Chapter 342: Elena Ward Set Down Her Medical Chart and Strode

"Dr. Miller, you wanted to see me?"

Elena Ward set down her medical chart and strode into the dean's office. June sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled patterns across her white coat.

Dean Miller sat behind his desk, fingers drumming restlessly on the surface. When Elena entered, he jerked to his feet before sinking back into his chair.

"Have a seat." His voice was strained.

Elena's sharp eyes noted how the dean avoided meeting her gaze. His empty teacup kept lifting and settling without purpose.

"What's wrong?" She cut to the chase.

The dean drew a deep breath and pulled a document from his drawer. The paper trembled slightly in his hand.

"Dr. Ward... I'm so sorry."

As Elena took the file, a chill crawled up her spine the moment her fingers touched the paper. Two bold characters glared back at her: Transfer Orders.

"Border medical team?" She read the contents softly.

Dean Miller surged to his feet, pacing like a caged animal. "This is absurd! An acupuncturist with zero battlefield trauma training being sent to—"

"When do I leave?" Elena's voice remained calm.

"Next week." He halted, throat working. "Elena, you can appeal this. With your qualifications—"

"No need." She folded the document neatly and returned it to the desk. "I'll comply."

An ambulance siren wailed outside, sharp and jarring. The dean slammed his fist on the desk, sending the teacup rattling.

"Do you know how many medics died there last year? Nineteen! You're only nineteen yourself!"

Elena stood, the hem of her coat swaying gently. Sunlight traced the delicate curve of her profile.

"Dean, my father was nineteen when he died."

Silence swallowed the office. The dean's mouth opened, then closed as he collapsed into his chair.

"It's Sylvia Stone, isn't it?" he whispered.

Elena offered no reply. Adjusting her collar, she turned toward the door. Her hand paused on the knob.

"Thank you for everything these past two years."

The quiet click of the closing door struck the dean like a hammer blow. He grabbed the phone, then let it drop. The transfer orders glared under the sunlight, the crimson official seal burning bright in the bottom corner.