novelnext Chapter 335 : Talia (5)
Chapter 335 : Talia (5)
Her plea was undeniably heartfelt, enough to move anyone’s emotions, but sincerity alone can’t decide a matter of life and death.
Whether to grant Talia’s request or not…
This wasn’t a choice that could be made lightly.
So, I decided to share the situation with everyone.
“Talia is serious. If she’s refused, she’s even considering legal emancipation.”
The moment I heard that, I stepped outside the hospital room and explained everything to David, Jesse, Rachel, and Talia’s mother.
The word emancipation hit them like a shockwave.
None reacted as intensely as Talia’s mother.
Her face drained of color.
“Legal emancipation? What are you—?!”
She burst into the hospital room immediately.
Talia snapped sharply the moment she entered.
“…Sean— you told her right away?? What is this? I trusted you!”
“You didn’t ask me to keep it a secret.”
“Even so! I didn’t think you’d run straight to her like that!”
I shrugged.
“This isn’t something you handle behind closed doors. If it goes to court, it comes out anyway. And if you try to push it forward without even attempting prior discussion, the judge is more likely to dismiss it.”
Any legal process should begin with conversation where possible.
And realistically, if Talia’s mother could understand her choice, that would be the best outcome for everyone.
But—
“Do we really need to take this as far as a courtroom? She’s this determined already.”
“You want me to just let her decide something that could kill her by tomorrow?!”
As expected, her mother erupted in furious opposition.
And then began the explosive clash between mother and daughter.
“It’s my life! Why do you get to decide for me?!”
“Because you’re not mature enough to make that decision! That’s why parents have the authority to decide in situations like this!”
“That logic is ridiculous! Legally, I’ll be an adult in two months! Do you think I magically become smarter by then? Joan of Arc was younger than me!”
“You’re just daydreaming! Just like how you believed you’d make it as a model! The survival odds are almost none, but you’re convinced you’ll be the exception! Look at reality— do you really think it’ll be that easy?”
Her mother turned, searching for support.
Her eyes moved from David, to Jesse, to Rachel.
But David and Jesse didn’t take sides.
They wanted mediation, not war.
They spoke, visibly uncomfortable.
“Maybe instead of going to such extremes… you two could try talking this through, reach some kind of—”
Then, unexpectedly, Rachel did choose a side.
Talia’s.
“Being young doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand death. She has thought this through carefully.”
Rachel, who had spent countless hours counseling Talia, was certain this wasn’t impulsive.
“No matter how much she’s thought about it, she’s still a child. There are things she can’t see yet. Three years from now, five years from now— would she still make the same choice when she’s older?”
“You’re basing this on a flawed premise. She doesn’t have three years. So is it really wisest to assume she can make better decisions later?”
Rachel responded with an analogy.
“A full grown tree stores water during rain to prepare for drought. That’s wisdom. But if a seedling tries the same thing? It’ll die. Because it fails to absorb the water it needs right now.”
She paused, then continued.
“The tree survives because it has deep roots, a thick trunk, storage cells built over years. A seedling doesn’t. I think there are decisions appropriate to each stage of life.”
It was a thoughtful analogy.
But…
Not one that would soften a mother’s heart.
“Humans aren’t plants. I… I can’t agree to this. Never.”
And just like that, negotiations collapsed.
Which left only one option.
“Then the only path left is legal resolution.”
A lawsuit.
I could retain attorneys and push the case forward even without her mother’s consent.
In that sense, the final decision had always been mine.
I hesitated at first, but after hearing everything…
“I’ll support Talia.”
“That’s reckless and irresponsible—!”
“If you want to change my mind, provide real reasoning. Not just ‘she’s foolish’ or ‘I said no’ wrapped in authority.”
“She will regret this!”
Maybe.
But…
“She’ll regret it even if she doesn’t choose it. So ‘regret’ isn’t an argument.”
That was when Talia’s mother finally stopped holding back.
“I can’t agree… I can’t… the time we have left is disappearing… I already lost my husband… she’s all I have left…”
She looked at her daughter like she was slipping away already.
Her desperation was real.
Natural even, maybe.
But I couldn’t entirely understand it.
I never had a family beside me at the end.
I was there for my father’s final moments, yes, but…
'That was different.'
That was accepting an inevitable goodbye—not choosing one.
It wasn’t something I could use as a frame of reference.
Talia, however, did understand.
Tears rolled down her face.
But her voice did not shake.
“Mom, I’m going to die either way. So at the very least… let me choose how. Even for you… this is the one thing I can’t give up.”
#
Of course, her mother didn’t give up easily.
She hired her own attorney to block the emancipation.
But—
'She never stood a chance.'
Court battles aren’t won by conviction.
They’re won by funding, documents, expert testimony, and preparation.
This isn’t debate club. It’s paperwork warfare.
Her mother could only afford a neighborhood lawyer, scraping together savings.
I retained one of the top partners at a major law firm.
Their capacity for evidence gathering, expert affidavits, legal precedent research— it wasn’t even a contest.
And time moved fast.
Minor emancipation cases can take months, even a year.
But Talia’s case was categorized under immediate emergency medical decision-making directly tied to survival.
So instead of full emancipation proceedings, the court expedited a limited urgent hearing focusing solely on medical autonomy.
Three days for document submission.
Four days until final judgment.
A process that would normally take months ended in one week.
“So… I’m an adult now? At least legally?”
Talia won.
It was always going to end that way.
Now she could attempt epigenetic treatment whenever she wanted, according to her own will.
But she didn’t rush into it.
Naturally.
There was no reason to hurry into a treatment that could kill her as a side effect.
“How much time do we have?”
Talia asked how long until the next seizure.
“Hard to predict exactly, but… we should have some time for now.”
There was another legacy Milo had left behind.
Researchers had identified biochemical signs that appear when the Castleman-type cytokine storm is imminent.
Just before an episode, IL-6, TNF-α, IFN-γ, and CRP levels rise in a specific pattern, and immunoglobulin concentrations fluctuate irregularly.
These changes form a sort of biochemical fingerprint that acts like barometric pressure before a typhoon, signaling an approaching storm.
Thanks to that, the previously unpredictable Castleman episodes could now be detected to some extent.
Fortunately, Talia’s current levels were within a stable range.
Clouds were gathering beyond the horizon, but the storm hadn’t made landfall yet.
“You’ll see sharp changes about a day or two before.”
“So the treatment is given at that point, right? Until then I can live as I please.”
Talia had no intention of spending her remaining time helplessly in the hospital.
She seemed to have a plan.
“Can I make an account?”
“An account?”
“A social media account.”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you’ll be in it too, Sean.”
“Me?”
To be honest, it wasn’t an appealing idea.
The internet is a lawless zoo of every kind of person.
Statistically, one or two out of a hundred are people who’ve fallen off the rails.
The problem is that if my name appears, tens of thousands — even hundreds of thousands — would swarm in.
Where a few deranged people might show up normally, there would be hundreds or thousands now.
In that sense, exposing a minor like Talia to that whirlwind was… excessively irresponsible.
But my objections carried no weight.
“I’m prepared for that.”
“…Is such preparation really necessary?”
“If you want followers, that’s what it takes! Most people take months to reach a thousand followers! You can’t get that for free! There’s always a cost!”
“......”
“This is my last wish and you still won’t grant it?”
At first I’d thought she was an innocent child, but that was a complete misjudgment.
Talia was surprisingly shrewd.
She had no qualms about weaponizing her terminal condition.
In the end, she created the account.
She posted that she had volunteered for experimental treatment for rare-disease research, and she revealed a bucket list she wanted to complete before she died.
She called it, “The Bucket List Sean Fulfills!”
She showed no hesitation in using my name.
Because my name was front and center, her followers jumped to a hundred thousand in just a few hours.
“First on the list: Imitate Pretty Woman!”
“Pretty Woman?”
“You know that scene where she raids the Rodeo Drive boutiques! I always wanted to do that if a wealthy benefactor appeared, and now I finally have the chance!”
A wealthy benefactor… was that really a charitable impulse?
Given the movie’s context it felt a bit off, but Talia didn’t care.
“This is my last wish and you still won’t let me have it?”
Well, it wasn’t that hard, so I agreed.
Talia wanted to stroll down the shopping street in person, but she was bedridden.
So we brought the luxury brands to her room.
A spectacle unfolded as Chanel, Gucci, and Prada staff wheeled trunks into the ward.
“This one, this one, and that one too!”
Talia pointed at items without glancing at price tags.
For the record, it wasn’t a mock display — she actually bought them.
When her mother realized that, she freaked out, but Talia tried to reassure her.
“Mom, it’s fine. Do you know how much Sean’s assets are? This is less than the price of lunch.”
“Are kids nowadays all like this?”
She was astonishingly confident.
No complaints from me.
Given the value of the data she would provide, it was a ridiculously cheap deal.
“Next on the bucket list: a fashion photoshoot! I’ll be a Dolce & Gabbana muse. If they don’t cast me, we’ll just pay!”
We actually hired a well-known fashion photographer and set up a makeshift studio in the hospital room.
We brought in lights, backdrops, makeup artists, and stylists for a full shoot.
She angled to hide swelling, used lighting to sculpt her features, and struck poses like a pro model.
She live-streamed the whole thing on social media.
The response exploded.
My involvement certainly helped, but Talia’s unabashed flexing and candid attitude drew huge engagement.
Generally, people were taken with the image of a girl who stood tall even before death, though criticism poured in as well.
“Sick of attention seekers.”
“Using illness for clout? Gross.”
“Flexing with other people’s money—no shame.”
Talia faced each comment head-on.
“Yep, I’m seeking attention. I want to collect all the attention I can before I die.”
“Who said good deeds must be quiet? Since when?”
“I won’t disappear silently. I’ll tell the whole world and take everything I deserve!”
The hateful comments didn’t hurt her at all.
If anything, she seemed to revel in them.
“See! Every time I get trash talk, I gain a thousand followers! That’s noise marketing!”
The bucket list continued.
She commissioned a rapper to make a diss track for her haters, she put her face on Times Square billboards, and more.
Each fulfilled wish sent her follower count skyrocketing.
But—
“TNF-α trends are worrying. Especially IFN-γ spiked twofold within 24 hours and then dropped immediately…”
The clouds were drawing nearer.
And finally—
“Based on current values… there’s a high chance of a seizure within roughly 48 hours, at least according to Milo’s data.”
The wind began to pick up and the barometric pressure was dropping sharply.
Yet Talia remained calm.
“So it’s really time.”
She stared into space for a moment, then spoke with sudden resolve.
“Okay, let’s do just two more wishes before we get started.”