System Mission: Seduce the Strongest S-Class Hunters or Die Trying!-Chapter 88: [SEEING GLASSES]

’Here we go...’

Eli’s throat was dry when he approached the nurse’s station, every step stiff with the effort of holding himself together.

His palms were clammy, leaving damp crescents on the counter as he leaned forward, his voice cracking despite his attempt at control.

"Excuse me," he managed, almost too soft. "Anna Kim. Can you... tell me what room she’s in?"

The nurse glanced up from her clipboard, her expression calm, professional—but Eli felt her eyes cut through him all the same.

Her brow lifted slightly, polite but guarded. "And you are?"

For a split second, Eli froze. His stomach lurched violently, his heart leaping straight into his throat. "Uhm."

His mind scrambled for a lie, any cover story, but his mouth betrayed him before his brain caught up.

"I’m... I’m family."

The words were raw, desperate, but true.

The nurse didn’t question it. Didn’t doubt him. She simply nodded, flipping through her chart.

The click of her pen echoed far too loud in his ears. "She’s on the third floor, Ward 3-B, Room 508. It’s a shared ward. You’ll see her name on the patient list outside."

’A... shared ward?’

The words dug under his skin. His jaw clenched. But he forced out a shaky, "Thank you," bowing slightly before pushing himself away from the counter and hurrying toward the elevators.

The ride up was torture. The fluorescent light inside the elevator hummed like a drill against his skull, the cold steel walls closing in tighter with every floor.

His reflection stared back at him in the dull metal—haunted, pale, not his real face but one that carried his real grief.

When the doors finally slid open with a mechanical chime, Eli flinched as though waking from a nightmare.

The third floor hit him with harsh, sterile brightness, the smell of disinfectant sharp in the back of his throat. Nurses’ shoes squeaked against linoleum; carts rattled.

But his eyes locked instantly on the end of the hall.

Room 508.

The list outside the door bore the names of five patients, neatly typed and stacked one under the other. And there it was.

Anna Kim.

His knees nearly gave. ’She’s here. She’s in there. Alive.’

But the word shared clung to him like a curse. His chest tightened as he stared at those five names. No private room. No quiet space.

His mother—his mom—was crammed into a ward with strangers because they couldn’t afford better.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, willing the tears not to fall, not now. He couldn’t collapse here in the hallway like a child.

His hand hovered over the door handle, trembling violently. He wanted nothing more than to burst in, to throw himself at her side, to hear her voice just once more. But—

’No. If I barge in, she’ll panic. She won’t even recognize me. She’ll just see a stranger crying at her bedside. I’ll ruin everything.’

His pulse thundered, his thoughts clawing at themselves. ’There has to be a way. I have to see her, just see her, without—’

And then it hit him.

"The system," he whispered, lips barely moving. His hand curled into a fist at his side. "Open inventory."

Ding.

The familiar panel unfolded before his vision, translucent blue against the sterile white walls.

📦 [SYSTEM INVENTORY]

— Hearing Aids

— Seeing Glasses

— Navigating Compass

— Saving Whistle

Eli’s breath hitched. His chest lurched with sudden realization. ’The glasses... the seeing glasses.’

"Seeing Glasses," he muttered quickly, his voice low but edged with frantic urgency. "I need them now... please."

For one terrible second, nothing happened. Eli’s teeth sank into his bottom lip so hard he tasted iron. ’Come on, don’t screw me over now—’

And then—

Pixels sparked in the air before him, fluttering like blue static before coalescing into shape. A sleek, modern pair of glasses hovered weightlessly for a heartbeat before sliding into place on the bridge of his nose as though they had always belonged there.

The system’s panel blinked once, then vanished.

Eli’s eyes widened. "Oh... shit."

The frames sat light against his skin, snug, almost natural. He reached up to touch them, fingers brushing the rim—and blinked.

And in that blink, the world shifted.

The wall before him dissolved into faint outlines, shadows beyond the plaster sharpening into clarity. He stumbled back with a gasp, his hand flying out to catch himself against the cold wall.

He could see through.

Through the door. Through the sterile white walls. Right into Room 508.

His heart slammed against his ribs, wild and desperate.

"Holy... holy shit."

Eli’s breath hitched as the world bent in front of his eyes. It was unreal—too real. The walls dissolved like smoke, and suddenly it was as though he stood right there in the ward, surrounded by the low hum of machines and the faint rustle of sheets.

He staggered a step back, one hand slamming against the hallway wall for balance. His voice slipped out strangled, almost a rasp. "What the—holy shit..."

The glasses hummed faintly on the bridge of his nose, weightless, like they’d fused to his skin. He blinked fast—once, twice—and the illusion cut.

The wall returned, solid, flat, ordinary.

Eli jerked, almost tearing the frames off his face. His chest rose and fell like he’d just sprinted a mile. "Wait... what?"

Another blink.

And the world melted again.

The hard plaster dissolved into outlines and clarity, shapes sharpening until the details were so precise it was like he had stepped through into the other side.

Blink. Off.Blink. On.

"...No way." His hands shook as he adjusted the frames, as if expecting the effect to vanish like a cruel trick. But the moment his eyes opened with intent, the glasses obeyed.

It wasn’t just vision. It was power. Like carrying an X-ray lodged inside his skull.

A shaky laugh spilled from his lips, disbelieving, awed. "It actually... works..."

He tilted his head, experimenting—peered upward, the ceiling’s veins of piping and wiring etched stark against the concrete; downward, at the faint shadowed skeletons of metal bedframes stacked beneath.

The clarity was staggering. Overwhelming.

But awe was fleeting. Because he remembered why he had activated them.

’No distractions. Focus. Mom. I need to see her.’

Through the wall, the ward unfolded in brutal detail. Five beds aligned, curtains half-pulled, the air saturated with quiet human intimacy. He could almost feel it—families leaning close, whispering prayers, spooning soup to frail lips, gripping hands as if holding their loved ones tethered to life.

And then his gaze caught her.

Anna Kim.

His mom.

Eli’s lungs seized. His vision blurred even though the glasses refused to falter.

She lay still beneath white sheets that swallowed her thin frame, her shoulders so narrow they barely lifted with her shallow breaths.

Tubes ran from her arms, tethering her to the quiet rhythm of machines that pulsed in soft, merciless reminder of her fragility.

Her once-bright face was pale, hollowed by time and illness. And yet—even with lips pressed tight against suffering—there was that faint, familiar curve at the corner of her mouth. That stubborn, comforting smile.

Eli slapped a fist against his mouth, muffling the raw sound clawing up his throat.

’She’s here... she’s alive... she’s breathing. But God, not like this...’

It felt like his chest might split open from the pressure. Each beat of his heart throbbed in pain, reverberating through every bone.

His gaze darted around the ward. Families clustered around other beds, soft chatter, the warmth of presence—even in sickness.

But her side... empty.

No Lucas. No Dad.

Eli’s teeth sank into his lip until copper pooled on his tongue.

’Lucas must be at school... but Dad? Where the hell is Dad? Why isn’t he here?’

His gaze returned to his mother’s fragile form, and every part of him screamed to rip the door open, to collapse at her side, to grip her hand until she opened her eyes and recognized him, not the stranger’s face he wore.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

"Mom..." The word slipped free in a whisper, breaking apart in the air, more prayer than speech.

His fingers trembled on the door handle. He wanted—no, needed—to step inside, to hold her.

But he froze. His body locked in that painful halfway point between instinct and restraint.

And then—

"Elione?"

Eli’s entire body went rigid. His head whipped around so fast the glasses nearly slid off his nose.

That voice.

He knew that voice.

His pulse roared in his ears as his gaze snapped to the source—

And his heart almost stopped.

Because through the shifting filter of the glasses, standing just down the hall, was Kairo.

Not in his usual immaculate black coat and gear. Not even clothed.

No—what Eli saw was raw, stripped bare. His vision peeled away fabric like it was nothing. His brain struggled to process it, eyes widening, mouth falling open as his breath caught in a shocked, strangled choke.

"What the fuck—"