Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 82: Gnawing questions

"You need any help?" I turn to the guy tending to Nathan's wound, his hands stained red as he works.

"Yeah," he mutters, focused. "I need you to press down on the wound the moment I pull the knife out. Tight. If we don't, he'll lose too much blood."

Lightning strikes through me, sending chills down my spine. My hands tremble as I hesitate.

"I... I don't know how to do this. What if I press too hard? It might hurt him," I stammer, my voice barely steady.

"Pain doesn't matter," the guy snaps. "Keeping him alive does. Press the wound as tightly as you can to stop the bleeding!"

I swallow hard and glance at Nathan. He's still staring at me—silent, unflinching, like he's testing me.

Taking a deep breath, I press down.

The guy yanks the knife out in one swift motion. Blood gushes out instantly, hot and endless, covering my hands. It's everywhere—too much. My fingers disappear into the mess of it. The sight makes my stomach twist.

"Damn it! It won't stop! Do something!" I yell, panic rising in my chest.

"Someone get me a tablecloth!" the guy shouts.

A cloth is thrown his way, and he wraps it tightly around Nathan's torso, making a firm knot to slow the bleeding. Through it all, Nathan barely makes a sound. His jaw clenches, his body tenses, but not a single groan escapes him. He just grips the sheets beneath him, knuckles white.

After applying first aid, we carry him to the resting room and lay him down.

"Someone needs to stay with him until he stabilizes," the guy says, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"I'll stay. It's not an issue," I say without thinking.

"Fine, we can switch every hour," he says, rubbing his temples.

"Cool! But how do you know first aid?" I ask, curiosity tugging at me.

"My dad was a renowned doctor at Magemenos. He taught me everything," he replies casually.

"Wow, that's amazing! You did a great job today," I assure him.

"You just came from a game—you must be exhausted. Go rest, but don't ditch your friend here," he warns with a smirk.

"Yes, thank you! I'll be back soon," I say before heading to the washroom.

The moment I step inside, I glance at my hands—completely drenched in dried blood, like I had dipped them in red paint. I scrub furiously, watching the water swirl down the drain, the crimson fading into nothing.

But as I clean myself up, something unsettling grips me.

All my wounds are gone. The loop ended, and just like always, my body reset. No scratches, no bruises.

Then why... why are Nathan's wounds still there?

I grip the sink, my reflection staring back at me, the question gnawing at my mind.

It doesn't make sense. His injuries should have disappeared too.

Something is wrong.

I need answers.

And the only person who can give them to me is Nathan.

I just have to wait for him to wake up.

"He stabbed himself! I saw it with my own eyes!" someone in the group exclaimed, their voice still shaken.

Another voice cut in, low and urgent. "He lost control when he tried to kill Hailey. Instead of going through with it, he pulled out a knife and drove it into his own gut—right next to the exit. And he didn't stop. He kept stabbing himself until the curse wore off. By the time I reached him, he was barely conscious. I had to drag him out and use my infinity badge before placing his... or he wouldn't have made it."

I wasn't supposed to be listening. But how could I not? Every word sent a chill down my spine.

"Maybe..." one of the guys muttered, "maybe it's because she's his girlfriend? He didn't want to hurt her?"

Silence.

Then, every girl in the group snapped their heads toward him, their eyes like daggers, their expressions pure murder.

I swear, if looks could kill, he'd be the next body on the floor.

As I step into the resting room, my thoughts are still tangled in the insanity of what I just heard. Nathan stabbed himself—over and over—to save someone else. Was that courage or sheer recklessness? I don't know. But if the world had more reckless idiots like him, maybe it wouldn't be such a cruel place.

Shaking my head, I approach the medical guy who just finished treating him.

"The next game... isn't it starting soon?" I ask, my voice quiet but firm.

He exhales sharply, crossing his arms. "It's the last level—Level 9. It'll start when everyone finishes Level 8, so it might take some time. Let's just hope he holds up until then."

I nod, my eyes flicking back to Nathan. His face is pale, his body eerily still, but his chest rises and falls—proof he's still here. I pull up a chair and sit beside him.

This guy. This quiet, cold, unreadable guy who barely speaks and pretends not to care... just threw himself into death's hands to save someone else. And I'm the one sitting next to him now, the one waiting for him to open his eyes.

I lean back, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out a breath.

"Damn," I whisper, shaking my head, "my respect for this guy just shot through the roof. I could never do what he did."