatigue doesn't cause cold sweats. It causes mistakes." House stared at him and said, "And let me remind you of something—when have you ever made a mistake?"
"That doesn't mean I don't have any." Elion walked toward the nearby table to pour himself a glass of water.
"It means you hide them better," House said, watching Elion's every move.
When Elion returned, he said, "When I was a child, I was hospitalized for six months. Not for anything elegant or interesting. A rare infection. Long, painful, and without glamour."
House raised an eyebrow, without interrupting, and asked, "And?"
"There was a boy worse than me in the room next door. He didn't talk much. Oncologists, surgeons, residents who didn't sleep saved him… Doctors who were wrong a thousand times before getting one right."
After saying that, Elion, recalling his past, continued, "That boy survived not because the doctors were perfect, but because they didn't give up."
House, who didn't care about any of this, said sarcastically, "Touching story. Needs a violin."
"I wanted to be like them," Elion said, ignoring House. Then he shook his head and pointed out, "Not the best. Not the brightest. Just someone who, even by making mistakes, manages to keep someone else from dying."
House, confused, asked, "And that explains your symptoms… how?"
"Because every time I treat a patient who's in danger of dying, I feel that if I make a single mistake, I'll be failing that child. Because I know mistakes don't save anyone. And sometimes… that weighs more than any illness."
House remained silent—a long silence—and then said, "Guilt doesn't cause chills. But it does make people convincing."
Elion smiled and said, "Then believe me."
House made a rare expression and said, "I will. But when you collapse in the middle of the hallway, I promise to say 'I told you so' before helping you up."
"That would be very human of you," Elion said, wondering if that would ever happen.
House, without looking at him, said, "Don't get used to it. Now get out of my office."
"Yes, thank you."
…
When Elion left the office, he changed into casual clothes and walked toward the hospital exit.
He looked around, then stopped a yellow taxi and told the driver to take him to the Continental Hotel.
The driver looked at Elion's attire and a smile appeared on his lips. As a taxi driver, he had an extremely keen eye.
That was why he thought he had other skills—he believed he was good at reading people.
The Continental Hotel in New York is known for only receiving a certain type of person, not only because of its high costs, but also because of its influence—something a poor man like him could never afford.
He thought that maybe Elion was probably going there for a job.
After all, the place is frequented by powerful and wealthy people.
However, the driver would never say those things. To avoid getting involved in trouble, everyone was smart enough not to pry into what didn't concern them.
See and not see, see and not ask, see and not speak. Those were the rules if you didn't want to get into trouble.
That was why, as long as they could pay the taxi fare, he didn't care what they did.
Not only would he not interfere, but he would even drive this kind of person along a longer, more winding route, so that making more money would be the right path.
As he had just taken advantage of the traffic jam ahead to cautiously take the wrong road, the man in the back seat said nothing to stop him.
So, regardless of whether this man was in a hurry or not, he had already become a target in the driver's eyes for squeezing out a little more money.
It didn't matter if he couldn't pay when the time came—after all, even someone ordinary like him had many connections. If he couldn't pay, that meant Elion wasn't as important as he appeared, and that would give the taxi driver a signal to act.
With this in mind, the driver, in a good mood, turned up the volume of the electronic music playing on the radio and began to sway to the rhythm in his seat.
Elion, sitting in the back seat, had no idea that the experienced driver already saw him as a bag of blood to suck dry until reaching the destination.
Bored, he took out the only two gold coins he had from the Continental Hotel and played with them between his fingers to the rhythm of the music on the radio.
When the driver saw this scene in the rearview mirror, his thoughts cooled, and a chill ran through his body.
He jolted when he clearly saw the gold coins moving back and forth between the fingers of Elion's right hand.
In a city, taxi drivers are undoubtedly the most informed. Therefore, certain secret information had long been circulating in his line of work.
For example, some people in this world use special gold coins as hard currency.
According to rumors, these gold coins are hard currency issued by an assassin organization for internal transactions.
He had also heard that there were twelve different relief designs imprinted on the gold coins, and that these designs were related to a mysterious organization and the twelve seats at the main table.
Whoever assigned the task would have the emblem of their faction displayed on the reward coins they received.
This was the original origin of the gold coins, which was related to certain factions within this world.
The two gold coins Elion currently possessed included one with a relief of a lion and a shield, which spoke of the origin of those coins.
The other featured a relief of a fierce hand, which was one of the most common designs that could be found.
Holding this kind of coin, could any ordinary person imagine that the owner possessed great influence by working for these organizations?
Thinking this, the driver unconsciously accelerated. After all, the rumors said that these kinds of people could kill for anything!
He didn't want to be murdered for delaying his passenger's destination now that he knew his identity.
Although there was no sharp object in his car that could be used, what prevented him from thinking that Elion might be armed?
The driver abandoned his initial contempt and no longer dared to treat Elion as a customer to squeeze money from.
"Is something wrong?" Elion noticed the driver's strange behavior.
"No, nothing."
Elion thought that maybe something might happen, so he stopped asking. At that moment, they arrived at the hotel, and the driver said, "We're here."
"How much do I owe you?"
"Just what the meter says."
Elion nodded, paid, and got out without saying another word.