Chapter 1 – Dreams and Reality

“Alex… my Alex. Thank you for finding me.”
Her soft voice echoed like a distant song as her fingers traced from his forehead to his cheek—then she kissed him with boundless tenderness.

Alex woke with tears on his cheeks. But this time, they felt different.
A quiet joy settled in his chest, something deeper than comfort, something unfamiliar… a warmth he had never known before.
He lay still for a moment, trying to hold on to the fading dream.

It was the same dream—one he’d been having since childhood. But today, it felt real. Clearer. Closer.
What did it mean?
But there was no time to dwell on it.
He wiped his face, stood, and got ready for work.

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Alex O’Neill was well known in Saint Clarion as a gifted physician-scientist—brilliant, reclusive, and notoriously impossible to impress.

That morning, he attended the final day of Saint Clarion’s intern workshop—a long-standing tradition that welcomed new interns.

After two weeks of team-based research, each group now presented their findings before senior doctors and staff.

One by one, the teams gave their presentations. As expected, most were dull and repetitive, sticking to identical formats and arriving at predictable conclusions.

Then the final team took the stage: two women and two men. Their names appeared on the screen, and murmurs spread through the room. One of the names was clearly Asian, but none of the team members appeared to be.
The presentation began anyway.

Unlike the others, this group had taken a different approach. They had followed the same experiment as everyone else—administering two types of medication to sick lab mice—but added a variable no one else had considered: the quality of care.

They divided the mice not just by medication, but by how they were treated.
One group received standard care: food, water, medication—and nothing else.
The other group received warmth—they were spoken to, named, given soft bedding, organic food, gentle massages, even music.

The results were striking.
The medications showed minimal differences—but the neglected mice declined rapidly. Some died. Meanwhile, the well-cared-for mice showed significant recovery, regardless of which drug they received.

The presentation ended with a simple but powerful message:

“We hope to become doctors who treat not only disease, but the person—
with compassion, with presence, with care.”

For a moment, the room was silent.
Then the applause erupted.

Even Alex, still groggy from the night before, found himself leaning forward, fully engaged.

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On stage, they looked proud. They clapped for each other as Zoe, the team leader, turned to the young woman beside her.

“Thank you, Nao. We pulled off something great—I was lucky to have you.”
Naosa—everyone called her Nao—smiled, her face warm and calm. “Thank you for leading us. You were amazing.”

Zoe laughed awkwardly. “I’ve never led anyone before. I thought my hands would never stop shaking.”
Naosa gently took her hands. “I knew you could do it. See? You did great.”
“We did,” Zoe said with a grin. Both laughed, relief washing over them.

The nearby teams applauded with genuine warmth—though not everyone was pleased.

One team sat stiffly, their expressions cold.

Kevin, a shy, slightly round man with an earnest smile, had been part of the standout team. He’d graduated from a prestigious med school, but more importantly—he and Naosa had become fast friends during the workshop. They called each other “buddy.”

Several of Kevin’s med school classmates sat nearby, whispering.

As Kevin walked off the stage, one of them—Owen—stuck out his foot.
Kevin tripped, falling hard.
The room fell silent.

“Hey, hey. Watch it,” Owen muttered lazily.
Kevin scrambled to his feet, flustered. “S-sorry…”

But before he could say more, Naosa stepped in.

“You tripped him on purpose,” she said softly. “So why should Kevin be the one apologizing?”

Her voice wasn’t sharp—just clear. Calm.
“It takes courage to say sorry. A lot of adults forget how.” She smiled and gently reached out, taking Owen’s hand. “But it’s okay. If it’s hard, we can say it together.”

Owen blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected warmth. He glanced into her deep hazel-blue eyes and, for a moment, forgot how to speak.
“…Sorry,” he muttered.
Kevin, still startled, gave a sheepish grin. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good for you,” Naosa said to Kevin as they walked away.
“I’m loyal to you forever,” Kevin whispered jokingly.
“Then you’re my people,” she replied. “And I have to protect you.”
She gave him a radiant smile.

Owen stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened.

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The event was winding down.
From his seat in the back, Alex let out a quiet laugh.
“She was brutally sweet,” he said to the man beside him.

Miguel—stylish, composed, and unbothered—smiled.
“Maybe not brutal. Maybe just honest. I think she’s naturally like that. Either way… she’s funny.”

Miguel had been Alex’s friend since med school—once a roommate, always a confidant. Openly gay, impeccably dressed, and sharp with words—they had known each other for years.

“This year’s event was something else,” Miguel said lightly.
Alex nodded slowly, his thoughts lingering on the woman with the gentle voice and fire in her eyes.

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