Love Comes After Simulation

[You realized you had reached the limit of your efforts. Your surgery was already near perfection. Standing atop the mountain built on existing medical foundations, you had reached its peak.]

[Unless the mountain of medicine grew higher, there was no way for you to get closer to the sky, closer to your wish.]

[At 53, your energy had begun to wane. A single surgery now left you exhausted, making it impossible for you to dive into foundational medical research and achieve further breakthroughs.]

[You could only hope that the feeling of having reached the peak was an illusion—that the mountain of current medical knowledge still had undiscovered summits for you to climb.]

[You searched through the archives of Chigusa University Hospital and Misaki University Hospital, examining Reina’s medical records from her lifetime and reconstructing her cardiac condition. The new surgical techniques still weren’t enough; they couldn’t ensure a safe and successful treatment for her.]

Reading the simulation text, Yuuki Minami rubbed his temples.

Had he chosen the wrong direction in this simulation? Was an even more advanced surgical procedure not enough to save Reina Nakajima? Did it require a more revolutionary medical breakthrough?

From the simulation text, it seemed the surgery wasn’t entirely hopeless—just unstable. There was still a chance of saving Reina Nakajima.

But he only had one skill extraction opportunity left. If he extracted knowledge of the new surgical procedure and found it still insufficient to save Reina Nakajima, he would have to temporarily set her aside and simulate with others to earn another skill extraction opportunity.

All he could do was hope that the simulation would make further progress.

Yuuki continued reading the simulation interface.

[After entering this bottleneck period, you slowed down and gave more opportunities to the younger members of your team.]

[Your and Reina’s adopted daughter, Mako, was now an adult—old enough to drink. You often enjoyed a few drinks with her at home. The drinks and side dishes were, of course, prepared by Mako.]

[Mako was an obedient child. When you adopted her, she was already 11 years old, with a largely formed personality. Your mother had advised you to adopt a younger child, but you were concerned that your busy surgical schedule would leave you unable to properly care for her. An 11-year-old girl could take care of herself to some extent.]

[And indeed, as you had anticipated, whenever you encountered a case similar to your wife’s, you would throw yourself into it completely, often forgetting you even had a daughter.]

[In the early days of adopting Mako, there were several times when you stayed in the hospital dormitory for one or two weeks before suddenly realizing you’d forgotten something important.]

A memory scene appears.

Though Yuuki was middle-aged, his physical health rivaled that of younger men. Mentally, however, it was hard to say whether his forgetfulness was a sign of aging or simply a result of his intense focus. On the third day after adopting Mako, he took on a critical surgery that required two weeks of preparation. During that time, he didn’t think of his daughter at all.

When the surgery was over, seeing the patient’s three daughters gathered at the bedside, Yuuki felt a pang of envy. How nice it must be to have such lovely daughters. Then it hit him—Wait, don’t I also have a daughter?

After a quick handover of responsibilities, he drove straight home.

By the time his car reached his house, the sun was setting, leaving only a faint glow on the horizon. But by the time he rummaged through his car for the house key, the sky had gone completely dark. 𝙧𝒶𐌽𝘖ᛒЁṤ

Opening the door, he felt a sense of unease, unsure of what state the house—or his daughter—would be in after his ten-day “disappearance.”

To his surprise, the house was in perfect order.

In the dining room, his daughter Mako was seated at the table, eating dinner.

It was a proper meal: grilled fish, tempura, miso soup, and salad. Everything was fresh, not store-bought or prepackaged.

When Mako saw him return, she immediately put down her chopsticks and stood up.

The girl, of medium height for her age, had a serious expression on her adorable face. Her hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, and her black sailor uniform was impeccably tidy.

“Welcome home,” she said. “Have you eaten dinner, Dad?”

“No, not yet.” Yuuki looked at the perfectly intact house and his well-kept daughter, feeling as though he were in a dream.

To forget an elementary school-aged daughter at home for half a month, only to return and find her healthy, thriving, and keeping the house spotless—how was this even normal?

“I made a little extra,” Mako said, bringing an extra serving from the kitchen. “Why don’t we eat together, Dad?”

“Why did you prepare extra?” Yuuki Minami was indeed hungry. He pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table.

“I was planning to use it for tomorrow’s lunchbox, but I can prepare that fresh in the morning,” Mako said as she served him a bowl of rice.

Her movements were natural, and her tone was calm. Slowly, the tension in Yuuki’s heart dissipated.

He sampled a bit of each dish. “The taste is pretty good.”

“I used to cook often with the aunties at the orphanage.”

The dining table grew quiet after that. They ate in silence. Yuuki finished first and sat back in his chair, observing his daughter, who still felt somewhat unfamiliar to him. Her delicate features bore a slight resemblance to Reina, which was one of the reasons Yuuki had chosen her at first glance.

He deliberately avoided the topic of his “disappearance,” but to his surprise, Mako brought it up herself.

“Did you go on a business trip, Dad? You’ve been gone for thirteen days.”

“Ah… yes.”

“Really?” Mako looked up, her small eyes carrying a maturity beyond her years.

Faced with such a gaze, Yuuki could only confess honestly, “I was so busy with work that I forgot about you.”

“Though you told me work would be very demanding, I didn’t expect it to be this demanding,” Mako said, a hint of worry flashing in her eyes. “Have you been eating properly?”

Yuuki was utterly unprepared for his daughter to be the one worrying about him.

“I’ve been eating the hospital’s set meals. They’re probably nutritionally balanced.”

“You should eat on time. I heard many doctors don’t keep regular meal schedules. Did you bring your laundry back? I can wash it for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. The hospital has washing machines, and the nurses help with that.”

“Those hospital machines are shared, aren’t they? It’s better to use the ones at home. And it’s not a good habit to trouble the nurses.”

“…I’ll bring them back next time.”

“Have you been staying in the hospital dormitory these past few days? How do they handle the bedding changes there? Are the living supplies adequate? This weekend, I can help tidy up for you.”

Her barrage of concerns left Yuuki utterly flustered. Even he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed being fussed over by an elementary schooler. Hastily, he changed the topic. “Let’s not talk about me. I’m fine. How about you, Mako? How have you been these past few days? Any difficulties?”

Mako replied, “In the morning, I take the shuttle to school. After school, I go to the supermarket next door to buy groceries and cook dinner, then clean the house. Pretty normal.”

No, no matter how you look at it, that’s anything but normal for an 11-year-old!

“No difficulties at all. Dad left plenty of money, and Aunt Airi visited me four times, bringing lots of food supplies.” Mako finished her bowl of rice, stepped into her pink slippers, and quickly ran upstairs.

A short while later, she came back down, holding a tin box. She handed it to Yuuki, who opened it to find receipts, leftover bills, and coins neatly organized inside.

The girl began reporting, “In the past two weeks, I spent a total of—”

“No need to tell me that,” Yuuki said, closing the lid and handing the box back to her. “That’s your pocket money. You can spend it however you like.”

“Spend it however I like?” For the first time, an expression of surprise appeared on Mako’s otherwise serious face.

“Yes, on snacks, toys, arcade games, trendy little gadgets—whatever you want.”

“That would be a waste of money,” Mako frowned slightly, clearly disapproving of such expenditures.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“It’s just normal entertainment,” Yuuki pointed at the dining table. “Also, cooking at home must be a hassle, right? You can just eat at the mall nearby. You can even get takeout from a restaurant or buy prepackaged meals from the supermarket.”

Mako’s frown deepened. “While restaurant food might taste a little better and save some time, I don’t think the slight difference in taste or convenience is worth spending so much money.”

Yuuki realized this newly adopted daughter of his was particularly frugal.

“Dad might have money, but that doesn’t mean we should waste it. Several of my friends at the orphanage ended up there because their parents were reckless with money, spending it all and going into debt, leaving them unable to support their children,” Mako said, turning the conversation around to lecture Yuuki.

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