Dr. Pomua was doing something on Chan’s other side, something that made his arm tingle and his chest warm. A nurse rushed in. Injae stared at him, motherly concern radiating from her. 

A police officer said, “We are in the middle of an interrogatio–” and Injae speared them with an icy gaze over Chan’s head.

 "I told you I would accompany you to question my very injured employee." Her voice was exactly like a frozen lake: level, hard, and freezing. "How dare you ambush him like this."

It was a madhouse in this room, but Chan barely registered any of it.

Mihn hasn’t come back. 

Hot claws raked across Chan’s heart, and adrenaline seeped out of them. Mihn was still out there, basically a missing person by this point. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel his pains, and was overtaken with the overwhelming urge to move. 

He flung his blankets off, knocking over his bowl of soup, and started to kick his feet free. His thigh was already healed, for the most part. He could definitely walk. Could definitely search for Mihn.

“Woah, woah!” exclaimed Injae, leaving off staring down the police officer and lurching forward to putting two strong hands on Chan’s flailing ankles. “What are you doing?” 

“Restrain him,” said Dr. Pomua, and suddenly a selkie nurse’s hands were pressing into his shoulders.

Chan snarled. “Get off!” He kicked, and shoved at Injae and the nurse with his good arm, but they didn’t budge. 

Dr. Pomua pointed a straight finger at the police officers. “I told you two to leave. If you want to question my patient, bring the proper documentation.”

Chan didn’t care about the officers. He didn’t care what they were trying to do. Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision, and Injae took up the entirety of it. Angry, helpless tears pricked at Chan’s eyes. “We need to find Mihn, boss!”

That got the officers’ attention. Mbarra and Johnson scooted closer to the weakly thrashing, sobbing Chan.

Dr. Pomua was having none of it. “I said OUT!” She plunged a hand into the pocket of her lab coat and brought out a blue velvet pouch. The officers tensed, and the nurse sighed, taking one hand off Chan to fish around in her own scrubs’ pocket.

As Dr. Pomua flung a pinch of blue powder that expanded into clouds at Mbarra and Johnson, the nurse uncapped a lip-balm-esque cylinder and dabbed it on Chan’s forehead, Injae’s hand, her own cheek, and Dr. Pomua’s jaw. The protection came just as Chan’s nose started to itch from the blue clouds rapidly filling the room.

The officers coughed and staggered back out of the blue clouds. Johnson couldn’t help but throw one last vile comment at them as he hung in the doorway. “He’s a liar anyway! Says he doesn’t know who saved him. That he can’t remember.”

Dr. Pomua was not amused. She matched Johnson’s condescending tone. “Actually, it is very likely that Mr. Kurozi cannot remember what happened to him that night. Trauma has a way of scrambling the mind, officers.”

And then they were gone and the air was blue and Chan still needed to get out of here to find Mihn. He lurched against the arms holding him down, casting wide, teary eyes at Injae. Why was she still stopping him? How could she care so much for Chan and so little for Mihn? How could she save him from poachers, save him from the police, and yet not see that Mihn needed help, too? 

“Channie. You need to calm down. You’re hurting yourself.”

His head and heart were a mess. He wanted to be a good person, to give Injae all the thanks and loyalty she deserved. 

But Mihn needed him more. 

“I’m sorry!” he hiccuped, still batting uselessly against the Injae’s implacable arms as Dr. Pomua and the selkie nurse scurried around him. How was such a tiny (old) woman so strong? “You saved me and I’m thankful, but Mihn–Mihn– Let me go to her!” 

Chan’s face was wet with tears, and fatigue was pulling at his limbs. His energy from the adrenaline burst was waning, and Injae was making him waste it by fighting her. Resentment curled in Chan’s gut.

“Chan, I think–”

“How could you leave her?” Chan wailed, lying limply in bed. He couldn’t fight any more, exhausted. His head was swimming, but the black was receding from his vision. It didn’t help him see more, though, because endless tears welled in his eyes. 

“How could you save me, but just leave her out in Anjeon by herself? She could be hurt, and we wouldn’t know until it was too late!”

Dr. Pomua appeared at the foot of his bed. “Mr. Kurozi, if you don’t calm down, we will have to sedate you.”

Chan closed his eyes. Why did none of them realize there was a bigger problem out there? Why was he the only one taking Mihn’s safety seriously?

 Cool palms cupped Chan’s sticky cheeks. “Chan, I think you’re confused. Mihn is not out in Anjeon. She’s at her apartment.”

He cracked his eyes open. Injae’s sincere face was inches from his own. It was a very convincing performance, but he’d expect her to have gotten good at lying over the centuries.

He'd never pegged his boss as cruel, but lying about this was the cruelest thing she could do.

He couldn’t afford to be sedated, so Chan tried his best to calm his shuddering lungs and said, “You just said she didn’t come back.”

Injae’s pink lips parted, and Chan stared at them like they held the secrets of the universe. “Yes. After she got you here, she went to his apartment and hasn't left it. She hasn’t come back to the Reserve’s Headquarters.”

Trapped between her capable hands, Chan could only shake his head minutely as confusion made him sick. “No. You brought me here. Not Mihn. Mihn was never with me after our fight.”

Injae’s foxy eyes widened. “Chan, I didn’t save you. It was Mihn.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Chan whispered. There was enough space in his chest for breath, now, and the black had finally left his vision. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to shout at his savior, even if she was lying to him so he would stay in the hospital and get better. 

It made sense. It was the type of thing Injae would do. It’s what she had done just a few days ago on that section of trampled savannah.

It still meant Mihn was who-knows-where in who-knows-what condition. And Chan couldn’t stand it.

Injae’s expression turned beseeching. “I’m not! Listen–”

Chan flung out a trembling finger, pointing it straight at Dr. Pomua. “She said you and Briggs carried me through the portal and into the emergency room. Not Mihn.” His lip wobbled.

Dr. Pomua stopped her squinting at a monitor by Chan’s bedside to look at him in surprise. Her gaze bounced between him and Injae, eyebrows high. “That was Kija who said that, actually,” she said cooly. “In any case, your vitals are back to normal levels, Mr. Kurozi. We’ll take our leave.” She nodded to the nurse, who escaped through the quickly-thinning powder blue clouds with an expression of unmistakable relief.

“No more distress for you today,” said Dr. Pomua on her way out the door. She looked at Injae seriously. “If your conversation is going to upset him, do it later. He needs rest.” 

When Injae nodded, Dr. Pomua moved to close the door, only to frown at something in the hallway. “What are you doing, lurking here?”

A nervous chuckle floated towards Chan’s ears. “Ah, sorry. I was waiting for the commotion to die down, is all.”

Chan frowned. That sounded like Hanji. What was the witch doing here?

Dr. Pomua shook her head, hand making the door drift shut. “Well this patient isn’t fit for visitors right now. You’ll have to leave.”

Hanji sounded as forlorn as a sweet child denied chocolate as he said, “But I have my visitor’s pass. It’s got my name on it and everything.”

“Doctor,” Injae called. She didn’t leave Chan’s bedside, though her hands had slipped from his cheeks to her own lap as he’d stopped struggling. “I need him here for this conversation.”

Dr. Pomua squinted unhappily at Injae, who hurried to add, “He won’t upset Chan.”

Chan met Dr. Pomua’s suspicious gaze. “Mr. Kurozi, would you like Mr. Nah to visit you right now?”

Chan sighed. He wanted to go to Minh. He wanted to know what was real. He wanted to be able to trust Injae.

“Sure,” he said.

Hanji entered the room and Dr. Pomua shut the door behind him. He grabbed the other visitor’s chair closer to Chan’s bed and plopped down in it, knees turning inwards. His fuzzy blue sweater swamped him, and his cheeks were just as round as Chan remembered. 

Chan was too tired to feel any peace, seeing those two empty chairs finally filled with familiar faces.

“Hey, Chan,” said Hanji with wide, innocent eyes. 

Chan wasn’t going to be fooled. He crossed his good arm over his chest and glared at the two. “I’m ready to hear your lies.”