Simulated time always passed exceptionally fast, and before you realized it, you were already thirteen.
As time went on, you discovered that a poor student would still be a poor student even after transmigrating…
The courses grew increasingly difficult, and sometimes you would scratch your head in frustration over your homework…
"Stupid! You can't even do something this simple? I really don't know how you study."
"Forget it, forget it. I'll teach you. Honestly, that teacher doesn't explain things very well…"
The girl's increasingly melodious voice always appeared at just the right moment, explaining to you again and again, while your gaze was slightly dazed, knowledge that was nothing more than a toy to her…
She always seemed endlessly patient with you.
Herta, at thirteen or fourteen, already displayed an unusually striking charm, and at school she had countless admirers of all kinds.
Love letters, flowers, all sorts of small gifts meant to win her favor…
But she always returned them intact.
What puzzled you somewhat was that among her admirers were even some girls her age.
One could only sigh silently. Truly charismatic people can attract both men and women.
Among the admirers were also some persistent and clingy ones, like dog leeches.
At times like that, you would always step in at the right moment and solve the problem with a bit of force.
After that, the girl seemed to grow even more attached to you…
You remembered it carefully. After school, that seemed to be the happiest time you had had in recent years.
On the way home from school, she would hop and skip about, sometimes playing a prank by disappearing and then suddenly reappearing, holding a newly bought candy in her hand and winking at you proudly.
Then she would laugh uncontrollably when she saw the relief on your face…
When she grew tired of playing, Herta would act spoiled and cling to your back like a kitten.
"Stupid, I want to hear you sing…"
The girl on your back gently rubbed her cheek against you, speaking indistinctly.
Blessed by favorable conditions, at thirteen or fourteen you were physically strong, and even with her on your back, you could still sing beautifully.
Until she fell into a deep sleep on your back…
After arriving home, you would always carefully place the girl onto her bed and tuck her in.
From time to time, you could even hear her murmuring softly in her sleep.
"Stupid…"
You smiled softly, then gently stroked her forehead before quietly leaving the room.
School days passed like this, warm and happy. Looking back on that time, you had only one regret. It was far too short.
In the blink of an eye, another winter arrived…
Winters on Zhanlan Star always had snow, but the snow of your fifteenth year left a particularly deep impression on you.
Because that year, your father fell ill.
"Autoimmune encephalitis."
You heard the doctor's words, half understanding, half confused, with no real grasp of the term.
You only looked at your father lying in bed, eyes closed and unconscious, and at Herta's mother and little Herta standing by his side with grave expressions, and your heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
"It's a very rare illness, with an extremely low incidence, but the prognosis is good, so there's no need to worry."
The doctor's words made you breathe a sigh of relief. You thought perhaps it was because he had overworked himself these past few years, and after some rest, he should be fine.
Things developed as expected. After a few days in bed, your father's condition improved.
He could already speak and eat normally, even chat with you, though he was still a bit listless.
"You should rest. Don't always lock yourself in the lab. You have no idea how worried we've been about you."
While feeding him, Herta's mother softly scolded her husband, her eyes full of tenderness for her beloved.
Your father weakly tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes filled with guilt toward his partner, then nodded.
His condition gradually improved. You watched the snow outside stop falling and saw that the next spring was about to arrive.
The stone in your heart finally fell.
But events are always unpredictable. One snowless night, your father's condition suddenly worsened, just like before, without cause, without warning.
He began to rave and lose awareness, babbling incoherently, accompanied by a high, persistent fever.
The attending physician was somewhat bewildered, staring at the various alarming instruments as his pupils trembled uncontrollably.
"This isn't right… the inflammation had clearly improved…"
The experienced doctor's voice was filled with disbelief, already a bit nervous. Finally, after multiple examinations, the hospital announced that your father's encephalitis had relapsed with unprecedented severity.
"The probability of this happening is less than one in a billion… I'm sorry. We did what we could…"
With no other options, the hospital had no choice but to discharge your father, who had once again fallen into a deep coma, to seek other methods.
In the bedroom at home, Herta's mother watched her husband lying in bed. Though her face was haggard, she had not given up on finding a cure.
At one point, every available method was exhausted, including several renowned doctors and folk remedies.
However, the situation did not improve at all. In a deep coma, according to the hospital's latest assessment, your father might already be brain-dead.
His brain had suffered nearly irreversible damage…
He could only rely on a respirator and several life-support devices to maintain his vital signs.
Little Herta also did not give up. In just a few days, she searched through numerous medical texts, trying to find a precedent for this illness.
Finally, at the end of that winter, little Herta found a method.
"There is a way to cure Dad's illness…"
"What? Really?"
Herta's mother quickly grabbed little Herta, a spark of hope rekindled in her eyes.
"There is a possibility of a cure, but the cost is exorbitant."
"Where? No matter the cost, I'll find a way."
Herta's mother tightly embraced little Herta, afraid that letting go would shatter that hard-won glimmer of hope.
"The Interastral Peace Corporation has a precedent for curing patients with brain death, but the cost…"
"An astronomical figure."
Little Herta gently opened the material in her hand and looked at the long string of zeros, an immense fortune never before seen on Zhanlan Star.
Herta's mother felt dizzy for a moment and crouched down, trembling.
You had never seen your mother cry so sorrowfully…
Little Herta looked at her emotionally shattered mother, tears also streaming down, her knuckles slightly pale as she clenched the fabric tightly.
Five hundred billion credit points…
Converted to the common currency of Zhanlan Star, two more zeros would be added. It truly was an astronomical number.
Even in your previous life, you could only achieve something like that with a blue-green modifier…
Seeing the person closest to you in this world in such a state.
In that instant, your heart ached, and you bit your lip hard.
After thinking it through, you clenched your fist and looked at your mother and your sister.
"I'll earn this money."