Chapter 12
“…I’ll protect Anita, so why don’t you go back? Aren’t you that arrogant bastard from before?”
It was revolting. No one cared what she wanted—they were just fighting to preserve their egos. In the end, their pride and reputations were more important than Anita herself.
“Get lost, both of you. I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”
Even though her voice sounded more like a dying patient’s than a real threat. Anita shoved the two who were facing off with her in the middle and staggered away. But she didn’t get far before collapsing to the ground.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a pure white hospital curtain and ceiling. For a moment, Anita wondered if she had died, but then a familiar face suddenly appeared in her field of vision, and she abandoned that thought.
“…Are you okay?”
She didn’t know. Was she okay?
“The doctor said it might’ve been hyperventilation. But they’ll have to check your lungs and blood to be sure. They said to ask you once you woke up.”
“It’s fine. It’s nothing serious.”
“Still…”
“I already had a physical not long ago, and I’m fine. I was just stressed today. Not because of you—because of exams.”
Anita cut off Rutger mid-sentence and continued talking.
“Exams, even though the semester just started…”
“You’re in the art department. Your schedule’s different.”
Without even properly looking at Rutger’s face, Anita sat up in bed. She ran her fingers through her messy hair to straighten it somewhat and started putting on her shoes, but Rutger stopped her.
“Can’t you just lie down a little longer? What if something happens again later?”
“I can take care of my own health. In case you didn’t realize—I’m telling you now. You’re not my dad. And you’re not my doctor either. You have no reason to be concerned about my health.”
“You don’t even like it when I worry about you?”
His brows drooped. Seeing that, Anita froze, briefly forgetting her cold tone. In the sunlight pouring through the hospital window, his eyes looked like a cool, clear teal. Light shimmered within his lashes, revealing itself boldly.
“N-not that I… Ugh. Just mind your own business.”
They say good looks are the greatest weapon—and maybe that’s true. Mesmerized by Rutger’s face, Anita had momentarily blurted something foolish and then clenched her fists.
That sly Rutger Veilan had learned far too early how to use his looks to his advantage. How many rash decisions had been made under the influence of that face?
Anita realized all over again why Rutger was so popular. He had a unique presence—something different from other famously charming guys. It wasn’t just about being handsome or kind.
“You can’t even keep your balance.”
As if she were being stubborn. Anita glared at Rutger, who had wrapped an arm around her waist like he was supporting a fragile patient, and he shrugged.
“I’m not trying to hit on you—I’m helping a patient. There’s no way I’d have any ulterior motives toward a sick person.”
“Sure you wouldn’t.”
Anita replied indifferently and pushed his arm off her waist. Meaningless contact like that no longer meant anything to her.
“Wait. I’ll walk you back to the dorm.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Remember that day? When I talked you into running away with me?”
“You mean Lilliana? You two looked great together.”
Since Rutger was trying to change the subject, Anita hit back just as smoothly. And it worked. The flippant look on Rutger’s face vanished in an instant.
“I hope this time it lasts. It’d be even better if you got married.”
“…Are you serious?”
Was it just her imagination, or did his voice sound genuinely hurt?
“I’m serious.”
Anita, who had refused to meet his gaze until now, finally looked straight into his eyes. Her obsidian-black eyes burned with firm resolve, and Rutger had no choice but to take a step back.
“So I hope you disappear from my life.”
It had been two days since Anita told Rutger not to show up in front of her anymore. She had thought things might change after saying something so decisive. But reality was unforgiving. The sun still rose, she still felt sleepy during morning lectures, and the clock hands still moved slower than a snail.
“So, ultimately, genetics is the study of heredity and genetic variation. The passing on of traits from one generation to the next is what we call heredity…”
None of what the professor was saying made it into Anita’s head. Anyone could tell she wasn’t paying attention—just flipping through her book absentmindedly. The professor, noticing her dazed look, called her name.
“Anita Rodel?”
“……”
“Anita?”
“Ah! Y-yes?”
Anita was an unfortunately conspicuous student. There were over fifty students in the lecture hall, yet among the professors, Anita was unusually well-known—not because of who she was, but because of who her mother was.
Miranda Emmerton—now Miranda Rodel—was Anita’s mother and a well-known academic. With numerous published papers and active research, most professors at Aberdeen University were at least acquainted with her.
Because of that, they paid attention to Anita. As the daughter of the famous Professor Rodel, they expected something special from her.
“What do you think gene decoding is?”
“G-gene decoding?”
Anita, clearly flustered, mumbled awkwardly. She hadn’t even properly heard the question and had just been absentmindedly flipping pages. One of the students next to her, noticing, kindly opened the book to the correct page for her.
