Seven Sins System Chapter 680. Sorry

Seven Sins System Chapter 680. Sorry

Julia always had this way of making the chaos quiet for a moment. Like putting your hand in cold water after a burn. It didn’t fix the damage—but damn, it made you forget the sting.

I smiled.

Yeah. I felt grateful I had her.

Even if I joked to myself—maybe I should’ve used the chance to ask for sex.

Just a little tease.

A bit of comfort play.

But nah.

I shook the thought off and rolled my shoulders. My body ached in that low, simmering way. The kind of fatigue that wrapped itself around your bones after days of prep, stress, and tight-lipped discipline. My back popped as I stood.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Back to work.”

I walked over to the cabinet, grabbed the ledger, and started writing down what Julia had taken. A few spare mana packs. Two minor healing potions. Emergency gauze. Standard stuff for a cautious combatant watching someone else's back.

Fiona, huh?

Poor girl. She meant well, but she cracked like porcelain under pressure. At least Julia still believed in her.

As I was signing off the bottom of the report with a lazy flourish, I felt it.

A flicker.

Soft.

Radiant.

Angelic.

I froze.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

That presence.

I knew that signature.

It had shimmered just behind the curtain near bed number 3—only for a second.

A heartbeat of grace.

And then—gone.

“…Puriel,” I whispered.

I turned slowly. Quiet steps.

Like spooking a wounded animal.

Part of me hoped I was wrong. That maybe it was just a leftover enchantment.

But no.

There it was.

A chilled box of tomato juice sitting neatly on the bed’s tray.

And next to it—a small note.

Folded clean, edges crisp.

No seal.

No feather.

No golden writing.

Just ink.

Human.

Personal.

Mortal.

I finished scrawling the last stroke of Julia’s report, then let the pen fall to the desk with a soft clack. With a flash of light, I blinked to the side of the bed.

The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and rain. Her scent.

Subtle.

Gone too fast.

I picked up the juice first. Still cold. I stared at it for a second—then unfolded the note.

"Thank you. And… Sorry for lying to you."

I scoffed.

But the smile tugged at my lips anyway.

I walked toward the window, juice in one hand, note in the other.

And there—

Just for a second—

I caught a glimpse of her.

Standing on the rooftop.

She saw me.

I lifted the note slightly. Not accusing. Not forgiving. Just… acknowledging.

And then she vanished.

A ripple of holy light.

Gone before the wind had time to question her presence.

“…Idiot,” I muttered.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Just tired.

Just… human.

I set the note down gently on my desk.

Then pierced the straw into the juice box and took a long sip.

It was sweet.

Tangy.

Cold.

Bracing.

Exactly how she liked it.

I chuckled to myself.

“I guess… me and her really do look like a mortal couple,” I murmured. “More than two immortals pretending.”

The thought hit a little deeper than expected.

All those dumb stories from the boys came back.

Darren going on about his girlfriend and her mood swings every time he didn’t text back for three days.

Barry's endless rants about how his ex would dump him every full moon, then show up crying the next week like nothing happened.

Ion—well, Ion never shut up about his girlfriend’s mood.

They complained.

But every time they talked about them?

There was a warmth in their voices.

Like they missed the fights just as much as the kisses.

Me?

I was starting to get it.

I took another sip.

Somehow… I felt lighter.

Time passed.

The clock on the infirmary wall moved a notch.

Almost lunch.

A knock at the door broke my thoughts.

Soft, short.

Not urgent.

Familiar rhythm.

“Yo,” came a voice from the hallway. “Your replacement’s here. Time to suit up, Doc.”

“Coming,” I called out.

I tucked the note in my coat pocket, and smoothed out my uniform. A quick flash to the locker room, and I changed into the academy battle suit—black underlayer, reinforced runes on the arms and chest, with the squad insignia stitched over the heart.

Functional.

Not flashy.

And yeah, it felt good.

By the time I returned to the central courtyard, the rest of the mentors were already gathering. The sky above was overcast, a lazy gray blanket that didn’t quite threaten rain but looked smug about it anyway. The air buzzed with mana as portal sigils pulsed faintly on the stone paths.

I nodded at a few familiar faces. Instructors from other departments, guest strategists, and healing unit captains. One waved me over with her usual “you’re late but I won’t lecture you” expression.

I walked up to her and raised a brow. “Another briefing?”

She nodded. “Final prep before dispatch. They’re assigning backup roles. You’ve been added to the combat-med support tier.”

“Seriously?” I sighed. “I thought I was just the emergency option.”

“You are,” she said. “But this is more like… you’re the fire extinguisher they expect to actually walk around and punch things.”

“Lovely.” I exhaled. “Fine. I can handle it.”

She looked at me sideways. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Just a long morning. But I’m good.”

She didn’t press. She knew better.

The captain cleared his throat at the front. Everyone went quiet.

“Before deployment,” he said, his voice clipped like a drill sergeant who moonlighted as a librarian, “just a few final notes. Mission zones are live. Monster behavior’s been erratic in the north sector. Do not underestimate aggression levels. Medical response is limited to onsite protocols unless you flag red. And don’t forget—students are priority. You bleed, you patch it. They bleed, you stop it.”

He swept the crowd with his eyes. I could feel the edge behind his words. Like he knew something was off. Like he didn’t trust this mission to stay ‘basic’ for long.

“Dismissed.”

We scattered. Just like that.

I went to the parking lot to the armored transport. It was parked near the eastern gate, reinforced enough to punch through an avalanche.