Chapter 193 When Will I Become Someone That Close to You?
“Tilda, just do your best. I’ll send today’s data over to you,” Rick said.
“Thank you, Dr. Day,” Tilda replied before ending the call.
She opened the files Rick had sent – Dane’s medical results. Her eyes darkened.
Every single reading was perfectly normal. Too normal. Could it really be that this genetic issue was impossible to fix?
No. That could not be. Dane had spoken as a child. Now, he only managed to speak in front of their master. There had to be some kind of trigger, something that could bring his voice back.
But what?
Tilda racked her brain, trying to recall every little detail from her time with Dane, every word she had asked him.
The effort left her head pounding.
She pressed her temples, frustrated. No matter how hard she thought, she could not find that “trigger.”
Breathe. Calm down. She could not rush this.
Her master and Dane had been searching for years and still had not found a solution. Hitting a dead end was normal.
If it were easy, their master would not have been so worried.
Taking a deep breath, Tilda forced herself to relax.
Maybe if she kept going, things would change.
Finding the answer would take time.
Then, an idea struck her.
She messaged Andy, briefly explaining Dane’s condition.
“Andy, can you help me look into this? See if there are any leads at all.”
If there was anyone she could trust completely, it was Andy.
“What a strange illness. Sure, I’ll ask around quietly, but don’t get your hopes up,” Andy replied, offering her a little reassurance.
“I got it. Thank you, Andy,” Tilda wrote back.
She understood his meaning. The government had already tried everything to cure someone like Dane, a rare talent.
Yet they found nothing.
Andy might not find anything either.
Still, having one more path was better than none.
After that, Tilda opened her messages with Jude.
She bit her lip, hesitating.
For Dane’s sake, she finally typed everything out and told him about the situation.
“I’ll help. Wait for my update,” Jude replied almost instantly.
Just like that, her heart felt a little lighter.
These past few days, Jude had been messaging her often, just some funny little stories and pictures of scenery.
Normally, the old Tilda would have found that boring and ignored him.
But now…
It did not feel so bad. In fact, she kind of liked it.
Maybe because it was Jude.
She could not deny it anymore—her feelings for him were starting to change.
“Thank you, Jude. When are you coming back?” she asked.
“Soon,” he replied.
Then added, “What, missing me already?”
Tilda rolled her eyes and typed back, “I just remembered I still owe you that meal. I hate owing favors. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
Jude smirked when he saw that.
If paying him back meant she would stop thinking about him, maybe he should let her owe him a little longer.
Of course, he could not admit that out loud.
If anyone else knew what was going through his head, they would never believe it—the cold, untouchable head of DY Group acting like a lovesick guy, overthinking every word.
“About Dane,” Jude messaged again, “as far as I know, Cetherland already tried countless methods. None of them worked.”
“I know,” Tilda replied. “I talked to Captain about it at the base. I don’t expect miracles. But he’s my senior and my closest family member in this world. Even if there’s only one tiny chance, I’ll do everything I can.”
“Then I’ll give it everything too,” Jude answered without hesitation.
Right after sending that, Jude picked up his landline and called Vassal.
He handed the matter over completely, giving him full access to his intelligence network.
Not even the smallest lead could be ignored.
Vassal did not understand why this was so important, but as Jude’s servant, he knew better than to ask questions.
Orders were orders.
After Vassal left, Jude pondered.
“My closest family member, huh?”
A flicker of jealousy rippled in his usually calm, dark eyes.
Tilda, when will I become someone that close to you?
The next day, Tilda arrived right on time for the final round of the National College Art Competition in Cetherland.
She stepped out of a Porsche Cayenne, wearing sunglasses, loose black striped track pants, short black boots, and a windbreaker. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall, and her lips curved in a subtle smile.