Starting With SSS-rank: I Get A New Skill Every Livestream-Chapter 10: Father

Kyle couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his mother cry.

And the moment she mentioned the word hospital hospital, it confirmed that something serious had already happened.

He ran as fast as he could toward the train station. Thankfully, the railway system operated overnight, meaning he could reach the central city, Fortis, within an hour.

Swiping his card across the scanner, he entered the underground station and glanced to his left.

There was no sign of the train yet.

He checked the large clock hanging from one of the pillars. There were still ten minutes left.

Tapping his foot against the pavement, he waited, his impatience growing with each passing second.

He kept glancing at his phone, half-expecting another call from someone in his family.

For a brief moment, he considered calling his father, but dismissed the thought. He was probably far too worried to talk right now.

In the end, Kyle slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued waiting.

His brother was a businessman and a consultant, a highly influential figure in Fortis.

The only explanation Kyle could come up with for the situation was an accident.

Surely, he was popular—but not to the extent of being targeted by the underworld.

Or was Kyle simply unaware?

Several possibilities raced through his mind as he waited for the train, his impatience growing.

When it finally arrived, he rushed inside.

Not long after, the train began to move, and the scenery outside blurred as it sped past.

He took a seat and tried to steady his nerves.

There weren’t many people in the coach, and none of them showed even the slightest interest in the anxious young man among them. Kyle couldn’t have been more grateful. The last thing he wanted was someone asking if everything was alright.

As the minutes ticked by, his phone suddenly vibrated.

He nearly dropped it in his haste to pull it out, certain it was one of his parents calling.

But the moment his eyes fell on the caller ID, his mood soured.

Amanda.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he disconnected the call.

Bzzz...

She was calling again.

Clicking his tongue, Kyle rejected it once more and blocked her immediately.

He didn’t want his phone tied up for any reason right now.

The rest of the journey felt painfully long before the train finally came to a stop.

Kyle rushed out and took the stairs leading up to the station.

Once outside, he didn’t bother booking a cab. The hospital was only about five hundred meters away.

After spending more than ten years in this city, he knew exactly which shortcuts would get him there the fastest.

Running through a dim alley and narrowly avoiding a dump cart, Kyle finally caught sight of the towering building he had been rushing toward.

The moment he stepped inside, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit him, mixed with the distant cries of a woman echoing down the corridors. White lights stretched endlessly across the ceiling, reflecting off polished floors where nurses moved briskly between rooms. Monitors beeped somewhere deeper inside, their steady rhythm only making his chest feel tighter.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Kyle hurried to the reception desk and said, slightly out of breath,

"Astortia Blake."

The nurse looked up at him, her expression professional but cautious.

"And you are?"

Kyle frowned. Why does that matter?

Still, he answered after a brief pause, "I’m his brother. Kyle."

The nurse nodded, then picked up the landline phone and dialed a number.

Kyle stood there, staring at the sterile walls, disbelief settling in. They were running a security check now. Just how important had his brother become over the past few years?

The nurse spoke in a low voice, barely audible over the background noise of the hospital. After a moment, she placed the receiver back down and looked at him.

"Third floor."

"Room number?" Kyle asked hurriedly.

The nurse replied, "Just go there. You’ll know."

Kyle clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. Was she really a nurse, or a runaway patient?

Regardless, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

Ding.

As the bell chimed and the metal doors slid open, Kyle took a hurried step forward—only to be stopped by a lean, middle-aged man.

"Wait. Let me see your ID first."

Kyle snapped before he could stop himself.

"Am I going to meet the president or something? Why are you getting in my wa—"

"Kyle."

A familiar voice reached him from the left.

Turning, Kyle saw an older man walking toward him.

Unlike his usual composed self, the man looked visibly aged. His greying hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept.

The head of House Astortia—Mathew.

As he approached, he said to the man blocking the elevator,

"He’s with me."

The middle-aged man stepped aside at once, allowing Kyle to finally exit the elevator, which had been chiming impatiently due to the blocked doors.

They walked a few steps away from the guard. Kyle didn’t waste time.

"How is he?"

Mathew clasped his hands behind his back and answered calmly as they moved down the corridor,

"Not doing well."

After a brief pause, he continued, "Several fractured ribs, a broken knee, multiple mangled fingers, internal bleeding, and a severe head injury."

Kyle’s chest tightened. Anxiety surged—but the shock was far worse.

"How did this happen? I checked the news. There’s nothing about a major accident anywhere."

Mathew stopped and looked him straight in the eyes.

Kyle caught a flicker of hesitation before the man shook his head.

"Go and see him. He’s conscious, but he can’t talk."

Kyle frowned.

Why? Why couldn’t he tell him something this serious? Did he think Kyle wasn’t responsible enough to know why his brother was practically on the brink of death?

Suppressing the bitterness rising in his chest, Kyle walked toward the room at the end of the corridor.

Two guards stood on either side of the door, but thankfully, they didn’t stop him.

Taking a deep breath, Kyle pushed the door open.

°°°°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading. Drop a comment.