Horse Girl, Your Friend is Fighting Her Way Out of the Horse Racing Track

The silver-gray horse ears twitched, its tail drooped lazily behind it, and the tip of the tail unconsciously brushed against the bed sheet.

"Well……"

She blinked groggily, not fully awake yet.

I trained too hard last night, and my muscles are still aching.

"A little wine..."

She called out habitually.

No one answered.

The room was quiet, with only the faint chirping of birds coming from outside the window.

Diamond Treasure turned its head and looked at the bed opposite.

The bed was empty, the blankets were neatly folded, and the pillow was placed upright at the head of the bed.

'Did you go out again...?'

As she thought this, her silver-gray horse ears drooped slightly.

'Lately, Xiao Jiu has been waking up very early...'

It seems that every time she wakes up, the bed opposite her is already empty.

She didn't know what Xiao Jiu did every day when she got up so early.

Having breakfast? Training? Or just wanting to be alone?

Without thinking much, Lingzuan Qibao threw off the covers and got out of bed.

The floor was a little cold, and her toes twitched when she stepped on it.

She shuffled into the bathroom in her slippers and washed her face in front of the mirror.

The cold water sobered her up considerably.

I looked a little sleepy in the mirror.

Her long, silver-gray hair stood up in a messy, stick-out fashion, like a fluffy cotton candy.

She spent a few minutes combing her hair and then casually tied it into a ponytail with a hair tie.

After washing her face, she passed by the desk of poetry and wine and glanced at it casually.

desk lamp.

A few pens.

A clean and tidy desktop.

It's about the same as usual.

Poetry and wine are not the kind of things people would pile up on the table.

Her desk was always empty, containing only the essentials.

Lingzuan Qibao didn't pay attention and went to the wardrobe to change her clothes.

A white T-shirt and light blue athletic shorts—simple and comfortable.

She glanced at her phone; it was already 11:40.

'It's about time to go get lunch...'

She thought about it and decided not to send a message to Poetry and Wine.

Lately, every time she sends a message, the other party is unresponsive.

Let's wait until she gets back before we talk about it.

'Having dinner together tonight...that should be okay, right?'

Thinking this, Lingzuan Qibao pushed open the door and went out.

Several female horse riders were chatting in the corridor. When they saw her come out, they nodded and greeted her.

Lingzuan Qibao smiled and responded, then walked towards the stairs.

The silver-gray horse ears swayed gently, and the horse seemed to be in a better mood than a few days ago.

Although Xiao Jiu has been avoiding her lately and has been very cold towards her.

But today is the weekend.

There were no classes or mandatory training sessions.

Maybe we can find an opportunity to have a good talk.

Ask her what's wrong.

Is there something I did wrong?

If so, she can change it.

She didn't want to lose this friend so inexplicably.

Thinking this, Lingzuan Qibao walked briskly towards the cafeteria.

The sun is shining brightly, the sky is blue, it's perfect weather for going out.

She had no idea that behind the closed door behind her, the room was missing a person.

Miura Dormitory, Room 203.

Poetry and wine are asleep.

Her breathing was shallow, and her brows were slightly furrowed, as if she were having a bad dream.

Then--

A familiar feeling washed over me again.

……

pain.

This was the first feeling I had after regaining consciousness from poetry and wine.

My whole body aches, as if countless tiny knives are cutting under my skin, and something is drilling into the gaps in my bones.

The blue and white figure they were pursuing was named Miracle: Chapter 98 Wow, it's insurance.

Poetry and wine suddenly opened their eyes.

What comes into view is a white ceiling, white walls, and the smell of disinfectant permeating the air.

hospital.

She's back.

Poetry and Wine lay on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling for several seconds, their minds blank.

Poetry and wine: Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

A dull pain shot through my chest, and each breath felt like it was tearing at some wound.

'here we go again.'

She thought to herself.

'It's going to be like this again.'

The door to the ward was pushed open.

A nurse came in, saw that she was awake, and her face lit up with surprise.

"You're awake? How are you feeling? I'll go get the doctor—"

"Wait a moment."

The sounds of poetry and wine were hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed together.

"Where's my...bill?"

The nurse was taken aback.

"bill?"

"Medical expenses."

Poetry and Wine propped herself up to sit up, but the movement aggravated her wounds, causing her to wince in pain.

"I want to see the bill."

"This one……"

The nurse looked somewhat embarrassed.

"Your expenses have already been paid by someone else."

The actions of poetry and wine came to a halt.

"Who?"

“A lady named Kashimoto. She also prepaid for the follow-up rehabilitation treatment. She happened to come over just as you were falling asleep yesterday.”

As the nurse spoke, she picked up a folder from the bedside table.

"Here's the receipt, you can take a look."

Poetry and Wine took the folder, opened it, and glanced at it.

Hospitalization fees, emergency room fees, medication fees, and examination fees.

and also--

"Subsequent rehabilitation treatment costs (already prepaid)".

That number is very long.

It grew so long that it made her heart sink.

I'm not going to die, why spend all this money to save me?!

That damn Riko Kashimoto.

It's her again.

She paid for the original owner's medical expenses for poetry and wine.

She paid for the medical expenses this time as well.

She even paid in advance for the rehabilitation treatment that hadn't even started yet.

Poetry and Wine stared at the receipt, remaining silent for a long time.

The nurse thought she was touched and said with a smile:

"You have a very good friend. It's so nice to have someone care about you like this—"

"I see."

Poetry and Wine impatiently interrupted her.

"You can go out."

The nurse's smile froze for a moment, but she still nodded, turned and left.

The ward fell silent.

Poetry and Wine angrily clutched the receipt, their knuckles turning white.

'It's not just the favors owed by the original owner.'

The resentment towards poetry and wine deepened once again.

Now I'm in debt myself.

Hospitalization costs and subsequent treatment costs.

One by one, more and more.

She is not the kind of person who likes to owe favors, nor is she the kind of person who can accept help from others with a clear conscience.