"Doctor Marcus, her pulse is dropping!" the young nurse shouted anxiously, hurriedly preparing everything needed for emergency surgery.
The white walls of the hospital and the sharp, penetrating scent of antiseptic filled the room. Right now, a young woman lay on the stretcher. Her chestnut hair was tangled and matted with blood, almost completely hiding its natural color.
She wore only tight blue jeans and a white shirt, now stained crimson from the blood that soaked it.
"Prepare the third operating room and call the anesthesiologist… And get Dr. Caleb. Tell him I need his help immediately!" ordered a man in his forties, wearing a white lab coat, firmly.
Just minutes ago, the girl had been brought to the hospital doors — she looked no older than twenty. From head to toe, she was covered in blood.
"We haven't found any external wounds that could have caused such bleeding…" reported one of the nurses who had just run in with another doctor.
"Internal bleeding is even more dangerous. We need to do an X-ray immediately!" Dr. Caleb began, appearing just a minute ago, but Marcus interrupted him.
"We don't have time for that. Her pulse is dropping too fast. Is the operating room ready?" he asked one of the nurses, without taking his eyes off the patient.
"Everything is ready for surgery, the anesthesiologist is already here," the nurse replied quickly, her voice nervous and slightly trembling.
"Excellent. Transfer her to the operating room. And inform the police!" Marcus said, carefully examining the numerous bruises on the girl's body.
***
A spacious office, its walls lined with shelves filled with folders and documents. Behind a dark desk sat an elderly man in a formal suit.
Opposite him was a man of about thirty, looking exhausted, dark circles under his eyes — it seemed he hadn't slept for several days.
"So… she was an important person? Then why was she found in that state?" the elderly man asked thoughtfully, flipping through the victim's file.
The report stated that the girl had been left right at the hospital doors. She was in critical condition, her entire body covered with signs of assault. They couldn't save her — during surgery her heart stopped.
"As the report says, she was kidnapped about three months ago, but the intelligence agencies didn't disclose this information," the thirty-year-old man said, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.
"So, she was developing weapons for the government?.. The file says she was only twenty-two…" the elderly man said slowly, leafing through the pages.
"Her parents died when she was five. She finished school at twelve, earned her doctorate at seventeen. By eighteen, she was a PhD and had been recruited by the government. It's a shame to lose such an asset…" the man said, slowly exhaling a ring of white smoke.
"If she was really kidnapped, they probably tried to extract information about the new weapon… Should we expect new attacks?" asked the elderly man, leaning an elbow on the desk. His voice sounded tired and hollow.
"Don't worry. She's not the type to spill everything, even under torture. That's why they called her 'Mockingbird,'" the man said quietly, raising the cigarette to his lips.
"'Mockingbird'? A bird that mocks everyone around?.. Ha…" the elderly man chuckled, browsing the personal life section of the victim's file.
Personal life? Surprisingly, that section contained only a few short lines.
"Oh no. She earned that nickname because she shows almost no personal emotion. She's trained not to reveal important information under any circumstances… And also because she's beautiful," the man added lightly, tapping the cigarette and flicking off the ash.
"We still can't be sure… We need to check the black markets — maybe such a weapon has already surfaced," said the elderly man, rubbing the bridge of his nose and setting the file aside.
On the first page was a photo of a young woman with chestnut hair and green eyes. Her soft facial features gave her an almost angelic appearance.
Name: Evelyn Blackmore
Age: 22
Place of Birth: London, England
***
"So they injected me with cardiac glycosides? Death by heart failure isn't the worst outcome…" Evelyn thought.
Right now, she didn't feel her body. This state was unlike paralysis or the effect of any drug — it was more like a total absence of physical existence.
"So… I'm dead?" she murmured barely audibly.
The strange thing was that she could still think and seemed to hear herself. Evelyn had never seriously considered what happens after death.
But as it turned out, death is just an endless black void and your consciousness. You're alone. Completely alone.
"You think too strangely for someone who lived such a short and rather sad life," a quiet, almost imperceptible voice said. It seemed to come from inside her own head.
"That's called telepathy. Interesting… why aren't you even surprised? You remained unshakable even when they tortured you…" the strange voice said again, now tinged with curiosity and confusion.
"I don't know how to be surprised. At least, nothing truly surprising has ever happened in my life," Evelyn replied calmly. Her voice carried no emotion at all.
"…You don't want to ask who you're talking to? You're dead, but you're still conscious and talking to me," the voice said meaningfully, nudging her toward the obvious conclusion.
"Maybe I'm just in a coma, and my brain is playing tricks on me. Or maybe I developed a psychological disorder after the trauma, and now I'm talking to myself… So who are you?" she asked dispassionately, listing rational explanations far more plausible than life after death.
"I am God. And I have come to make a deal with you," the voice now sounded clear, confident, and almost businesslike, resonating directly in her mind.
"God? I'm an atheist. It's easier to believe you're just a manifestation of my schizophrenia," Evelyn said in a tired, indifferent voice.
"You know, for saying that, I could destroy your soul," the strange voice replied with displeasure, and for a moment its tone held almost childlike offense.
"And why should I care? Whether you're my mental disorder or truly God, you understand I don't care," she answered calmly, opening her eyes.
She still didn't feel her body, but now she could make out its faint, translucent outline.
Before her stood a white being. At first glance, it was impossible to tell whether it was male or female: the figure seemed simultaneously both and neither, lacking clear boundaries.
"So you don't care about my actions…" the being paused for a moment. "Though I should ask… Are you willing to be reincarnated in another world?"
The voice spoke directly in her mind again — distinct, confident, and surprisingly calm.
"Another world? I already said I don't care," Evelyn said indifferently and unhurriedly, looking at the white figure before her.
"Then I'll ask differently… Do you have any desires? Rich, loving parents? Unlimited talent for magic?" the voice asked, tinged with impatience and slight disappointment.
"If you're really God… No, I have no desires," she answered, taking no more than a second to think.
"You're boring…! Fine, then: you'll be reincarnated in another world, one with magic. And you'll have a rich, loving family!" the strange voice said, almost coaxingly.
"Mhm… I still don't care. But what's the catch? If you're God, you don't need to do this," Evelyn said calmly, still showing no emotion.
"Of course, it's not for nothing. But your existence there alone will be enough to accomplish my task. So just live and enjoy…" the voice said irritably, raising a hand as if to snap its fingers.
"Just live… Fine. If that's all you need," Evelyn said as if it were completely ordinary.
"Finally… Do you really have no desires?" the white being asked, as if still expecting something.
"No," she answered again, rolling her eyes slightly.
"Good, then…" God was about to snap his fingers, but was interrupted.
"Sorry, I lied… I do have one desire," Evelyn said, as if recalling something. Her voice remained even and emotionless.
"Finally! And? What is it? Just tell me — I'll grant it!" the white being exclaimed eagerly.
"I want… to be more insane," Evelyn said, trying to phrase her wish as precisely as possible.
The being seemed to misunderstand her.
The white figure had no face… but Evelyn thought she saw an eye twitch nervously.
For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of a system error popping up.
"…Repeat that," the white being said nervously, hoping it had misheard.
"In my next life, I want to be more insane," Evelyn tilted her head, not seeing anything unusual in her request.
"Are you serious?" the white being shouted, trying to process what it had just heard.
"What's wrong with that? If emotions are madness, then…" Evelyn tried to explain, not entirely sure how to express it.
"Wait… I think I understand. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of emotions… Is that all?" the white being sighed in relief, snapping its fingers.
"I don't think you understand…" Evelyn hurried to clarify, but it was too late. She wanted not just "lots of emotions," but to truly feel them.
"Oh, I forgot to mention. This new magical world is an exact replica of that game… You'll see for yourself," the white being said faintly, and Evelyn barely caught the words.
"Game?.. What game? Wait… That otome RPG my junior asked me to play?.. Oh…" Evelyn didn't even have time to think before her consciousness became blurry and dark. She felt nothing.
"Enjoy your stay, Evelyn Blackmore…" the white being whispered, but she no longer heard it.