Miss Witch, even if we're poor, we can't sell ourselves!

When Mi Ye woke up, her brain felt like it had been put into a washing machine and spun around a hundred times.

Light seeped in through the gaps in her eyelashes, a stark white.

"woke up?"

She turned her eyes and looked in the direction of the sound.

Flores sat on the bedside chair, wearing a dark gray knitted cardigan and black wide-leg pants. Her large hoop earrings were gone, and only a thin silver bracelet remained on her wrist.

This was also the first time Miya had seen Flores without makeup.

Her lips still had a faint rosy hue, but the fine lines around her eyes were more pronounced than usual, as if she hadn't slept well for several days.

"...Manager?"

Miya's voice was squeezed out of her throat.

Flores closed the old book she was halfway through, without saying a word immediately.

She leaned forward slightly and gently pressed the tip of her index finger against Mi Ye's forehead. She paused for a moment, as if sensing something, then withdrew her hand, picked up the cup from the bedside table, and handed it to her. The straw was already inserted.

"The water temperature is just right, drink it first, you've been asleep for almost three days."

Miya opened her mouth and put the straw in her mouth. When the first sip of water slid down her throat, she realized how thirsty she was. She couldn't help but take two big gulps, and then choked and coughed several times.

Flores moved the cup away and waited for her cough to subside before returning it.

"Slow down."

Miya obediently sipped the water slowly this time, only letting go when the glass was empty.

The warm water spread through her empty stomach, but a stronger feeling of nausea surged up, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

Feeling nauseous?

Flores placed her hand firmly on Miya's shoulder, and with her other hand, she took out a small basin prepared under the bed.

"Put it here, don't hold it in."

Miya closed her mouth tightly and took several deep breaths, finally managing to suppress the surging emotions.

She sank deeper into the pillow as if she were exhausted, only to find that the pillow had been adjusted to be slightly higher, making it easier for her to lie half-reclined without feeling too uncomfortable.

"Manager...where am I?"

"At the Central General Hospital, your vital signs were very unstable when you were brought here, and your magic circuits were almost completely shut down. The doctors initially diagnosed it as severe magic overdraft, which is what you magic students often call 'running out of mana,' but later they found that was not the case."

Flores toyed with the cup in her hand, her lowered eyelids concealing the thoughtful look in her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with your magic circuits; the problem lies elsewhere."

Miya's mind was still a bit foggy, but she could hear the unspoken worry in Flores's tone.

"Miss Lu brought you here."

Upon hearing the name, Miya instinctively tried to sit up, her body reacting faster than her brain. As soon as she raised her head, her vision went black, and Flores pressed her back onto the pillow with one hand.

"Where was she before—"

"They went back to the company. They're busy with family matters, and besides, you've been unconscious for three days."

Flores released her grip.

"He looked quite disheveled when he left. His sleeves were covered in dust, and his hair was a mess. He was still looking back at the ward door as his two mothers dragged him away."

"She also asked me to tell you that you don't need to pay the medical bills."

The ward was quiet for a moment. Pigeons fluttered past the window, their white feathers tumbling in the afternoon sunlight before settling down.

Miya buried her face in the pillow, not wanting Flores to see her expression.

"I want to eat something, I'm so hungry."

She said sullenly.

Flores chuckled softly and took a double-layered lunchbox out of the insulated bag.

The first layer is white porridge, cooked until the rice grains are almost dissolved. The second layer contains a salted egg and a small handful of shredded, unidentified melon.

"You haven't eaten for three days, so you can't eat anything too greasy right away. Have something light first, and I'll bring you a chocolate cake tomorrow."

Miya reached out to take the lunchbox, her fingers trembling so much she could barely hold the spoon, almost spilling the porridge onto the blanket.

Flores silently took the spoon, scooped up half a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and brought it to her lips.

"Open your mouth, ah—"

Miya paused for a moment, then obediently opened her mouth.

Plain congee has no taste. The warm rice soup, along with the soft, mushy rice grains, slides into my stomach, finally relieving the agonizing hunger pangs a little, before they return with even greater force.

She opened her mouth again, and Flores handed her her the second spoonful.

The only sounds in the ward were the wind rustling through the leaves outside the window and the occasional soft sound of a spoon hitting the edge of a lunchbox.

Flores fed her quietly, scooping up just the right amount each time.

When Miya was halfway through her meal, she suddenly remembered some fragmented memories, as if someone had stuffed these images into her mind while she was asleep, vague and indistinct.

It sounds like someone is singing?

She remembered the voice, like the wind at the end of spring sneaking in through the gaps in the gauze window, the last word of each lyric spoken very softly, as if afraid of disturbing the dew on the petals.

Mi Ye swallowed the porridge in her mouth and her gaze fell on another chair beside the hospital bed.

A light pink blanket was draped over the back of the chair, neatly folded, unlike the style found in hospitals.

Flores followed her gaze and spoke before she could ask.

"That was left by another young patient. She heard that there was a little witch lying unconscious in the intensive care unit, so she came over to sing for several days in a row."

Mi Ye's spoon hovered in mid-air.

"Sing?"

"Yeah, the nurses can't get rid of her. If they try to get rid of her, she'll hug the door frame and say she'll sing one more song before she leaves. Then she'll beg the nurses in that pitiful tone, saying that she just learned this song yesterday and that she only wants one song. The nurses on duty can't stand her nagging anymore. Every time they say, 'Okay, just one song,' she'll sing one song after another, and it can drag on for more than an hour."

Flores picked up the last piece of meat and placed it on top of the porridge.

"Later, the doctor found that your vital signs were significantly more stable when she was singing, so they made an exception and allowed her to come and stay with you every day. She was taken back to her own ward by the doctor this morning. You can't get out of bed yet. It's not too late to go see her when you feel better."

Miya lowered her head and finished the last mouthful of porridge in her bowl.

A girl I didn't know would go to a stranger's bedside and sing for several days in a row. She wouldn't leave even when the nurse chased her away, and would cling to the door frame, begging the nurse to let her sing one more song.

It was a little strange, but more than that, Miya thought she was very cute.

She didn't know why the girl did that. Maybe she had just heard that there was a little witch the same age as her in the intensive care unit, or maybe she just thought that people in a coma would be afraid and silent.

Perhaps this is just the kind of person she is, used to sharing what she has with those who need it, and all she has is her singing voice.