The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Rachel Evans.

Top five in the rookie hero rankings. The kind of person people whispered about with admiration—and envy. She had it all: beauty, wealth, status, and recognition.

And yet right now…

She looked flustered.

"Sorry, everyone," Rachel said with an awkward smile as she stepped into the crowded cafeteria. "Rin will be eating out with me today. We haven't seen each other in a while, and I'd like to catch up in private."

The announcement caught everyone off guard, especially me.

I blinked.

Huh? Me? Why? Please, no.

My face must've said it all because Rachel shot me a brief look—one that screamed: just go along with it—before turning back to the others.

"Ah, I see…" my roommate mumbled, clearly disappointed. The rest of the table seemed more accepting.

Still, it didn't escape Rachel's attention that everyone around me looked like they belonged in a high-end fashion magazine. Why were all of my friends so ridiculously attractive?

Her gaze briefly lingered on me.

He'd look way better if he just fixed his hair. And maybe ironed his uniform for once.

"Shall we go?" she asked lightly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I… have the right to refuse?"

Rachel gave me a sweet smile. "Do you want me to sit in on your classes again tomorrow? I am busy, but for you, I'll make time."

"…You know what? Let's go. I know a decent restaurant nearby. Not too crowded."

Yeah.

Lunch with Rachel might be awkward, but if it stopped her from hovering around my classes again, it was worth it.

Rachel blinked in surprise at my sudden change of tone, as if something clicked in her mind. A memory surfaced—clear and painful.

"Sister?" I called out when she didn't respond.

— So you're not my mom, huh? Thank goodness. And I don't exactly come off as your brother either? Ah, that explains why you've been acting that way toward me… I get it now. I really didn't know!

"Ah… yeah. Let's go."

She followed after me, her thoughts heavy.

Was this really the same brother who had once glared at her like she was a stranger and spat blood while trembling in anger?

Could we… really fix this?

It was something she'd been quietly wishing for all along.

But once we sat down at the restaurant—some cozy place tucked into a quiet street near campus—I crushed that hope with a single sentence. Visit My Virtual Library Empire (MVLEMPYR) for more.

"No."

Rachel looked up at me, startled.

"We can't just reconcile that easily."

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again.

It was like I'd punched the air out of her lungs. And yet, it had to be said.

---

Rin Evans POV.

"Have you forgiven us now?"

My sister asked the question just before the fried rice was served.

I lowered my eyes to the table.

"…No."

Honestly, I didn't even know the full story of what happened between the original Rin and his family. I wasn't part of those memories—I just inherited the fallout.

So how could I possibly respond like everything was fine?

It was the same question my father had asked me over dinner.

And my answer hadn't changed.

"We can't just patch things up that easily."

That felt like the only honest response I could give.

But then I looked up and saw her expression falter—just for a second. Her eyes dropped, her smile faded. There was a softness in her face I hadn't seen before.

A flicker of guilt. Or regret.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

"…But I'm trying."

Her eyes widened, just slightly.

"It's not that I've forgiven you," I said. "I'm just… trying to. That's the best I can do right now."

And that much was true.

Even if I couldn't fully play the part of the perfect son or devoted younger brother, I also couldn't just erase their family member like he never existed. They lost someone. And in a strange way… so did I.

The fried rice arrived then, almost like fate had mercy on the moment. I grabbed my spoon, grateful for the distraction.

Rachel, picking up on the shift, leaned in with a teasing lilt to her voice.

"Really? You're not forcing yourself to eat this morning?"

"…What?"

"Dad told me you ate meat."

Oh, right. The roast beef. Honestly, that was one of the best things I'd ever tasted. Perfectly cooked. Juicy. It was probably expensive too. I'd practically inhaled it.

"It was good," I admitted. "First time I've had beef like that."

"I was surprised. Not long ago, you could barely handle porridge. You were cranky and wouldn't touch anything."

"I guess I've recovered a bit."

Rachel studied me for a beat, her playful tone dropping slightly.

"Are you really okay though? You're not in pain anywhere? No lingering injuries?"

She tried to play it off casually, but her eyes said otherwise.

There was real concern there.

Real worry.

And for the first time since she showed up in my life… I didn't immediately want to push it away.

I paused, my spoon halfway to my mouth.

The fried rice gave off steam, fragrant and comforting. But Rachel's eyes—fixed on me, earnest and steady—made it hard to focus on food.

"…I'm not dying, if that's what you're worried about," I muttered.

She let out a small laugh, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'd still like to hear it from you. Not just the medical reports or what Dad says, but from you."

"I'm not bleeding internally. My bones healed. I can run, spar, lift things. I'm doing fine, physically," I said. "So yeah, I'm okay."

"And mentally?" she asked, voice soft.

That stopped me again.

Mentally.

What a loaded question.

What was I supposed to say to that? That sometimes I woke up not knowing who I was supposed to be? That there were days I felt like I was trespassing in someone else's life, playing a role I didn't audition for? That Rachel, my "sister," still felt like a stranger wearing a familiar face?

"…I don't know," I said, quietly. "But I'm getting by."

Rachel nodded slowly, like she understood more than she let on. Maybe she did. She'd always been perceptive, in a way that made it hard to lie to her.

"That's enough for now," she said, finally taking a bite of her rice. "But if you ever want to talk about it more… I'll listen."

"I'll consider it," I replied, stabbing a piece of egg with my spoon. "But no promises."

Rachel gave me a small smile.

It was quieter after that. Just the soft clink of silverware, the occasional sip of water. We both needed the silence to breathe.

But the peace didn't last long.

"…By the way," she said suddenly, her tone shifting again. "I'm visiting your class again tomorrow."

I almost dropped my spoon. "You what?"

She smirked. "What? I thought today was fun. You looked so composed. Like a real little honor student."

"That's blackmail."

"Mm. I prefer to call it 'sibling bonding.'"

I groaned. "You're the worst."

Rachel chuckled, resting her chin in one hand as she watched me suffer.

But her smile faded after a moment. She didn't say anything right away—just watched me, thoughtful again.

"…Even if you don't forgive me now," she said quietly, "thanks for sitting down with me today."

I glanced at her.

There it was again. That glimmer of something real under all her bravado. Maybe remorse. Maybe hope.

I didn't know.

But I nodded.

"…Sure."

Even if it didn't fix anything, even if it didn't erase the past—we shared a meal.

Sometimes, that was enough to start something new.

..